Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
DON’T FLATTER YOURSELF, COWBOY. I WAS LOOKIN’ AT YOUR HORSE
Shelby
“I heard it, of course, but I didn’t believe it!” Skye looks about as shocked as a pig watching a farmer eat a BLT. “Our Dallas? The hound-dog-who’s-sniffed-every-female-flower-garden-in-the-county Dallas? Engaged?”
We’re sitting at a high-top just off the dance floor at Knockin’ Boots, where the house band is warming up. It’s already busy, and it’s barely six o’clock.
A single glance across the table reveals an identical expression on our friend Josie Mae. Clearly, I’m not the only one thrown for a loop by this plot twist. “How many times have I heard you say Dallas is the last man on earth you’d date? When did you change your mind? How did I miss this?”
“I knew it!” Frankie crows from beside Josie Mae for some reason, and we all turn to frown at her. Her grin is beyond smug. The girl is delusional.
“Calm your tits, Frankie.” I plonk my beer bottle on the table and shake my head at her before leaning in for privacy. “It’s not real. Your brother is just incapable of restraining himself from acting on his every ridiculous impulse.”
“What a shock,” Skye drawls, flipping her long, dark-blonde hair over her shoulder and bringing her cocktail straw to her lips. Since Dallas is her little brother, she’s practiced at insulting him.
“What do you mean? Please make this make sense,” Jo begs. She and I have been close friends since high school, probably because she dated Dallas’s twin brother, Houston, so we spent a lot of time together. The three of them were my first real friends as the new girl in town at fifteen.
We all lean in, and I give my friends the short version while the band starts playing in earnest and people trickle onto the dance floor. I include Dallas’s plan for getting out of this mess in the end but leave out the napkin for reasons I’m not sure of.
“Damn.” Skye is the first to speak. “I didn’t realize Shane was that big of an asshole. I’m actually kind of proud of my little bro for coming through like that. I can always help too you know.” Which is true. The woman breaks horses for god’s sake, she could absolutely take on Shane.
“Sloppy as it may be,” Jo sighs.
Frankie tilts her head and considers me. “I don’t know. I think there’s still something more to this. I mean, going from punching a guy to declaring an engagement seems a little extreme, even for Dallas.”
I inhale through my nose, the scent of fried bar food making my stomach grumble.
“I promise you, there’s not. Your brother is about as attracted to me as he is to Meemaw’s Silkie chickens.
Besides, you know I hate Texas. I could never marry a guy named Dallas.
” I wink at her, making everyone laugh. I take a sip of my beer before continuing, “Obviously, this has to be our secret, so mum’s the word, ladies.
You know how people in town love a good scandal. ”
Skye mimics zipping her lips just as Norinne approaches our table, purple hair secured in a band and giant hoop earrings dangling low.
“You girls ready for another round?” She turns to me.
“I figured you’d be out celebrating with Dallas, Shelby.
Congrats, by the way.” In contrast to a lot of people around town, she appears genuinely pleased about the news.
Norinne is a fun-loving mother-hen type who changes her hair color once a month and never forgets to ask after your kin.
She and her husband, Tank, have been running Knockin’ Boots since her daddy retired a dozen years back.
And by retired, I mean he now spends his afternoons selling homemade moonshine out of the trunk of his Chevy and flirting with the old ladies outside the Baptist church. Pappy is living his best life.
Hoping my discomfort isn’t palpable, I respond with a smile. “Thanks, Norinne. He has Ryder tonight.”
“Well, lemme see the ring, girl!” she insists, leaning forward to get a peek at my hand. Well, crap.
Frankie, bless her soul, comes to my rescue. “The ring was shit, so Skye and I told him to take it back, but he just couldn’t wait to pop the question.”
Skye’s smile is painful at best. “Yeah. He’s never bought jewelry before, so he was flying blind.”
“I can’t believe y’all knew he was proposing and didn’t tell me!” Norinne buys it, hook, line, and sinker.
Skye repeats her lip-lock gesture, and I force a smile at Norinne, to which she flutters her eyelashes and says, “Damn, do I love a good happy ending.” Everyone mutters lukewarm sounds of agreement. Then we order another round and wait for Norinne to leave before we all lean in again.
Frankie harrumphs, her jet-black hair falling forward as she drops her chin. “This sucks. I was looking forward to having you as a sister-in-law, Shelbs.”
I grin at her because who wouldn’t get the warm fuzzies from a comment like that, but Skye is the one to respond. “Our brother doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body, Frankie. His idea of wooing a woman is springing for a Hershey bar with his box of condoms at the drugstore checkout.”
“Good lord, Skye.” Josie Mae snort-laughs. But I notice nobody tries to correct Skye.
“Speaking of condom-buying hound dogs…” Frankie trails off, and we all turn to where she’s looking.
Sure enough, Dallas stands across the way, leaning against the bar like it was constructed solely for the very purpose of supporting his fine self.
He’s wearing a western snap-up shirt and the same jeans as earlier, his feet covered by his favorite scuffed boots.
His eyes are glued on me like cat hair to a black dress.
Shit. Why did my heart just jump? I can’t even begin to count the number of times he and I have met up at this exact bar. His lips curve in a knowing smile like he just read my damn mind, and the man proceeds to raise his beer bottle in a pseudo toast to me.
“Daaaaamn. Somebody is not messing around,” Jo drawls.
I turn my back to Dallas to face my friends again. I can’t have them thinking his presence is affecting me in any way. Forcing a laugh, I bring my beer bottle to my lips for a fortifying gulp.
“Hey, Dallas!” Frankie chirps a few seconds later, causing me to choke on my drink. I sputter, drawing Skye’s watchful eye. Dammit.
“If you’re here, where’s Ryder?” Skye asks, giving me a moment to get my shit together.
“He’s with Pops.”
I finally turn in my stool with what I hope is a believable smile. It falters when I realize every pair of eyes in the whole damn place is trained on us.
Sensing my panic, Dallas leans in real slow, setting his beer on the table and planting a soft kiss on my cheek. “I got this. Don’t worry,” he whispers in my ear. His breath tickles, causing goose bumps to rise on both of my arms.
Charlene Russell sidles up to the table, Norinne right on her heels. Those two are rarely seen apart, especially when there’s new gossip to be found. Not to be rude, but doesn’t Norinne have an entire bar full of patrons to wait on?
“Now that I’m off the clock, I can focus,” Charlene says with a ravenous grin. Oh, yikes.
Dallas drapes a casual arm over my shoulders and greets both women. “How are you fine ladies doin’ tonight?”
“I’ll be better once I hear how you proposed,” Charlene volleys back, her wide-eyed gaze shifting to me.
“Was it everything you ever thought it would be, Shelby?” Before either one of us can respond, she barks, “Oh! The ring!” causing everyone at our table and beyond to startle in our seats. “I forgot to look at the ring!”
Unaffected, Norinne leans into her bestie with a stage whisper. “Ix-nay on the ing-ray, Char. He screwed the pooch and bought a clunker.” Charlene gasps, and Dallas stiffens beside me. Oops. Well, I guess that’s what you get when you spin a web of lies, Mr. Gatsby.
I pat the hand resting on my shoulder. “Hey, a guy can’t be good at everything, right? He makes up for it elsewhere.” I immediately curse myself when Charlene and Norinne’s mouths curve in identical knowing grins. It does have the desired effect, though, as Dallas’s frame relaxes again.
“I’m taking care of it,” he improvises.
“Well?” Charlene demands, clearly moving past the ring and onto the proposal story. Her expression reminds me of Augustus Gloop from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, although Charlene has much better hair.
“Yes, do tell,” Skye adds with a smirk at Dallas as she props her chin on her hand. These Gambles are all a bunch of shit stirrers. I glare at her and start to panic, but I needn’t bother.
“Well, ladies, I’ll tell you,” Dallas begins, causing Charlene to teeter forward on her high-heeled sandals. “I thought to myself, ‘What would be Shelby’s dream proposal?’ It took a bit, but then inspiration just struck.” He snaps his fingers, and a riveted Charlene flinches but never loses focus.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” she croons.
“Me either,” I deadpan while Josie Mae coughs loudly into the crook of her elbow.
“So, I made some calls and snuck around behind this one’s back.” Dallas grins at me, and I can’t tamp my amusement down. He’s enjoying himself way too much. I just hope Charlene and Norinne mistake my mirth for a lovesick rapt expression.
“You sneaky devil, you.” I reach up and pinch his cheek as I egg him on, barely holding it together.
“And?” Charlene might actually pee her pants.
“Well, naturally, I made up some excuse to get her in my truck and then pretended I forgot I had an extra errand to run.”
“Clever,” Norinne throws in her two cents, but Charlene shushes her.
Dallas gazes down at me, that permanent twinkle in his eyes practically blinding me. “You should have seen Shelby’s expression when we got to our destination.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, Charlene shouts so loud we get the attention of several nearby tables. “Where did you take her?!” When she realizes she’s drawn a small crowd, she lowers her voice again. “Honestly, Dallas, you’re a slower storyteller than a toothless drunk man.”
I start to laugh until I realize her attention has shifted to me. “You tell it, Shelby. Where did he take you?”
My jaw locks, and I flash a panicked look at Dallas. But if I thought he’d come to my rescue, his shit-eating grin disabuses me of that notion right quick. Similar glances to Frankie, Skye, and Josie Mae yield nothing better.
In fact, Jo mirrors Skye’s pose and asks, “Yeah, Shelby. Where did he take you?” I’m going to strangle her.
I realize now I have to make this believable. Where would Dallas Gamble take a woman to propose? Not that it would ever happen, but if it did…
“To the swimming hole at Beaver Hollow Falls, of course. What better place to propose than where everyone in town goes to park and make out?”
When all of their faces fall, I know I’ve miscalculated, so I quickly add, “But it was super romantic. He packed some of those plastic champagne flutes and a nice bottle of bubbly.” My smile is brittle, I just know it.
Dallas’s arm tightens around me, and he pulls me back into his chest with a chuckle. “She’s just kidding, y’all.”
Relieved sighs reverberate around the table and nearby crowd. Even my three so-called friends let out loud exhales. What the fuck is wrong with them? They know this is all bullshit!
Dallas doesn’t pause for long, extending his free hand to sweep through the air like he’s setting a dramatic scene.
Good gravy. “The sun was low in the sky as we pulled up to this empty field outside Oklahoma City. And there, in the middle of nothing, was a turquoise hot air balloon resting on the grass.” I freeze because this is the furthest thing from what I expected him to say.
In fact, this exact proposal scene is on one of my Pinterest boards.
“Shelby’s always wanted to ride in one of those.
She almost started crying, didn’t you, Sweetness? ”
Since his smile is smug, I smile back, but I also pinch his thigh real hard. He swallows a yelp and carries on.
“So, the guy took us up, and we floated around and took in the scenery. You wouldn’t believe how quiet and peaceful it is up there. Shelby was ooohing and ahhhing all over the place, not that I blame her.”
I chance a glance at Charlene, and she looks like Dallas just found her G-spot.
“And just as we passed over a gorgeous lake, I dropped to one knee and popped the question.”
A round of “Awws” echoes through the bar, and again, my idiot friends follow suit, all three of them looking like they just watched the end of a super fucking fantastic Hallmark movie. Charlene’s even wiping away a tear.
“I just knew you were a romantic at heart, Dallas Gamble,” Norinne gushes.
Since I’ve said nothing, and I don’t want to sound like some ungrateful bridezilla, I add, “Yeah, it was so romantic, y’all. And the champagne glasses were even real!”
Apparently taking that as their cue, people start swarming me with hugs. But, once again, Dallas comes to the rescue, extending a hand and pulling me up from my stool.
It’s only then I realize the band just started playing “How Country Feels” by Randy Houser, taking my smile from fake to full-blown.
“I requested it special,” Dallas says loud enough for everyone to hear. Cue another round of swooning.
This is our song. Not in the romantic way couples have “their song,” but in a way that’s all about shared memories and a whole lot of fun times together. The clingy crowd fades away, and I let Dallas lead me to the dance floor.
“Well, aren’t you the Nora Roberts of fake proposals?” I comment when we’re out of earshot.
Dallas shuffles me to an open spot on the floor, hands framing my shoulders from behind. “I don’t know who that is, but hell yeah.”
I snort, and before long, we’re both laughing and stomping and doing a well-practiced line dance as the band plays.
I smile over at Dallas to see him grinning my way too. And I suddenly know that I can absolutely do this with him. He’s my best friend, and he’s always got my best interests at heart. Just like I hope I give back to him. We’ll pull through this.
And who knows? Maybe we’ll both find the perfect partner we’ve been waiting for.