Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
YOU’LL NEVER CATCH THE SUNSET SITTIN’ IN THE SHADE
Shelby
“Have I told you what a lifesaver you are?”
“Don’t go praising me just yet,” Archie protests, slamming his SUV door shut behind him. “I’ve only agreed to help out. I’m not sure how much I can do in the end. Tiff has a strong case.”
I take secret pleasure in Archie’s use of our nickname for Tiffany Grace, even though he doesn’t really know her.
It’s the little things sometimes. “Well, taking on Ridge’s divorce case for free is already enough to win you brother-of-the-year status.
” I close the passenger door and head for the stairs to my apartment, stopping on the way to grab my mail.
The late afternoon sun kisses the backs of our necks as we ascend to my place.
We left the Gambles to themselves at the ranch, the somber mood having somewhat lightened with Archie’s arrival.
Not enough to put anyone fully at ease, though.
Ridge still looked hungover, even though Dallas and Skye cleared out the liquor cabinet yesterday to save him from himself.
I guess beer still did the job, though, not that I blame him.
The one bright spot in this whole clusterfuck is that Houston’s finally coming home for more than just an afternoon.
He stops in a few times a year when he’s got a break in his rodeo schedule, but he never stays, much to everyone’s disappointment.
That man has a demon chasing him, and I reckon her name might be Josie Mae Turner, not that he’d ever admit it.
The apartment smells faintly of orange blossoms from my favorite essential oil diffuser, and I make a mental note to bring it back to Dallas’s sometime. “Just drop your bag in the guest room, Arch, and I’ll get us some drinks.”
I open the fridge to inspect its contents, but it’s practically empty.
No surprise there since I’ve been staying with Dallas for so long.
A pang hits me when I think of moving back in and living by myself again.
If Dallas has his way, it will happen in a matter of days.
I swipe two cans of seltzer from the door compartment and close the refrigerator with a little more force than necessary.
“I forgot how…turquoise this place is.” Archie’s eyes flit over my living space, an expression of mild distaste on his face.
“Put a plug in your talk box, little brother.” I toss the seltzer at him, and he snatches it easily from the air before it can hit him in the chest. He cracks it open and wanders my living room, checking out my fabulous decor.
“So, now that we don’t have an audience, you wanna tell me what’s up with you and Dallas? I can’t decide which of you was eye-fucking the other harder when your backs were turned.”
I gasp in mock indignation, but it lasts all of three seconds before I sink my butt into a couch cushion and sigh. “What’s up is I’m in deep, deep trouble.” I crack my seltzer open and take a long pull, the bubbles tickling my throat.
Archie barks out a laugh. “Oh, I figured as much.”
“I’m completely in love with the man, and I think it’s mutual, but things are a little up in the air,” I confess.
“How so?”
I lean forward, setting my can on a coaster on the coffee table with a loud clack. “He said he loved me and then took it back.”
Archie’s chin jerks. “Took it back? How exactly does that work?”
“He thinks he’s doing me a favor.” I roll my eyes. “He’s under the impression he’s not good enough for me or something.”
“Ah.” Archie’s tone is knowing, and it gets my back up.
“What does that mean?” I ask his back as he bends to inspect a photo frame.
“Well, it makes sense when you think about it,” is his baffling answer.
“I’m not better than Dallas! He’s an amazing man. He’s my best freaking friend, for Pete’s sake.”
Archie turns and throws his palms up in defense like I’m about to throw another can of seltzer at him. If I had another one, I just might. “I mean, as your brother, it’s my right to think nobody is good enough for you.”
My heart softens at that. Damn teddy bear.
“But that’s not what I meant,” he finishes. I cross my arms and wait for him to continue. He hesitates, probably checking for signs I might assault him, before continuing. “You’ve just never made a secret of your expectations of men.”
Since I know he’s right, I have no choice but to stay silent. Instead, I turn my head to follow him as he rounds the back of the couch.
Archie shrugs. “You can’t blame a guy for thinking he can’t measure up.”
“This is ridiculous, though. Dallas has always been such a confident guy, and women everywhere adore him. It doesn’t make sense for him to feel the least bit unworthy.”
“Well, then, I guess it’s your job to define what worth means to you when it comes to him.” He eyes me. “If you want to be with him, that is.”
I drop my head back and close my eyes. “I really fucked this up for myself, didn’t I?”
Archie pats my head from behind the couch like I’m a dog. “I think you can split the blame with Dallas. After all, he’s been single all this time for a reason.”
I open my eyes to look at my brother. He’s upside down from this angle and kind of looks like our daddy.
“You know, one of the last conversations I had with Momma was her telling me to watch my heart and wait for a guy who knew how to treat it right. A guy like Daddy. I guess over time, my expectations just compounded, and I felt like I had to do right by her.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure she only ever wanted you to be happy, whatever that means.”
He’s right. Of course he is.
I sigh, and he pats my head one more time before resuming his inspection of my living room.
“I can’t believe you still have this picture.
” Archie laughs, holding up a frame with a snapshot of our parents from the very same Knockers County Fair photo booth Dallas nearly burned down the other day.
They’re in sepia, dressed as outlaws and scowling at the camera with their best bad-guy mugs, both failing miserably at the effort.
“Momma never could keep from smiling, even when she was trying to be stern.” I cast a wistful look at the photo, warmth filling my chest, along with the familiar shot of grief that never really goes away.
“I don’t know about that.” Archie grins and sets the photo back down. “She could hold a good grudge when she and Daddy got into it.”
I tilt my head, my brows drawing together. “I don’t remember them fighting.”
“Seriously?”
“I think I would remember. I’m older than you by two years. They were madly in love.”
“Maybe so, but they still fought. Oh, god. Don’t you remember that one year when Daddy forgot their anniversary and went to play poker with the Jameson brothers?” I jolt at his words. “Momma was fit to be tied. Didn’t speak to him for a whole week.”
A vague memory of my daddy walking around on eggshells and my momma glaring daggers at him niggles at the back of my mind. I shake my head. “I guess nobody is perfect.” Lord knows I’m not.
“Doesn’t mean two people can’t be perfect for each other, though, right?” Archie’s got a single eyebrow raised at me and a knowing twinkle in his eye.
“Who’s the hopeless romantic now?”
I lick my lips nervously, my hands worrying the paper in my lap as I wait for Dallas to walk through the door.
It’s Sunday, and Dallas was a no-show at church. I spent the night at my place with Archie, and we ordered takeout from Pound Town, eating it in front of the TV and getting caught up. Tulsa is only three hours away, but with both of our busy schedules, we don’t see each other as often as we should.
Dallas is obviously avoiding me, but that’s okay.
I have a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one.
I lay awake in bed last night thinking about my conversation with Archie and about all the things I value about Dallas.
It’s high time I show him how absolutely worthy of love he is and how we belong together.
Who am I to dictate how someone shows their love for me? I’ve been a complete idiot.
So, in the wee hours of the morning, I decided it was my turn for a few gestures, though I’m not sure how grand they are.
First up, I broke into his truck this morning—which wasn’t hard to do considering he never locks the damn thing when it’s parked in his drive—and plugged a USB device into his radio console.
I accompanied it with a sticky note reading, “Press play. P.S. Prince Charmings come in all different forms.”
If things went to plan, Dallas drove around today listening to Wrangled and Wronged by My Rival Rancher, one of my favorite enemies-to-lovers romance novels about neighbors who fight like cats and dogs to secretly hide that they’re head over heels in love with each other.
My ultimate hope is to show him that romance doesn’t have to be all flowery proclamations and bed-and-breakfast weekends.
It can be snarky comebacks while secretly sacrificing yourself for the other person’s happiness, just like Everett does for Darby.
My second project, the one that has me strangely nervous as I sit waiting on Dallas’s bed, proved to be much more challenging. It turns out writing poems is fucking hard! God bless Elias, the poetry professor, but this shit ain’t for science-y people to undertake.
I hear the front door open and shut, followed by the jangle of Nelly’s collar and the footfall of heavy boots across the wood floor.
Dallas clears the bedroom doorway a minute later, dressed in old jeans that do fantastic things for his thighs (Oh, who are we kidding?
It’s his thighs that do fantastic things for the jeans.) and an olive-green T-shirt that molds to his chest like he just took home first prize at a wet T-shirt contest. Yum.
His steps falter when he sees me, his eyebrows spiking halfway to his hairline. “I thought you were with Archie.” His tone is almost accusatory, but I ignore it. Nelly runs straight for me, his nose buried in my thigh while I give him a good scratch behind the ears.
“He went home. I wanted to talk to you.”
His hand goes to the back of his neck. “Uh, can we raincheck it? I got a lot to do.”
“Nope.” I pop the P, and he scowls. Even his scowl is hot. And cute. Before he can protest again, I ask, “How are you liking the audiobook? You remind me a little of Everett right now.” I can’t help my grin.
He growls. The man literally growls at me.
Oh well. Time to press on. “I wrote something for you.”
His expression turns suspicious now. “Shelby, I really don’t—”
I cut him off. “Just let me read it, and then you can skulk away if you want to. I promise.” I cross my heart for good measure, and Dallas sighs in resignation, hands landing on his hips just to make sure I can’t ignore his irritation.
Welp, here goes nothing. I clear my throat and take a deep breath, straightening my spine as I perch on the edge of the bed.
“It’s a poem. The working title is ‘My Favorite Things.’” I bob my head back and forth before continuing, “But I wasn’t exactly going for a Julie Andrews vibe, so I might change it.”
The scowl is back, so I clear my throat again, lift the paper, and begin reciting my terrible poem.
You say you’re not romantic
It’s taken me too long to see
That your heart is gigantic
And you’re the perfect one for me
I glance up to gauge his reaction, but his face is a blank mask. Maybe I should just focus on the paper before I chicken out.
We have the best time when we dance
You let me win at darts
You always look for every chance
To brag about my smarts
You know all of my favorite songs
And you’re a damn great dad
You have the very best of dongs
The best I’ve ever had
I can’t help but chance another glance and am gratified to see his lips twitch just the tiniest bit.
First one to defend my honor
Never asking who’s to blame
Like when you told off that guy Connor
And you punched that loser Shane
You volunteered to knock me up
So I can be a mom
You drive me slowly in your truck
’Cause you know it keeps me calm
You keep an eye on my blood sugar
Always leaving snacks around
I have to put in the word booger
It’s the only rhyme I found
This time, he lets out a tiny snort, so I don’t even need to lift my eyes from the paper.
You let me decorate your house
On National Spaghetti Day
You promised you would be my spouse
And I would marry you today
You make me feel like family
When I need it the most
You laugh at my profanity
And make me midnight toast
You put me first in every way
And always make me laugh
I trust you more than I can say
You are my better half
You’re so protective of my heart
And say I need a prince
But I loved you from the very start
And have done ever since
You’re everything I’ll ever need
And now this poem’s done
And I don’t need Meemaw’s weed
To know that you’re the one.
I lower the paper and look him square in the eye. “So, what do you think? Writing poems is hard, and I swear on my truck that I’ll never ever ask you to do it.”
His expression has lost all irritation and impatience. His eyes have gone soft, and one corner of his mouth is hitched in that beloved lopsided grin. “You know you’re ridiculous, don’t you?”
My lips spread in a wide grin. I toss the paper aside and stand, ready to pounce on him. Maybe my poetry skills are better than I thought!
But before I can make a move, Ryder bursts through the door, all arms and legs, announcing to what I can only guess is the entire town, “Pizza night!!!!”