Dart to Me (Texas Nights #2)

1. Julian

JULIAN

I step off the Greyhound bus, my boot kicking up small plumes of dust as they hit the gravel at the modest station.

A duffel bag is slung over my shoulder containing all I deem worth carrying from a life I am eager to leave behind.

My long sleeve shirt is barely hiding my tribal tattoos beneath the cuffs.

This is a small town, and the last I need is to be the talk of it.

It didn’t take long, as stares accompany me through town. Lawson Ridge isn’t accustomed to outsiders, especially not men like me who have the marks of a life lived hard and fast.

I hesitate at the fence, noticing my neighbor. Her back is to me, showering her garden. Her blonde hair falls down her back in waves. I watch as she pauses, tipping her head back to take in the sun. Okay, I’m not a creep. Announce yourself. I clear my throat, causing her to turn.

“Morning.”

Her eyes meet mine. I open my fence and walk toward her side. “Those are some impressive petunias.”

She straightens up, her gaze flitting across the tattoos peeking out beneath my shirt. “Thank you. They’re my grandmother’s favorite.”

“Seems like your grandmother had good taste. I’ve never had much of a green thumb myself, but I can appreciate the work that goes into keeping them alive.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” She sets down the hose, and brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear, revealing a smudge of soil on her cheek. “If you’re interested, I can give you some tips. Gardening can be therapeutic.”

“Therapy might be just what I need. And your name is?”

“Ellie. Ellie Harper. You must be my new neighbor?”

“That’s me. Julian Evans. I’m gonna get unpacked. Have a good day.”

You are not going to sleep with your neighbor. This is a fresh start. Keep your dick in your pants, Julian.

I stand on the threshold of my new home. The doorframe paint is peeling, and I open the door. Inside, I sit down my duffel bag, its contents spilling out like the fragments of my former life, waiting to be reassembled into something new.

I need to drop off my things and head over to check in with my new boss. The price for this place is nothing compared to what I paid in Houston. The cost of living in this small town is so much easier to come up with, for sure.

I hear the truck before I see it. The dealership here gave me a great deal on an older truck and I need a way to get around. My job is about twenty minutes away.

I walk back out the front door and see a man getting out of the truck. “Hey man, thanks for bringing it over for me.”

“No problem. We like to keep our customers happy. Here are your two set of keys. Gas tank is full also. Thanks for your business.”

The man gets into the work truck that pulled in after him, and they head out.

My neighbor’s eyes are on my truck. “Never seen an older truck before?”

She shakes her head. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s my grandpa’s truck. We sold it to the dealership after he passed.”

What a small world. “I promise to take good care of it.” I get inside, turn on the engine, and head toward my new job.

The job that is a fresh start. The path to the man I want to be, instead of the man I am. Everyone has mistakes they’ve made, but I won’t let them define me. Hence, the sudden move to this small town in the middle of nowhere Texas.

Thompson Development comes into view. Hopefully the guy isn’t a complete jackass.

It’s hard for me to hold my tongue, and I don’t need any trouble.

I stride in and go to the second floor, but the man isn’t what I expect.

Slicked back hair and a suit that probably cost more than I made in a month back in Houston. Lonnie extends a hand.

“Julian Evans. I’ve heard you’re quite the fighter, both in and out of the ring. We need someone with your… tenacity.”

Not sure how my fighting skills have anything to do with the job description, but okay. He seems too eager. “Happy to be on board.”

“Good. We play for high stakes here. I expect you to learn fast and hit the ground running.”

“I don’t intend to disappoint.”

“Let’s hope not.”

I nod, feeling the weight of his words. This job is my second chance, maybe my last. Thompson motions for me to follow him down a corridor lined with framed architectural plans and photographs of completed projects.

“Your predecessor left rather... abruptly. Construction management requires a firm hand. Our crews need someone who commands respect.”

What he’s not saying hangs in the air. My reputation precedes me – they know exactly why I left Houston, why my knuckles are still healing from the fight that cost me everything there.

“I understand, sir,” I reply, keeping my expression neutral. “I’m here to work, not cause problems.”

He stops at a window overlooking a construction site where men in hard hats scurry like ants around the skeleton of what will eventually be a shopping complex. “That’s our Meadow View project. Your project now.”

“When do I start?”

“Tomorrow, 6 AM sharp. The foreman, Mack, will show you around. He’s good people, been with us twenty years.” Thompson turns to face me directly. “One more thing, Evans. This town has been good to me. I protect what’s mine. Cross me, and you’ll find yourself wishing you’d stayed in Houston.”

I meet his gaze without flinching. “Understood.”

The ride back to my place gives me time to think. I need this to work. The boxing career is over—doctor’s orders after that last concussion. Construction management isn’t glamorous, but it’s honest work, far from the underground fights that nearly destroyed me.

When I pull up to my house, I spot Ellie again. She’s sitting on her porch swing, reading a book, a glass of something that catches the late afternoon sun beside her. When she notices me, she offers a small wave.

“How’s the book?” I ask, nodding toward the paperback in her hands. It has a man half-dressed on the cover.

“Predictable, but sometimes that’s comforting.” She closes it, using her finger to mark her place. “How was your first day?”

“Orientation. The real work starts tomorrow.”

“Who got their teeth into you?”

“Thompson Development.”

“Lonnie Thompson has quite the reputation around here.”

I didn’t like the way she said that. Maybe I should have done some research on the company before accepting. “Good or bad?”

“Depends who you ask. The farmers whose land he’s buying up might have a different opinion than the town council that approved his tax breaks.”

I tense. Office politics already, and I haven’t even started the job. “I’m just here to manage construction sites.”

“Of course.” She steps closer to the railing. “Look, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just... people talk in Lawson Ridge, and you seem like someone who might appreciate a heads-up.”

I study her face, trying to detect any hidden agenda, but all I see is sincerity. “I appreciate that. I’m not looking for complications.”

She smiles, and something in my chest tightens. “Few people are, Mr. Evans. Yet they find us anyway.”

“Julian,” I correct her. “Mr. Evans was my father, and trust me, I’m nothing like him.”

“Well, Julian, if you ever need someone to show you around town or recommend which diner actually serves edible food, my door’s always open.”

I nod, already backing away. Getting tangled up with a neighbor is exactly the kind of complication I don’t need.

“I should finish unpacking.” I gesture toward my house.

“Of course.” She picks up her book again, but her eyes remain on me. “Welcome to Lawson Ridge, Julian. I hope you find what you’re looking for here.”

Back inside my empty house, I dump the remaining contents of my duffel onto the bare mattress.

Clothes, toiletries, a worn boxing glove I couldn’t bring myself to toss, and a folded photograph of my mother—gone five years now.

The rest of my life fits in a single cardboard box being shipped from Houston.

I shower in the lukewarm water of an ancient plumbing system, watching dirt spiral down the drain. If only the past could be washed away so easily.

That night, I dream of the fight that ended everything. The crack of bone beneath my fist. Blood on the concrete. Sirens. And eyes watching me from the shadows.