16. Dallas
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dallas
The music in the barn vibrates through the wooden beams, a lively twang that gets even the most reluctant rancher tapping his boots.
Strings of lights drip from the rafters, casting a warm, golden glow over the barn.
Laughter bounces off the walls, couples spin and sway, kids dart underfoot, and the whole place hums with that buzz of New Year’s anticipation.
I should be soaking all of that in.
But I can’t stop staring at her.
Faith Ross.
In a dress so damn tight it should come with a warning label.
Every time I glimpse her, that smile of hers lights up deep inside me, pulling tight and sparking to life. A fuse I can’t outrun.
I’m doing a terrible job pretending I’m unaffected.
The moment I walked in and saw her on the far side of the barn with Jet and Rose, something inside me locked onto her. A bull seeing the gate open.
Her hair spills over her shoulders, soft waves framing that perfect face of hers. Pink gloss on her lips. Eyes scanning the crowd, searching for someone… me.
And when those eyes find me?
My heart nearly skips a beat.
I’m not ready for this.
Doesn’t matter.
No amount of preparation would have made a damn difference.
The band strikes up a fiddle-heavy line dance, and suddenly the crowd is moving, stepping and twirling, forming lines, a choreographed stampede. Jet gives Faith a nudge before disappearing into the crowd, and Boone pulls Rose onto the floor with that trademark grin of his.
Faith stands alone, near the edge, smoothing the fabric of her dress with nervous hands, looking just as unsure as I feel.
She looks like she belongs here, and at the same time, like she might bolt if someone says the wrong thing.
A few days ago, she was supposed to be someone’s wife, standing under crystal chandeliers in a city that never felt like hers.
Now she’s here, in Buckhorn, pretending her whole life didn’t just detonate.
I don’t know how you recover from that. I just know it doesn’t happen in a week.
Before I can talk myself out of it, before I can remind myself that getting too close to her is a mistake, I’m already heading toward her.
Her breath catches when she looks up, startled, but there’s hope in her gaze.
“Wanna dance?”
She hesitates for a beat, then smiles. "I don’t really know this one."
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, holding out my hand. “I’ll lead.”
Her fingers slip into mine. Warm. Soft. Smaller than I remember, and when her skin brushes mine, my mind goes blank.
This is a mistake.
A beautiful, reckless mistake I can’t pull myself away from.
The first thirty seconds? A total disaster.
Faith steps left when everyone else goes right. I turn too soon, and she bumps into me. Then I bump into someone else. We both stumble, laughing, trying to catch our balance in time with the twangy beat of the song.
And then she does it.
The giggle.
It’s so real, so unguarded, it catches me completely off guard. I can’t help the way my chest tightens, the way my gut responds. It's been too long since I’ve laughed like that, too long since something, or someone, made me forget everything else in the room.
The feeling scares me more than it should. Laughing like this feels like stealing something that belonged to another life, another version of me who didn’t know how fragile happiness was.
Belinda used to laugh like this. Loud. Unrestrained. And the part of me that loved her wonders what it means that I’m here now, smiling with someone else.
Yet, I join her, my own laugh spilling out, and it feels… good. Not forced, not sarcastic, not weighed down by all the things that usually sit on my shoulders. Just… laughter. Uncontrollable and easy.
She looks up at me, cheeks flushed with the mix of her giggles and the dance, her eyes lighting up as if she's never felt more free.
“Whoops,” she says, the words still breathless from the laughter, but her eyes are dancing with that sparkle I’d forgotten she had.
“I knew you were bad, but this bad…?” I tease, leaning in just a little too close, letting the moment stretch longer than it should.
She bites her lip, then shrugs with that playful look that always drives me crazy. “I’m doing my best.”
My grin grows, and I lean in a little more. “You’re dangerous.”
Her breath catches, and it hits as a physical punch to the gut. She knows exactly what I mean. The way her gaze lingers on me for just a beat longer than necessary, her lips parted slightly, tells me everything.
She doesn’t pull away.
She looks at me, probably debating whether to punch me or kiss me. And I’m hoping for the latter. Her shoulder brushes mine, and the warmth of her body presses into me.
We try again, this time with a little less insanity. It’s still clumsy. Still off-beat. Still completely ridiculous.
But we’re laughing. And she’s smiling at me as if I’m the only man in this whole damn barn.
Halfway through the song, she stumbles, maybe from someone jostling her, maybe from her heel slipping, right into me.
I catch her. Her hands press flat against my chest. My fingers close around her waist.
This isn’t just about me anymore. Every choice I make echoes into Lila’s world. Letting someone this close doesn’t just risk my heart. It risks hers, too.
Faith wouldn’t just be a woman I want. She’d be someone Lila might love. Someone who could stay… or leave.
The world goes silent to me, even though the music still thumps and people keep dancing around us. None of it reaches me with her this close.
Her breath catches, warm against my jaw.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
I should let go.
I don’t.
Her fingers curl against my shirt, tugging me closer. “Dallas…”
Dangerous. So damn dangerous.
I loosen my grip on her waist, but only so I can slide my hand lower, resting on the curve of her hip. It’s instinct. It’s gravity. It’s me being pulled toward her, drowning in this fire between us.
Someone whistles. Probably Nash. Or Clay. Doesn’t matter. I barely hear it.
Faith’s gaze drops to my mouth, and I swear my pulse stops.
That’s it.
I’m gone.
The song changes, but we don’t move.
We’re still standing there, locked together, too close. Our hearts beating in sync, the world spinning around us.
“You wanna…” She swallows. “Step outside? It’s loud.”
I know exactly what stepping outside means. Fewer eyes. Fewer rules. Fewer reasons to stop.
It’s irresponsible. Reckless.
Exactly what I should avoid.
“Yeah.”
We slip out the side door into the cool night. The snow crunches beneath our boots, the air crisp, the sound of distant laughter still echoing from inside, and the smell of woodsmoke from the fire pit drifting in.
The quiet hits us as a tidal wave.
But it’s charged.
She rubs her arms, a shiver running down her spine. “Cold.”
I shrug off my jacket without thinking, draping it over her shoulders. She looks up at me, pulling it tighter around herself, swallowing in the warmth of me.
Her breath fogs between us.
“This is nice,” she murmurs. “Tonight. The dance. You.”
My insides snap.
I close the distance between us.
Her back hits the barn wall with a soft thud. Snowflakes cling to her hair as glitter. Her lips part, her breath a soft gasp that sends my mind into a tailspin.
“Faith,” I rasp.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not thinking straight.”
Her hands slide up my chest, slow and sure, fingers curling into the collar of my shirt.
“Good,” she breathes with the same hunger that’s burning me alive. “Me neither.”
Heat explodes through me, and I plant one hand beside her head, steadying myself. The other finds her waist, pulling her closer.
There’s no space between us now.
She tilts her chin up, her lips barely brushing mine.
And then?
I kiss her.
Hard. Hungry. All the days, all the years of buried longing burst out in one single, explosive spark.
She melts into me instantly. Her hands bury themselves in my hair, pulling me closer, kissing me back with desperate, urgent need. Her body presses against mine, soft and warm and perfectly molded to me.
I groan when her fingers tug at the back of my neck. She doesn’t hold back. She takes the kiss deeper, pulling me into her, matching every move with her own.
The cold disappears.
The night disappears.
Everything disappears.
Except her.
Her lips, warm and soft and fierce against mine.
Her breath catching when my thumb slips under the hem of her dress, brushing the bare skin of her thigh.
The soft little sound she makes, half gasp, half plea, when I press her harder against the wall.
“Dallas…” she breathes, trembling with need.
“Faith,” I manage, kissing her deeper, slower, then harder, the heat coursing through us as fire.
She arches into me.
I lose the last shreds of restraint I had left.
My hand moves lower, cupping her thigh, pulling her even closer. She grabs my shirt, fisting the fabric, pulling me into her. She’s starving for me.
Her mouth opens under mine, and the world tilts.
Then it dissolves.
I don’t know how to be a man who wants something again without losing what he already has… but tonight, I want her anyway.