Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Dakota
“ E lla, have we received the documents for the Bronson file yet?” I can’t help but keep the impatience out of my voice as I find her desk in our waiting area. It’s not her fault that every file I’ve touched this week has gone to shit. It’s not her fault that the judge that showed up to court for my trial this morning just so happens to be the same one that I always lose against. It’s certainly not her fault that I can’t seem to keep Chance out of my brain, no matter how hard I try.
So here I am, short with everyone, in a shitty mood, and ready for today to be over.
Ella finishes what she’s typing and looks up at me. “No, Dakota, sorry. Nothing yet. Do you want me to call their office again?” She’s hesitant in her answer, and I don’t blame her. I’ve been a down-right bitch to everyone today.
“No, it’s okay, thank you. I’m sure they’ll send it soon.” I try to soften my voice and hide my irritation, even if it takes everything in me.
“Um, Dakota?” Ella asks timidly as I move to walk back to my office, saving her from having to be exposed to my misery any further.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay? You seem a little—off.”
I open my mouth to respond when Mike walks from his office and down the hall, not paying us any attention. Whatever is on his phone screen has him occupied, but it’s a good reminder that I can’t talk about anything that’s bothering me here, out in the open, even if I wanted to. Which, I certainly don’t.
But still, I wish I had someone I could confide in. Normally I would tell Addie, but she’s far up my ass about how much of a jerk Chance is and that I’m only going to get myself hurt—which is true—but it’s stopped me from really opening up to her about how I’m feeling.
That leaves me with no one.
No one but Ella, who’s looking up at me with genuine concern in her eyes.
“Um, yeah. It’s been a long day.” I look toward my office, but don’t take a step.
I’m torn. I really don’t want to talk about it, but at the same time, I want that release. I want to unburden myself. Ella’s looking at me as if she could be that person.
“I…uh…” I look back at my office again. “Can I talk to you in my office?”
I don’t bother to look to check that she’s behind me. Instead, I’m scanning the hallways and offices to see who might have overheard us or seen us. Even though we aren’t doing anything suspicious. Ella helps me with cases all the time. Her walking into my office isn’t anything out of the ordinary.
So why do I feel so guilty?
Shutting the door behind us, I stalk to my seat, rubbing my sweaty palms along my thighs as I sit down.
“You’re scaring me, Dakota. What’s going on?” Ella’s voice is thick with worry as she sits across from me, eyes wide.
“I’m going to tell you something, but you need to promise not to tell anyone. Ever.”
“Is this about a case?”
“No, nothing like that.” My eyes drift to the closed door behind her. I know no one can hear me and the frosted glass of the window makes it so no one can see anything but our figures. “Promise me, Ella.”
“I promise.”
Even though I don’t know her that well, I trust her. She’s always been excellent at her job, and everyone only has great things to say about her. I’ve never heard her gossip, or say things she shouldn’t, which is very important when working in a law office. Most importantly, she’s married to one of the hottest country stars in the world right now; that has to come with a level of trust.
“Chance and I aren’t really dating.” I blurt out.
Sweat drips down my back as I continue rubbing my hands along my legs. I force myself not to start fidgeting or rocking.
“What? But the dates? The flowers?”
“All fake. We’re fake dating. For the rodeo.”
“The rodeo,” she repeats, looking at me as if I have two heads.
“Yeah. Some of the sponsors threatened to pull out because of his playboy status. He saved me from Laughlin. It was an exchange. An agreement. But then it wasn’t fake, and we slept together, and now I don’t know what we are.” I cross my arms on my desk and lower my head, taking deep breaths.
I know what I just unloaded onto Ella doesn’t make sense. Well, it wouldn’t to her anyway, but it is out there. I said it. Now the burden can just leave, right?
Why didn’t the burden just leave?
“Okay. So you’re fake dating, but you’re not?” she says slowly.
“To Chance we’re fake dating.”
“But to you?”
Pressure builds in my chest at her question. It should be fake dating to me. I shouldn’t have any feelings for Chance what-so-ever. He’s a playboy cowboy with a reputation of burning through women faster than an eight-second ride.
“I don’t know,” I finally blurt out, taking a moment to gather my breath before raising my head to look at her.
Thankfully, I don’t see any judgement on her face. I see the look of a woman who’s genuinely concerned, and a little confused—which, I don’t blame her.
“Can you start from the beginning? How did you get into this?”
So I do. I tell her about running into Chance at the bar, about Laughlin, about everything. Including our weekend together after the gala. I pour out things I haven’t told anyone; things I haven’t even admitted to myself. Like how when he’s not pissing me off, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. How there are traces of humour in him that I don’t think he lets many people see. I tell her that from what I’ve seen, he’s a really smart businessman and loves his ranch, and his employees—even though he would never admit to that.
“Well, I don’t think there’s any confusion here. You’re in love with him,” Ella says with a smirk.
“No, I can’t be in love with him! We have an end date. This will be over after this weekend and then I’ll never talk to him again.”
“But do you have to?” she asks, watching me.
“If I’m in love with him, I would kind of need to still talk to him, Ella.” My eyebrows draw together, and I can feel the ‘WTF lines’ on my forehead forming.
“No, silly,” she laughs. “Do you have to stop seeing him after this weekend? Have you talked to him about any of this?”
“Talk to him,” I repeat slowly, letting the words roll off of my tongue. “About what?”
She rolls her eyes. “About making this not fake. Really, Dakota, for someone that makes a living arguing you’re really not getting this.”
A new wave of panic courses through my body at the mention of telling any of this to Chance.
I drop my head back to my arms and take another deep breath.
“Dakota?” Ella’s voice is soft and comforting as she places a hand on my shoulder.
I didn’t even hear her get up and move beside me. This isn’t like me. I’m usually so observant. It’s my job. This is just another example of how Chance is making me feel like I’m losing my mind.
“Dakota, what’s really going on? Is there a reason you shouldn’t be in love with Chance?”
“Other than his reputation for being a woman-using manwhore who only cares about himself?” I ask between breaths.
“But is he really that?” She gives me a moment to answer, but when I don’t, she continues. “The way you just talked about him, I don’t think he is. Or you don’t see him that way, at least.”
Her hand moves to my back and rubs in calming circles, allowing me to breathe slower and deeper.
“No, I don’t see him that way,” I whisper.
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
Her hand drops as I sit up, looking up at her. The corner of her mouth ticks up in a small, reassuring smile. All of a sudden, the pressure on my chest doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. The release of the burden I was seeking finally coming.
She’s not judging me or telling me that I’m going to ruin my life for loving someone like Chance. No, not someone like Chance. I’m in love with Chance Declan.
“I guess I need to talk to him?” I say as more of a question than a statement.
“I think that’s probably a good idea.” Movement on the other side of the glass by my door catches our attention. “Someone’s here. When you do talk to him, just be honest, okay? I might not be the best person to give advice on love since it took Greyson and I years to figure us out, but I do know that once we were honest with each other, things got a whole lot better.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze before crossing my office and gliding through the door.
I take a moment to breathe, pulling out my phone and checking my appearance in the camera app, making sure I don’t look as ragged as I feel; which thankfully, I don’t.
I know what Ella said makes sense. Just like in a case, you can’t win if you don’t make a good argument, and I know with Chance, any discussion we have about this is going to be an argument.
I’m not even sure why I’m entertaining the thought of having this discussion with him. He’s made it very clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me after the rodeo. That our weekend together was just a one-time thing. If our dinner together at The Lucky Dog was any indication, we probably won’t even make it to the end of the weekend.
But I can’t help but wonder ‘what if?’
What if I tell him that I don’t want it to end, and he agrees?
What if I tell him that I love him, and he tells me he loves me too?
What if I pour my heart out to him, and he walks away?
“Uh, Dakota?” Ella pops her head back into my office. “You may have that opportunity a little quicker than you thought.”
The door opens wider, and Chance appears behind her, dressed in his standard black button-up and jeans. His beloved black Stetson on his head, looking every inch the sexy cowboy that he is.
“Dakota.”
The rumble of his voice sets off such a conflict of emotions inside of me. I feel the rush and elation of hearing him say my name, needing to hear him say it just one more time to know that I didn’t make it up. At the same time, the crushing weight of my anxiety is back, knowing that I’m going to need to have this talk with him, and I want to do anything humanly possible to avoid it.
“I’ll, uh, leave you to it then.” Ella mouths ‘good luck’ to me before moving out of the way, leaving Chance standing there in all his cowboy glory.
Chance gives Ella a nod before crossing the threshold into my office and closing the door behind him.
I use the moment to gather my thoughts. I start to shuffle papers around on my desk before me, acting as if I have any control over the situation when I, in fact, do not.
I need to act as if I’m cool and collected, not that I didn’t just have a breakdown in my office moments before. I need to pretend that the way he strides across my office isn’t setting my body on fire. How the way his blue eyes run over my face and chest, like he knows every inch of skin he sees. I need my body to stop reacting as he comes over to me, leaning against my desk and brushes the tips of his fingers across my cheek before lifting my chin up so my eyes meet his.
“Hi,” he says softly.
“Hi,” I breathe.
My gut instinct is to turn away from him. I should pull back, yank my face from his grasp, and ask him how he dares to show up and act like he has a right to be in my office after the way he treated me the other night.
But I can’t, because my body betrays me, and I can’t do anything but sit still and look at him.
“I should have called.”
“Yes, you should have.”
The stubble on his chin is longer than his normal, and if I’m not mistaken, there are bags under his eyes that aren’t normally there. I would like to think his behaviour the other night caused him to lose as much sleep as I have, but I doubt it. I doubt anything woman-related would cause the Chance Declan to lose a minute of shut-eye.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?” I pull back, pushing my chair to roll some space between us.
Of all the words that were about to come out of his mouth, that wasn’t any of them I expected.
“I’m sorry I left you the other night. That was wrong of me. I should have driven you back to your car.”
“That’s a start,” I say crossing my arms over my chest. “You absolutely shouldn’t have left me stranded at a bar when you were the one to pick me up.”
“You’re right. That was an asshole move. I deserve to be on your asshole-o-meter.”
I narrow my eyes at him. He’s showing up here, acting sweet, agreeing with me, and remembering the made up name I use for gauge jerks.
“You want something.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking my stance, but somehow looks resigned at the same time.
“Spit it out, Declan.” I grit out, bracing for what he’s about to ask—or demand, since I know Chance Declan doesn’t ask for anything.
“Wyatt overheard some of the sponsors talking. We’re not doing a good job of convincing them.”
“No shit.” My tone is laced with my impatience. I’m waiting for him to spit out what he came here to ask for.
I can’t believe I was just contemplating spilling my heart to him. The man in front of me that looks sexy as sin and gives no regard for anyone other than himself. He’s not here because he hurt me and left me in the pub. No, he’s here because he still needs me to save his rodeo.
“The rodeo is this weekend. Hasn’t all the money from the sponsors been given?” I ask, keeping my arms crossed and holding my sides tighter. Maybe if I hold them tight enough, they’ll act like a shield for whatever is about to happen.
“Yes, but they’re saying that this will be the last year. That they won’t be doing it again if I’m still going to be running the ranch.”
“So, find new sponsors.”
“It’s not that simple, Dakota.” He pushes himself off my desk, throwing his arms to the side as he starts to pace. “Whiskey Falls is a small town nowhere near a city. We rely on each other here.”
“You asked me to get you through this year, Chance. I’m not sure what you want me to do about next year.”
Considering we won’t be together then , I add mentally.
“That’s why I’m here. Wyatt came up with a plan.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“He, uh…” Chance stops and starts to rub the back of his neck. He looks uncomfortable, like for the first time he’s had his iron-clad confidence shaken, which makes me all the more interested to find out what it is that Wyatt suggested to him.
“We need something big at the dinner tomorrow. Something that will really convince them that I’m not the man they think I am.”
“Even though you really are,” I mutter under my breath. “So, what did you come up with? A big kiss where you dip me backwards and make a show of how ‘in love we are?’” I use air quotes and roll my eyes, ignoring the stabbing feeling in my heart because no matter how much I don’t want it to, him being here is affecting me in a way that I have no right feeling. “A grand entrance? Do you want me to hang off your every word?”
He stops his pacing and drops his arm, looking at me. His ice blue eyes are intense and heated, making it as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. “I need to propose, and you need to accept.”
I can’t move. The pain in my chest increases ten-fold as I stare into his eyes, waiting for him to tell me this is some crazy joke. That he didn’t just suggest that we not only pretend to be fake-dating, but that we also get fake-engaged. In public. In front of all the rodeo sponsors, contestants, and media.
But he’s not laughing.
“Say something,” he demands, putting his hands down on my desk, leaning over it.
He’s not eye-level with me, and I can’t help but notice the way his shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, or how intense his bright blue eyes are against the black of his cowboy hat. His tanned skin almost shimmers in the light streaming from the window behind me.
If he weren’t such an asshole, he’d be beautiful.
“Well, Dakota?”
I lick my lips, and take pleasure in the way his eyes dart, following the movement of my tongue. When his gaze returns to mine, I know here’s a hidden passion there he doesn’t want me to know about, but it’s too late.
It’s also too bad that the more I spend time with him, the more I realize I need to train myself not to care.
“Sure, Chance. Whatever you say.” I tick up the corner of my mouth. “Over my dead body.”