Chapter 6 Dallas
“Thanks,” I rasp as Wilder drops me off in front of my house on Friday night. “And thanks for keeping it quiet for now. I don’t want Ellie to know I’m here this weekend.”
Wilder nods, looking at the house skeptically. “Think you can get a lot of it done this weekend?”
“Sure as hell going to try.”
“Well, don’t start tonight. It’s late.”
The drive back did take longer than planned. But we got everything we needed.
“Go on.” I hop out of the truck. “Get home to your girl before she falls asleep waitin’ up for you.”
My brother checks his phone. “Might’ve missed my window. Hey, think you’ll need any help this weekend? With Ellie at Ginger’s I was thinking of taking a trip with Rose tomorrow. Just over to Hideaway Springs. Spend a weekend with some friends.”
“Told you, I don’t need help.” I glance back at the house. “Think Ellie’s mad I sent her to Ginger’s for the weekend?”
Wilder scoffs. “How should I know? She’s your kid. But it won’t matter when they drop her off here on Sunday afternoon.”
I nod as I make a mental list of the finishing touches the house still needs. Furniture to unwrap, curtain rods to put up, grocery store to clean out, rugs—shit, I know there was more . . .
“Sure you’re ready?” Wilder snaps me out of my daze.
“I’m sure I don’t want her doubting that I am.” My hand tightens on the top of the door. “That and . . . I can’t deliver the news without giving her this.”
My brother releases a breath, nodding slowly. Then lightens the mood with a perked brow. “That’s not a yes.”
I flash him a cocky grin. “Get out of here before you miss that window.”
“Night,” he mutters and backs out of my driveway.
I move toward the house, gravel crunching under my boots as I go. The light on the porch flickers and I make a note to replace the bulb before sundown tomorrow.
Something’s off when I walk in. Maybe it just feels cooler in here than last week.
Place needs heat. I’ve already arranged for heating installation on Monday. There’s a space heater in the master bedroom that I’ll move to Ellie’s room for Sunday night.
Still too much to do there as well. Dresser to build.
That damn canopy to hang over her bed. Rose found it in a catalog a few weeks ago and I didn’t think twice.
It looked simple enough to fasten over the bed, the decorative gold crown giving way to a sheer, pale pink veil that will fall around the headboard.
According to Rose, it’s “the perfect addition to any princess’s bedroom. ”
I look around for anything else that feels off. The tarp has been removed from the grand piano. It was Ellie’s grandmother’s, but Cole said they hadn’t used it in years and it might be a good addition to the house.
But I don’t remember uncovering it. Shit. Hope those damn coyotes didn’t find their way in.
I continue looking around for any signs of damage, but there’s no light in here and I’m too damn tired to dig out a flashlight.
I leave my hat on the piano and head upstairs, following the humming noise from my room. Did I leave that heater running?
Stepping in, I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the floor. The heat in the room hits me hard. The hell? I never have it up this high. I’m about to walk over to lower it when a wild shadow of limbs comes out of nowhere.
“Ka-ya!”
I dodge on instinct, but then an elbow clips my shoulder.
“What the—”
A foot misses my groin and hits my thigh, and I grab the flailing arms of the person attacking me in my bedroom.
I squint into the darkness, making out a petite woman with wild red hair, taking swings any which way she can. I grip her arms, and yank her around, pinning her to the wall. “Stop.”
She sucks in a breath. “Let go of me or I’ll scream. You’re trespassing.”
“I’m trespassing? This is my house.”
In the moonlight, I see her eyes widen. “Dallas,” she whispers. A soft, almost fucking angelic voice comes from the beast that just tried to knock me unconscious.
I let go like she’s a disease I can’t afford to catch and step back. “What the hell is going on here?”
She holds her hands up in defense. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I—I’m Willow. Rose’s friend.”
I release a breath, not entirely inclined to tell her I knew exactly who she was the moment she said my name. I’d never forget that voice. Those eyes.
I cross my arms with a glare.
Willow covers her face. “Oh my gosh, I knew this was a bad idea,” she mutters, then sucks in a breath and tries again.
“I wanted to give Wilder and Rose some time alone tonight and, well—you weren’t even supposed to be here.
” Her eyes trail my bare chest, warm and lingering, landing somewhere along my mid-section.
I’m outraged. I swear I am. But who am I to interrupt a woman who likes what she—fuck, what am I doing?
I stretch out my arms. “I’m sorry—should I leave?”
She blinks, eyes snapping to mine. “No. No, of course not. I’ll just—” She rushes past me to the bed, bare arms tossing sheets aside like she’s looking for something, and that’s when I notice the rest of her.
She’s in the shortest pair of thin cotton shorts—either white or light blue, I can’t tell. A matching short-sleeve shirt. Barefoot, she stands on her tiptoes as she reaches further into the bed for a thin cotton bathrobe and throws her arms through it.
“You’ll just what?”
She swings around. “I’ll just, um—well, uh . . .”
I tilt my head and walk toward her. “You’ll spend the night here. We’ll chat in the morning.” Reaching around her, I grab the spare pillow and turn to walk out the door.
“I can take another room,” she calls after me.
I look at the bed. “This one’s already warm. I’ll start the fire downstairs and settle down there.”
“Dallas.”
There she goes again with my name. Saying it like she knows more about me than she should. Maybe I’m mistaking the tenderness for something else. Maybe pity?
I stop and turn back. Can only imagine how much her friend has told her about me. About the grieving, the child I never knew about. The house no one thinks I’ll finish before the winter.
“Look, Red—”
“Willow. Don’t call me Red.”
But I don’t want to call her that either. The name is too goddamn pretty. I’ve heard it once or twice from Rose. And then that night at the bar when we met. Felt it roll off my tongue too easily. Like it had always lived there—longing to be said out loud.
Jaw tight, I shift my gaze, mentally stepping back as if I’ve crossed some invisible line. A creeping weight settles in my chest that can only be described as guilt.
It’s a simple enough request—valid, in fact. But who the hell knows what else I’d do for this woman if only she asks in that sweet raspy voice again. That does it. She needs to go. “You’re lucky I’m not calling you an escort out of my home.”
Her expression shifts as she sets her hands on her hips, glaring at me. “It’s not like I broke in. The door was practically wide open. And I wouldn’t exactly call it your home. More like a work in progress.”
My eyes blaze and as much as that comeback stings, the stir in my stomach to keep going with this gorgeous spitfire is stronger.
Which means I need to put this to rest. I’m clearly mentally drained for even considering bantering like two adults fighting their attraction.
I scoff. “You know, if I weren’t lookin’ to help my brother and his girl have some alone time myself, I’d be dropping you off at their door right now. So why don’t you just say thank you and goodnight.”
She blinks and jerks back. “Fine, thank you. I just get a little annoyed when people call me Red, OK? My self-defense instructor called me that and I whacked that guy in the nose. Sure he told me to, but you get the point.”
I bite back a chuckle and point back to the door where she greeted me with her panicked assault. “That was self-defense? Our ranch manager Ginger would’a had more luck whacking a guy unconscious with her pocketbook.”
That seems to hit a nerve and I don’t take pleasure in it. Willow crosses her arms with a huff and tilts her head to the side. “Wasn’t expecting anyone. And I’m kind of in the middle of nowhere.”
“Well, neither was I. And it’s not nowhere. It’s my ranch.”
“Wilder’s house is on the ranch. This . . . is so far out, looks like it never quite made it off the ranch.”
I swallow because she’s right. The ranch is my home. Always came first. Till Millie became number one. But there were days she felt like she was competing.
This is where she wanted it, I almost say.
“Yeah, well then, why stay here? Alone?”
She shrugs. “How often does a city girl get to stay in a place like this?”
Her tone is almost wistful and it makes me wonder. I lean against the door frame. “Ghostly?”
“Stunning,” she says without hesitation. “A bit larger than I imagine is necessary, but doesn’t make what you built here any less remarkable.”
I frown. “You like it?”
She breathes out a chuckle. “Like it is . . . an understatement.”
I stare blankly at her, trying to figure out what it is about her admiration for the house that hits me differently. I shake my head and grip the door handle.
“Goodnight . . . Willow.”
She blinks uncomfortably. “Goodnight.”
An hour later, I’m staring into the fire. Its flames blurring as my thoughts sink deeper into the redheaded wonder upstairs.
The one that took me days to get out of my head after I left New York. Who I could still hear singing at that piano, wearing my sweatshirt like she wanted to live in it.
My chest squeezes again with a new ache. Betrayal. I pinch the bridge of my nose. I need sleep. Maybe then I could stop thinking with the wrong organ. Millie has my heart—that’s not changing. Not six months after losing her. Not ever.
Ellie is the only exception. She needs to be all that exists. In my mind. In my heart. In this home I’ve built.
If I’m going to be up all night thinking about anything, it’s going be how I plan to finish this house in two days. Enough to make it livable anyway.
There’s a little piece of me that wonders whether I imagined it all. That what just happened upstairs was the result of pure exhaustion.
But I wasn’t brave enough to go back up there to confirm it.
Instead, I built the small fire, laid out some blankets on the dusty wooden floor, tossed the pillow over it, and sat down. Replaying—and condemning—every real moment from upstairs.
She likes the house.
The woman takes self-defense classes for whatever reason. Which means she’s thinking ahead . . . or something happened. Yet she still wanted to spend the night here—alone, ready to take on whatever might come.
She’s either certifiably insane. Or brave as hell.
One thing’s for damn sure.
First thing in the morning, this woman needs to go.
I slip out the front door just past dawn. The chill of the early morning shouldn’t be as biting since I spent the night on a cold floor.
Hopping in my truck, I head down to the stables to check on Trouble. She’s my feisty, stubborn horse. Her dark coal color reflects her temperament. But I like her. When we ride, there’s nothing like it. She’s proud, fast, and dependable.
And I’m pretty sure she feels the same.
“Hey, Trouble.” I stroke her muzzle. “Want to do some rounds with me?” Grabbing a blanket and bridle, I mount up and take her out across the pasture.
After checking the fences and cattle, I ride up the ridge to Wilder’s to have a little chat with my brother’s girlfriend.
I loop Trouble’s reins over the rail and step in through the back porch, into the kitchen.
Coffee’s already brewing but there’s no sign of Rose.
With a low grunt, I wash my hands and make myself a mug.
“Hey,” a harsh whisper from my brother. “You’re supposed to be in Scottsville through the weekend, which is what I told Rose, like you asked me to,” he reminds me.
I hadn’t wanted to risk Ellie finding out I’m back and leaving her with Ginger through the weekend while I finish the house.
I hold up a hand, but he doesn’t stop.
“She sees you down here this early, we both have some explaining to do.”
“She’s just the person I need to see, so why don’t you call her down here for me.”
Wilder frowns then rolls his eyes. “Dear Lord, what’d she do now?”
I cross my arms just as Rose enters the kitchen, her eyes gleaming in that way they did on her first day at the ranch. The way I knew she was just what my brother needed. “Dallas, you’re back. Did you drive all night?”
I grin. “Nope. Got in last night. With Wilder actually.”
My brother pins me with a hard glare.
Rose looks confused. “But where did you—” Her eyes widen.
“My house. You know the one, by the river.”
She glances at Wilder. Then over my shoulder like she’s expecting to find someone. “Uh—are you alone?”
“Course I am.”
She fidgets playfully. “Did you find, um . . . were there any . . . critters in the house?”
With one brow up, the corner of my mouth twitches. “Oh, just one. Pretty big one, actually. Feisty little creature, found it on my bed of all places.”
Wilder jerks. “Holy shit. Did ya toss it back outside?”
I tear my eyes off Rose lazily to look at my brother. “Oh, I thought about it.”
“But you didn’t, right?” Rose stammers.
Wilder folds his arms, suspicion etched across his face as he leans back against the wall, watching us.
“No,” I say flatly.
Rose releases a breath, then looks at Wilder with a tentative smile.
He pushes off the wall and rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Feel free to drop Willow off here later.” Then he addresses Rose. “I’ll go reschedule our weekend getaway.”