Chapter 11 Willow #2
“I’m checking the status in the system right now. Jenny’s already got the petition to stop the adoption process.”
“How the—?”
I practically jump out of my seat at the holler.
“It only takes one party to have second thoughts for them to call pencils down on the custody transfer.”
“Hell. The guy is out of his mind, Noah.”
“Look, I’m not saying he’ll win, because any court will see she belongs with her biological, sane, sober, and business-owning father. But until it’s decided, it could take weeks or months of court dates. Till then . . .”
“Don’t say it.”
“She may have to go back to living with Hartly.”
Dallas lifts his hands off the wheel like he’s going to bang it but holds back. “How do I keep her, Noah?”
My heart thumps.
He’s choosing to fight.
“Odds are in your favor—unless he gets dirty. I’ll call you tomorrow when I know more.” Noah hangs up.
Dallas’s jaw ticks. “He already has got dirty,” he mutters under his breath and runs a hand over his stubble.
But he’s not putting the car back in drive.
The words are on the tip of my tongue. I can help him. I should help him. Lord knows no one’s ever needed me quite like this little family does right now.
I should take a moment. Really consider what I’d be offering to do here. Would I really do this? Stay in this dust-covered, tight-knit town with this grumpy cowboy who one second goes from looking at me like I hung the moon. And the next like he’s ready to toss me off it?
Heavens, I think I am.
I take a breath. “Look, I’m not saying we need to get married.”
“Course not.” He glances at my ring. “You’re married to never getting married. You think I don’t remember how fast you lied about having a boyfriend when you thought I was comin’ on to you in that bar?”
I twist the band around my finger. I don’t keep it on to repel men. But I have sworn off them for the foreseeable future. Or until I make my own future. Commit to making myself happy before anyone else.
And after Eric, I’m not exactly desperate for someone else to stake his claim, tell me what to do, where to sing, and who comes within three feet of me.
“Can we focus here and leave the digs aside for now?”
He grunts.
“You can’t let that little girl get tossed around. I know that’s no one’s intention, but it’s what will happen. If there’s a chance that just my presence can help—” He sighs mid-sentence, and I need to raise my tone to be heard. “—then why won’t you fucking take it, you giant bull-headed grump.”
He twists his neck to look at me. Eyes stretched wide. He breathes out hard, the kind of exhale that says, fine, you win.
Without another word, he flips the car around.
It’s a quiet ride for about five whole minutes until he asks, “You’re not a fugitive or anything, are you?”
“If your first guess as to why I’m offering to stay and help is that I’m running from the law, you’re in worse shape than I thought.”
“Just sayin’, it’s not often a pretty redhead with a sharp tongue workin’ toward a blackbelt drops her life to help a giant bull-headed grump.”
I shift in my seat, muttering, “Especially one as appreciative as you.”
“Now let’s get somethin’ straight—”
“Oh, this should be good.”
“For all we know, Cole could swing by tomorrow sayin’ he was high on whiskey and came to his senses. In which case, you’d be headin’ back to Manhattan, Sunset.”
“And if not?”
He waits a beat, twisting his neck like he’s got no choice. “Then it’s only right I pay you.”
“Pay me? To act like your wife?”
“To take care of Ellie,” he corrects, surprising me at how sincere he sounds. “Her eyes . . . lit up like I’ve never seen when she saw you step out onto the porch earlier.”
I’m quiet as I remember it. But my silence seems to make him nervous.
“Unless . . . taking care of her is a dealbreaker.”
“Ellie a dealbreaker? I’m doing this for her,” I snap.
There’s a shift in his gaze at my response. Soft with curiosity, tangled with caution. Something raw tugs at my heartstrings. The natural protectiveness at anyone taking interest in his girl. But with a flicker of hope for the very same thing.
I sigh, giving him more so he doesn’t get stalker vibes. “And me.” I roll my eyes. “Suppose a bit you, too.”
“Oh yeah? That why you so attached to my hoodie?”
“While we’re on that, if I could just get me one of those woodsy detergents you use, I’ll happily be on my way.”
His brows shoot up like I’ve insulted him. “OK, so not me. Then . . . why you? And spare me your wit. I want the truth.”
My heart starts to beat loud against my chest. Because he’s right, I would have used my wit to blow this one off—Rose would have seen right through it. And if the way Dallas is looking at me is any indication—he would too.
Truth.
“Well, I told you I’d be temporarily moving in with my mother until I find an apartment . . .”
“And you’re far from excited about it?” he guesses.
My face twists and knowing my habit of rambling, I know better than to get into it. “I’ll spare you the soap opera recap, but correct.”
He nods slowly and I realize that wasn’t a fair response to the truth.
I release a breath. “Maybe it’s because I see myself in her—” I mutter.
“Ellie, I mean. I was never in a custody battle.” I scoff.
“Not a conventional one anyway. I grew up with a parent who couldn’t be bothered, while the other made me feel like she was stuck rather than blessed with me.
” I twist the ring on my finger, keeping my gaze on it.
“When I was her age, no one fought for me the way you and Cole fought this evening.” I jerk at the understatement of that admission, then meet his eyes with my truth.
“I had to fight for that kind of attention.”
His brows twitch as he watches the road, and I can barely see his eyes. Making it hard to tell if there’s compassion in them . . . or pity.
“And if that’s not honest enough, I don’t have much to rush back to.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “No one’s . . . well, let’s just say I’d be more of a nuisance back home. And while it’s not lost on me I’d be just as much a nuisance to you—at least I can help you keep your baby girl.”
After a beat, he huffs, glancing over at me for a brief second. It’s enough to see the shift in his jaw, the warmth in his eyes. When he turns back, his chest lifts with a quiet inhale. But he still says nothing.
I sigh, easing the tension. “Plus, you know, my best friend is here. She’s one of the few I have, so . . . may as well make it a habit of stalkin’ her till I make a new one . . .” I chuckle, then pause when his eyes snap to me like I’m crazy. “What?”
“You don’t have friends?”
I roll my eyes. “I know, big surprise there, right? Who’d want to hang out with me and manage to get a word in with all my rambling?
I’ll have you know I’m a fabulous listener.
Not that you do a whole lot of talking—” I stop, eyes wide as I catch myself and sit back in my seat, watching the streetlights pass by as we head back up a familiar gravel road.
Dallas is quiet for a moment. “I just thought all you girls have . . .” He waves his hand around. “. . . friends, cliques, people you get all dressed up for on a Saturday night, ordering fireball shots.”
“Rose doesn’t do that. I sure as hell don’t. Must be a cowgirl thing.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. Leaving whatever’s in his mind unspoken. Then, after a moment, he rubs the stubble along his jaw with a heavy sigh, as if that was a lot to take in. “On second thoughts, think your wit would’ve been just fine.” He glances over at me and winks.
I gape at him just before smacking his forearm, then burst out laughing. “You’re the worst.” I shake my head. “But now I know for next time.”