Chapter 13 Willow #3
I blush, giving in and pushing my hair behind my ear. “Sorry—sometimes I take small-talk compliments too far. What I meant to say was, thanks.”
He shakes his head. “It’s a fond memory. No need to apologize for it.” He runs a hand down his face. “Guess we did kind of start off on the wrong foot.”
I glance down to his thigh. “Or high kick.”
He laughs and it’s so real and hearty, it breaks something in me. “Definitely wrong high kick.” He agrees, stepping closer, but I don’t think he meant to. It’s almost natural. Pulling.
But now, he’s so close, I have to lift my chin to look at him. I must have moved too because my back hits the counter edge.
“Willow,” he starts. “It’s not that I don’t like you. In fact, I think I’ve made it pretty damn obvious I’m attracted to you.”
Good lord, I could have sworn it was the other way around.
He’s definitely tired and I’m likely the one who’s worn him out.
My heart skips as if a man in my life is something I could ever even consider again.
Especially not a man like Dallas. He might not be deceptive or manipulative like the others. But the man has heartbreak written all over him.
“Too damn attracted,” he growls low, eyes flicking to my lips then back up to meet mine. “But I know this is the last thing either of us want or need.”
I frown up at him.
“Think it’s pretty damn clear you’re over the hearts and flowers. Least of all from someone like me.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I mutter.
He nods and looks around the house as if remembering who it was all for. What he’s lost. What he never wants to go through again. But he doesn’t define his need to hold back. Dallas would be the type to suffer in silence.
“So . . .” He scans me, jaw working like he’s pained, then meets my eyes. “You’re going to have to help me if I look like I’m about to cross some line.”
I want to swallow but he’s too close.
Do I want to help him—or even remind him—if he’s about to cross some line? What if I want to see what’s behind door number two—or seven?
What if I choose to be reckless—just for a moment? With him. What if he needs it? What if we both need it? Would I really be helping either of us by pushing him away?
I swallow. Yes. I would. I swore I’d never hand my heart over again. Wanting and allowing are two different things. And he’s trusting me not to let either win.
I nod. “That won’t be a problem, Spout.”
He winces and grunts. “And you . . . can’t call me Spout.”
“It’s the most unsexy name I can think of—I’m sticking with Spout.”
There’s a knock on the door.
This time, Dallas swallows. “That’s probably Rose with Ellie.”
“We should probably get it then.”
I follow him as he marches across the living room and to the front door. I close the piano lid, eyes scanning the space like a seven-year-old cares if it’s clean or not.
“The hell?” I hear Dallas mutter before he pulls the door open.
My heart tugs and I’m afraid it might be Cole again. But Wilder steps in instead. And he’s not alone. A good-looking man in a suit—definitely no cowboy, perfectly trimmed beard and dark tousled hair—steps inside. His eyes immediately land on me, but he doesn’t bother with an intro.
Rude much?
Wilder, on the other hand, does. He smiles softly. “Hello, Willow.”
“Wilder, nice to see you again.”
“Noah Reeves,” the other man says sharply.
I smile politely. “I recognize your voice from Dallas’s speaker last night.”
Noah turns a hard glare on my boss. “Never have your attorney on speaker.”
Dallas rolls his eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Checked in with Rachel at social services. Cole’s not dropping it. He’s got himself a lawyer on it.” By the sharp edge of Noah’s jaw, I take it he not only knows this lawyer—but doesn’t like her.
“Yeah, I know—Glenda Lost.”
“One and only,” Noah confirms like she’s something to be feared.
“That’s an unfortunate name for an attorney,” I chime in.
Noah steps inside, tossing his briefcase over the piano.
I eye it with clenched teeth. “Well, she’s about to prove you wrong, because she plays dirty.
She’s also on the school board, so—all too conveniently—she was helping with dismissal today and decided to flat out ask Ellie who ‘the woman’ staying with her is.
” Noah stretches his arms out like Dallas and I did something against his advice. “And Ellie said, ‘My new nanny.’”
I wince.
But Dallas doesn’t. He moves over to the piano and pulls the briefcase off carefully, resting it on the floor. “I’m not lyin’ to Ellie. Willow is her new nanny, so—”
“Hope you plan on paying her off the books because she’s supposed to be Ellie’s stepmom.”
“I never said that,” Dallas snaps.
“It was implied,” Noah growls back. “Rachel told me what went down here last night. Cole came over to talk, and you ambushed him with a sudden bogus engagement. He said the ring on Willow’s finger couldn’t possibly be real.”
“Is Glenda Lost even allowed to talk to my daughter?”
Noah cocks his head. “She asked a kid a valid question at dismissal. I told you, the woman plays dirty. I don’t even know how Cole’s affording her, but my guess is she’s doing it for pennies just to come after the biggest name in Blue River.”
Dallas sighs like he doesn’t disagree and I—want to practice my high kick on this woman.
I bet she’s a blonde. I hate blondes.
“I don’t care. Tell her she can’t talk to my daughter and that she doesn’t scare me one—”
“What can we do?” I ask, like the true New Yorker I am. We problem-solve like we walk the streets of Midtown, with purpose and efficiency.
Noah glances at Wilder as if to say, here’s where I drop the bomb. “Because of what Ellie told her, Glenda’s now going all the way. She’ll use the fake-fiancé line in court and it’ll be a strike against your character, make you look like you’re hiding something.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Dallas bites out.
Noah releases a heavy breath. “As your attorney, I’m strongly advising you here.”
Dallas runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Advising what?”
“Get hitched. For real.”
“For real? Are you fucking with me, Reeves?”
“It’s the only way to prove y’all weren’t full of shit.” He tosses his arms up with a shrug. “I’m sorry, Dal. I can’t confidently help you unless you do.”
Dallas cranks his neck as if to say, then that’s that.
“No,” he says flatly—at the same time as I say “Yes.”