Chapter 14 Dallas
Yes.
She said yes?
Has everyone lost their goddamn mind around here?
“Willow, stay out of this,” I tell her, my voice low and hoarse.
“Right, ’cause you’re doing so damn well on your own there,” she mutters back, then turns to Noah. “What would we have to do besides, you know, signing some papers?”
“You’d need an announcement—several, in fact. In the paper, the Blue River Ranch newsletter, invite as many people from town as you can.” Noah looks at me. “You’ll need to invite family—make it look real.”
Willow bites her bottom lip, making me wonder about her family.
I know enough that she wasn’t looking forward to staying with her mother.
Her father’s estranged. But what about the rest of her family?
Does she have anyone else? I shake my head.
I shouldn’t want to know about her family or anything else about the woman who’s somehow planted herself in my world. Invited or not.
Noah exhales. “Look, think about it. Talk about it. Act like you like each other and for God’s sake, get your damn story straight.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll call when I hear more. I don’t know when that’ll be, could be any time, so get on the same page soon.”
Wilder and I exchange looks and he crosses his arms—coming to my defense. “Didn’t I hear something about you helping out Levi and Tessa with a fake marriage certificate?”
Noah’s jaw works. “I did no such thing.” He glances at Willow like she’s not to be trusted. “And even if I had, such an illegal act would have been warranted only if the bride was, say, held against her will in protective custody.” He grits, “Which is not the case here.”
Wilder nods in understanding. “Of course—I must have misunderstood.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks for stopping by, boys. If you’ll excuse us.”
Noah nods. “I can take a hint. In all seriousness, Dallas. This is your daughter. The marriage would be temporary—can be as short as three months—until we can finalize the custody transfer.”
I nod back, my jaw tense. “And what the hell you suppose I tell Ellie? I’m not lying to her.”
He looks me in the eye. “If it were me? I would. She might slip up to the wrong person.”
I swallow. Lying is not an option—not to Ellie.
He closes his briefcase. “I’ve got a call scheduled with Glenda and Rachel on Thursday. Call me Wednesday and let me know what you decide.”
I walk them both out with nothing to think about. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m not lying to my daughter about her having a new mother. Nobody—least of all Ellie—needs to lose a mom all over again.
I glare at Willow silently until the door shuts. “You said yes. How could you do that to Ellie?”
Her brows snap. “You said no. How could you do that to Ellie?”
“I’m not about to—”
“We don’t have to lie to her.”
“Then how do you propose I do this?”
“We, Dallas. How do you propose we do this.”
“Right,” I exhale, then clench my teeth.
She sucks in a breath, pacing the living room. “We start by asking her what she wants. If it’s the same as what you want—that you want to be together—then we gently explain how that needs to happen, softening the truth.”
I swallow. “Willow. This is a legal marriage. We’d have to . . . get divorced. That’s no light commitment.”
She barely blinks. “Well then, you might as well drive me back to the airport now. Because unless you’re willing to do whatever it takes to keep your little girl with you, with her father—where she belongs—then you’re going to lose.
This Glenda Lost woman sounds like she plays hard. Let’s give her a real fight.”
“We can barely go ten minutes without a fight. How are we supposed to make three months work?”
She smirks. “With patience and a lot of heart.”
I know she means for Ellie—but something about the way she poses it to me is . . . hauntingly alluring.
“I don’t have much of either of those left,” I mumble to myself.
But she overhears. Frowns. “I know. Millie, right?”
I clench my back teeth.
“Sorry,” she breathes. “I’ll just lock that away with all the other subjects we don’t talk about.”
“It’s fine. And yes. That was her name.”
“I guess this would have been a much easier decision if it were her you were marrying instead of . . . well, some stranger.”
My stomach twists painfully. But it has nothing to do with my late fiancée. It’s the flicker of something raw in her voice. Maybe even a quiet ache. Like she’s some consolation prize.
I look at her. Willow’s hardly been a stranger. In fact, since the day we met, there’s been a connection that feels anything but strange. Not saying it feels right either. More like a puzzle that fits—but doesn’t quite match the picture.
I don’t want to insult Willow by leaving her assumption unanswered.
In fact—I’m not sure if Millie would’ve taken so lightly to becoming a mother overnight.
Especially to a child we didn’t make together.
But Willow—no loyalty or connection to me.
Zero obligations. Didn’t even blink twice at the thought.
Her mind’s on Ellie. On keeping us together.
Where mine should be.
I run a hand along my stubble. “I’m not so sure that would have worked out well either,” I tell her honestly, and that’s all she needs to know.
She narrows her eyes at me with a soft smirk. “I do. I think one look at that little girl and that’s all it would’ve taken.”
My chest lurches with that familiar ache. And I need to change the subject. There’s no point in wondering how Millie would have reacted.
“Tell me about your family. I’m . . . going to need to know about them—to some degree.”
A hesitant but curt nod. “I’m an only child.
My father was in and out of our lives all through my early childhood until he finally left when I was ten.
That’s when my mother’s career as a romance author took off.
Singing does not run in my family. But my grandmother did teach me to play piano.
I met Rose four years ago and she’s the closest to family I have. ”
I smirk. “We were pretty quick to adopt her too.” I rub my hands together, staying on track. “How’d we meet?”
“At the Lock Bar in Manhattan, of course. I was wearing your hoodie which I stole from Rose because it smelled so damn good. And knew exactly who it belonged to when its owner walked through the door in the matching cowboy hat.”
I chuckle, wondering how much of this will be made up. “And how’d we fall in love?”
She smirks. “Easy.” Then she turns and starts pacing the living room again. “Sparks started flying the moment I went back to finish my set.” She glances back at me. “I felt your eyes on me all night.”
Damn. “Fair enough.” I cross my arms. “What happened next?”
“I came here for a visit. Fell head over heels for your daughter. Ran into you without your shirt on and I was a goner.” She feigns a swoon with the back of her hand against her forehead and I hold back another laugh.
“So you fell first, huh?”
Her head snaps back up in shock. “Well, of course. You couldn’t possibly. Your first and only priority is Ellie. No time for love.”
I cross my arms. Getting too invested in this story. “Until . . .”
She smiles, satisfied she’s got my attention. “Until you saw me with her. We spent a passionate night together—we’ll of course give folks the U-rated version—and when I was about to leave town forever, you stopped me. Confessed your eternal love and asked me to stay.”
“Should probably dial it down a bit if you want anyone who’s ever met me to believe that story.”
She scans me head to toe. “Unless you’ve got a better story, we’re sticking with mine.”
I grumble. “Fine. But you’re going to get a lot of people calling bullshit if you use that ‘eternal love’ crap.”
She crosses her arms. “Fine—when we get to it, I’ll just hand it over to you.” She slaps my arm as if to demonstrate. “Oh, Dallas loves this part of the story. You tell ’em, dear.”
I roll my eyes. “Eternal love it is.”
Her eyes light up with the win and it makes my stomach fizz because . . . I made her happy. Even if it is for a bullshit reason.
I shift my focus, checking the time for Ellie’s return. “You’ll help me tell her?”
Her grin is soft when she shrugs, meeting my gaze. “Where else would I be?”
Wilder: Sorry for the ambush earlier.
Dallas: It’s fine.
Wilder: Y’all talk?
Dallas: She did most of it.
Wilder: I would’ve guessed. And?
Dallas: We’ll do it. But keep it quiet until we talk to Ellie.
Wilder: Goes without saying. What about Willow? You’re both in agreement?
Dallas: It’s just for three months—give or take. She’s fine with it.
Wilder: And you?
It’s a loaded question. If you’d asked me a day ago, I’d have said no goddamn way I could live with this woman.
Dallas: I’ll do anything for Ellie.
Wilder: Willow hardly classifies as anything.
Dallas: Try spending a weekend with her.
My heart turns to shreds when I see Ellie walk through the front door just a little before supper time. Her usual smile is upside down. Her eyes meet mine for half a second—enough for me to see she’s sad—then dip back down to the hardwood floor.
I lift my gaze to Rose. A faint twitch of her lip. Uneasy and unsure.
My mind races at what it could be. Bad day at school? Was it something Glenda said to her that could make her hate me?
Like the fact that I barely knew her mother? That I have no idea what I’m doing now that it’s just the two of us?
I’m so stunted in my fear, I forget to greet my girl.
“Hey sweetie, welcome home,” Willow says, crouching to her level. “How was your art class?”
Rose steps in. “Um . . . we’ve had better days, right, Ellie?” She flips over a sixteen-by-twenty canvas covered in scribbles.
Ellie glances at it without a response.
“I would have dropped her off earlier today but Wilder said to . . .”
I nod then shake my head. “It’s fine, thank you.” I reach for her art. “And . . . I’ll go hang up this thing of beauty.”
Willow straightens and reaches for it, then Ellie’s hand. “I know just the place. Come on, Slippers.”