Chapter 21 Dallas
I’m not surprised to see Rose coming over with Wilder on Saturday night. In fact, I expected her. Hoped even that she’d come to spend the evening with Willow while the guys drag me out on the town for a dumb pre-wedding ritual.
What I am surprised about though—is that Rose is dressed for a night out herself and Ginger is stepping in behind them.
“Where’s that cupcake of mine?” Ginger starts. “We’re going to watch movies and make popcorn—”
“Hang on.” I glance at Rose as if I’m missing something, then turn back to Ginger. “What’s going on here? The girls’ party is next week. We don’t need you watching Ellie tonight.”
Ginger’s grey eyes beam. “Oh, I know, I’m goin’ to that party.” Then she frowns, turning an accusing glare at Rose. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
Rose bites her lip.
I don’t wait for her response. Flipping around, I move to the stairs, gripping the banister with a tight fist. “Willow,” I howl like a father of an out-of-control teenager, fully aware I’m making everyone in the room uncomfortable and not giving a shit.
The steady sound of heels moving across the floorboards overhead. My jaw hardens as I lift my gaze to the top of the stairs.
“Thank you so much, Ginger. She’s just upstairs, drying off her bath toys.” Willow’s voice is soft, calm even, as she comes downstairs, ignoring my outburst.
She’s in blue jeans and a black sequined top, hair down, eyes made up in a smoky purple. Lips red.
“I’ll just heat up dinner for you two.” She disappears into the kitchen.
“Did I miss something?” I call out to everyone in the room.
Wilder sighs, chin tilting toward his girlfriend. “She didn’t tell him?”
“Tell me what?”
The doorbell rings again. Noah and Silas let themselves in. “Reservations at eigh—whoa.” Silas frowns, glancing from my hard glare to Wilder. “What’s up with him?”
Wilder cocks his head to the couch. “You boys should have a seat for now. Might be a while.”
I run a hand down my face in frustration. “Don’t get comfortable. This’ll only take a minute.” I march to the kitchen just as Willow locks the back doors and shutters.
“Something you need to tell me?” I try to keep my voice down, I really do.
“Yes,” she answers without sparing me a glance. “I’m going out. So I asked Ginger to watch Ellie. She’s more than happy to.”
“I know she is. Not the point. When were you going to run that by me?”
She jerks, brown eyes widening at my tone. “Run that by you? I don’t owe you a—”
“I’ve got two paychecks that says you do,” I snap back. She looks too damn good and I’m picking up all kinds of bad vibes with her not telling me about this.
I hear one of the guys grunt in the background at my comment and my stomach twists. But I’m not a fan of being caught off guard.
Willow continues to clear the counter. Her silence pounds against my chest, indicating I might’ve crossed some line with the I’m your boss move.
I’m about to take it down a level—or three—but then she answers.
“I got a job,” she says flatly.
I stare at her, heat rising again. “What do you mean, you got a job? You already got one.”
“It’s only Saturday nights. Playing at . . . a spot right here in town.”
“There’s over a dozen—which one?”
Her eyes flick sideways with no answer.
“Oh, you don’t want to tell me.” I move around the counter to her. “Think I’m going to show up and cause a scene?”
My focus shifts from being annoyed that she kept this from me until the last second, to comparing me to one of her exes.
She rolls her eyes and glances over my shoulder. Where I’m sure we’ve got an audience. After all, there’s hardly a wall between the living room and kitchen.
“Gee, why would I ever think that . . .” she mutters.
“Willow.”
Another voice cuts in behind me. “Actually, Dallas,” Noah starts. “If she’s got a job, especially one in town . . . no one can say you’re paying her for . . . anything else.”
Wilder steps in, a little more tentatively than my lawyer. “He’s got a point, Dal. Let this one go.”
My jaw tightens as I pull my gaze off my bride-to-be to my brother. “Next time Rose gets a wild idea, I’m supporting it,” I mutter.
Wilder shrugs, glancing at the tiny brunette at his side. “I probably would too after I bitch about it for a day.”
I glare at him.
“We’ll be outside,” my brother says, then practically shoves the others out to the front porch.
I turn back to Willow, barely taking a moment to breathe. “What time will you be home?”
She crosses her arms. “Why do you care?”
I jerk at the question—and the attitude. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her jaw clenches and she shifts her gaze momentarily. “I’m here for Ellie, right? I got her a capable sitter—who’ll have her in bed in an hour anyway. So, what does it matter where I am or what I’m doing?”
She’s being a brat. Why is she being a brat?
We’re eye to eye for a moment. “Fine. You got a job doing what you like, I get it. I won’t stop you.” I step closer, into her space. “But I want to know why you didn’t tell me.”
She lifts her chin. “Because we’re not a couple.
We’re living under the same roof, but let’s be real, I’m no one to you.
You don’t tell me why you kissed me—or why you’re acting like it never happened.
I don’t tell you that I found a life outside of it.
Something else to do once a week—other than not being the woman you thought you’d marry.
” With both hands, she presses hard against my chest and I step back, letting her pass.
Something twists in my gut. Something that shouldn’t be hitting me so hard. But it’s sharp. It’s heavy.
And this time, I can’t ignore it.
I hurt her.
“Willow.” It’s barely a whisper—not enough conviction to stop her, but I want to. I mean to. “Willow,” I try again, my feet moving this time, catching her arm as she crosses into the living room.
She flips around, eyes glancing up the stairs where Ellie and Ginger quietly pad across the landing from the bathroom to her bedroom.
I swallow, reading the message. “This every Saturday night?” I ask as softly as I can manage, the gruffness in my voice still lingering.
She blinks. “If they like me, yes.”
Then I’m screwed.
I sigh. “That’s when all the weirdos are out.” I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m not even sure I know what “weirdos” is supposed to mean. What I want to say is “single men.”
“Don’t be silly, weirdos are out every night. Least in my part of town,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
Her last words should serve as the reminder we likely both need right now.
She doesn’t live here. This is temporary.
But all it does is twist me up a little more.
This is temporary.
I couldn’t tell you what I like about this little arrangement—but what I can say is, I don’t like the idea of Willow being anywhere else in the world but here.
I’m not ready to tell her this. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m ready to try and make sense of it myself.
“Fine,” I relent. “Call me when you’re done. I’ll pick you up. That’s not up for discussion.”
She smirks. “Nice try. Rose is my ride. She’ll have me home by one . . . ish.”
“Midnight.” It’s a challenge because even when I’m still simmering down from our sparring, I enjoy this fire between us. The push and pull.
“Or what? My clothes will turn to rags and my heels to slippers?”
I shove my blazer on with a smirk of my own. Because my comment doesn’t come out of nowhere. “Something like that. You won’t make it past midnight.”
If there’s one thing I noticed about Willow the past two weeks it’s that she’s no night owl. About an hour before midnight, she starts to fade, makes her tea, and starts her nightly routine.
Her eyes soften for a second. Shimmering with something uncertain before her defiance returns. “I’m a musician. Staying up late comes with the territory.”
That might be true, but doesn’t mean she likes it. “We’ll see,” I tell her, then grab my keys and head for the door. “Have fun.”
As much as I might grumble about it, I do mean it. Wherever she’s performing—and I will find out just where—I want her to enjoy herself. She’s been selfless since the day we made our arrangement. She should get to do what she loves without anyone getting in her way.
“You too,” she says, in a dragged-out, half-hearted way.
I don’t know who won this round.
I’m not even sure it was a round or if this is just us.
But I can’t wait for the next one.
The music is too loud. But the whiskey’s smooth, so at least there’s that.
Silas—who planned the whole thing—promised low-key. Which I naively believed, since we’re just outside of town. There’s a mile-long night-life strip here. A go-to spot if you’re looking to get out of Blue River but not committed enough for Denver.
We’re at a place called Salt Rim. Which is no strip club, thankfully, but the place is still too loud and busy for my liking.
Still, for Silas—and the typical rituals I’ve heard the hockey team do when someone’s getting hitched—I’ll take it.
I’m sitting at the bar with Wilder, who slips his phone away when I look over.
I twist my neck. “Gotta say, I’m surprised. Not like you to let Rose be out on the town without you knowing where to find her.”
Wilder pauses mid-sip. He doesn’t look at me when he pours down the amber liquid.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” He sucks his teeth, twisting the glass like he’s inspecting it.
“You know something?”
Wilder glances behind us. “Will you relax and try to have a good time?”
Silas and Chase all but jump us from behind. “Grabbed us a table in front of the stage,” Silas shouts. “Come on.”
The stage? There’s a stage?
I’d laugh if I weren’t already annoyed. “No goddamn way. You boys enjoy.”
The teammates exchange a look like they expected this reaction and walk away—which should probably worry me.
I twist back to Wilder. “You know where the girls are.”
Another casual sip with no response.
Noah stretches an arm between us, lifting his drink. “Course he knows. His wife tells him where she’s going.”
“Girlfriend. And she only tells me because she knows I’ll always find her.”
Least she wants to be found—even if she pretends not to.
Willow made it painfully clear she doesn’t want me coming for her.
And that’s fine. I’m not about spying or keeping her from doing something she loves.
But then I think of Rose’s first night on the town—and Ricky Callahan slipping his arm around her and offering her his smoked sausages.
And it doesn’t sit right with me. Leaving her to fend for herself in a town that works nothing like the one she’s from.
“Tell me where they are.” I say calmly, but there’s a bite in my undertone my brother wouldn’t miss.
He chuckles. “I would, but something tells me you’re about to change that thought to Willow who?”
Unlikely.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” A female voice comes over the microphone. “It is a very special night.”
I flick my eyes over to the vaguely familiar blonde on stage. “Just tell me.”
“You’re not married yet, now let it go.”
“Y’all know what I’m talking about, Dallas Thorne is getting married next week, folks. So my girls and I are here to give him something special.”
I clench my teeth. “I’m leaving.”
Two other women bounce up on stage with a mix of joy and sex appeal, working up the crowd—who cheer them on.
Theme dancers—not strippers. All in matching fringe jeans, sports bras, boots, and cowgirl hats.
The blonde one comes up to me and takes my hand, leading me to a chair—I’m too busy registering her face to resist.
“Laurie,” I say as I remember her. We had a minor stint right before I met Millie. Barely remember it or why we broke up. But . . . here she is. I move my head back, needing distance to take her in. “New gig?”
The dance isn’t erotic. It’s showier and meant to entertain.
Which is a relief.
She smirks, gripping my shoulders and sitting on my lap facing me, smelling like a sweet cocktail and perfume. “Special occasion.”
“Right.”
“Don’t worry.” She winks. “You can still catch me at the Blue Branch each night—except Saturdays.”
She doesn’t dance at the Blue Branch. Plays piano there, I think. Last time I was there, I got into a fight with Ricky Callahan. Our parents might’ve started the rivalry—but Ricky keeps it alive. Using anything and anyone he can to get to me.
Ever since he ripped two of our best cowboys from us this summer, Ricky’s been hanging out at the Branch instead of Bones—our usual spot.
Which is for the best—the less that evil man is around my family and crew, the better.
“Good to kn— Did you say except Saturdays?”
“That’s right. You planning to visit me?”
I lift her off me and stand. “Thanks for the dance, Laurie. But I’ve got to run.”
She steps back. “You coming back?”
“Probably not.”
Wilder stops me halfway to the door, hand to my chest. “All right, all right. We pushed it with the dance. But it’s over now, will you come and finish that drink with me?”
“You let them go to the Branch? Really?”
He glances over my shoulder to Laurie. “I didn’t let them do anything. It’s where Willow got her gig—what was I supposed to do? Besides, it’s a non-issue—Rose and Wes go there all the time.”
“That’s because Wes’s got it bad for Dusty Callahan. There’s always a ninety percent chance she and Ricky are there.”
Wilder’s jaw tightens like he’s second-guessing his decision. “Dusty likes Rose, she’s not going to mess with her.”
I nod curtly. “Fine. You keep telling yourself that while I get my ass over there. Because the only Ricky Callahan I know is the one who loves nothing more than to fuck with me. And if he saw the announcement, he’s going to ride that for all it’s worth.”