Chapter 25 Willow
On Monday evening, I sit in on Rose’s art class at the cottage. Watching her do what she does best and teaching it to the kids in town.
Today’s lesson was to draw something we love doing out in nature.
I don’t sit next to Ellie. I want this space to be her own, without me looking over her shoulder. Instead, I sit in the back, with a blank canvas of my own.
Would it be too suggestive if I drew a picture of a cowboy catching a redhead with his lasso?
I chuckle to myself.
Rose might find it hilarious—and ask questions. Lots of them. The minute I walked in here, she noticed the difference in my mood. Telling me I looked “happier today” and a little more like I “belong”—whatever that means.
Least she didn’t tell me I was glowing.
I told her the short version. Dallas and I made up. And then broke up. Agreeing to keep things strictly Ellie-focused for the time being.
She still had that concerned-friend look on her face. And I get it. I’ve got a track record for falling for what’s bad for me. And then falling hard on my ass when it’s over.
But Dallas is the kind of man who would never want to hurt me. But he’s also the kind of man who would do it without trying.
After the kids get picked up, I hand Rose my wet canvas, where I painted streaks of pinks, yellows, and orange over a blue river.
“Oh, pretty, is this a sunset?”
“Well, it’s either that or a strange-lookin’ rainbow.”
I reach out for Ellie, who’s got her hand in the cookie jar. “Ready, Slippers? Your dad says dinner’s almost ready and it’s going to rain soon.”
She grabs two cookies and gives me her picture to hold. “Ready.”
I look at her art today, almost afraid of what I might find. But it looks innocent enough. Like a field of dandelions.
“How pretty,” Rose comments.
Ellie beams. “There’s one for all of us.”
“All of us?” I ask.
She nods. “So you can all make a wish. You, Daddy, Rose, Uncle Wilder . . .” she goes on. I wait for her to skip Cole, but she mentions both grandpas.
“Where’s yours?” I ask.
She shrugs and picks up her backpack. “I already made mine.”
Rose pouts like that’s the cutest thing she’s ever heard. But I know this kid better. And I’m almost afraid to ask what that little wish was.
“Saving that cookie for after dinner?” I ask, walking to the golf cart.
She stuffs it her mouth. “Nope.”
“Figured. Bring me one?”
She holds the other one up for me. “Yep.”
We’re at the house within minutes and I roll the cart under the low-roofed carport on the side of the house just as I hear thunder rolling in the distance. “Uh-oh, better hurry before we get that painting wet.”
Ellie and I scramble toward the house, the strong wind tugging at our clothes and hair. We slip inside and shut the door against howls.
A warm, rich scent of lemon and garlic wraps around me, tugging a smile from my lips.
Ellie sets down her painting and kicks off her boots. I follow her to the kitchen. Dallas is in an oil-stained white shirt and jeans. Hair damp, a dishtowel over his shoulder. And for the first time in weeks—he doesn’t look all that grumpy.
“There they are.” Dallas glances over at us from behind the counter. “Dinner in five.” He does a double-take at Ellie. “Hold up. Get over here.”
She giggles as he comes around the counter and lifts her over it. “Are those crumbs on your chin?”
“Maybe.” She chuckles.
He sniffs the corner of her mouth and gasps. “Chocolate chip.” He tickles her tummy and winks. “Go wash up.”
Ellie races to the bathroom but not before tattling. “Willow had one too.”
Dallas tosses the rag down. My stomach flips when he pulls me close and presses his nose to the side of my face with a low growl.
I press my lips together and shake my head. “You can’t prove anything.”
His arms trap me, palms braced on either side of the island. “Oh, I think I can make you open your mouth for me.”
My eyes shimmer with a warning, but I can’t help the smiling, the teasing.
The sizzling of my skin.
“Smells good in here.” I eye the table set for three. Dinner napkins, wine glasses, a colorful salad bowl, garlic bread. “What’s the occasion?”
It’s not his first time cooking dinner while I’m here. But it’s rarely this . . . involved. This . . . homey. Usually he’d grill something outside or whip up Ellie’s favorite pasta dish.
He shrugs, blue eyes meeting mine like he’s got a secret. “Yeah, well. Suddenly realized, the kitchen’s my favorite place in the house.”
I fight a smirk as heat creeps up my neck.
Ellie steps out and he steps back—but not as quickly as I’d imagined. More like he’s doing it for my benefit.
Like for him . . . it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Ellie saw us this close. This . . . happy.
The oven beeps and I step around the island to wash my hands while Dallas plates up our dinner. My phone rings and I look at the screen.
Mom.
I ignore it. The clouds grow dark and thunder rolls.
How fitting.
“You can grab that, we’ll wait.”
I shake my head and silence it. “I’ll call her back. Let’s eat.”
As usual, during dinner, we’re fixated on Ellie. But it’s different today. There’s stolen glances, smirks, winks, moments I forget to breathe because of how much I like this. How much I want this.
But even in my mind, I need to shift focus.
I love Ellie. I want the best for her. And I believe Dallas can give her that.
My stomach squeezes. My eyes mist as I realize what’s happening.
What I can’t let happen. Not now.
I can’t fall for Dallas Thorne.
No matter how easy he makes it. No matter how right this feels.
Dallas sets his fork down. “All right, let’s see what you painted in Rose’s class today.”
“It’s still drying by the door, I’ll get it.” Ellie races out.
Dallas and I start clearing the table when my phone rings again.
This time, he sees the screen. “Any reason you’re dodging your mother’s calls?”
I purse my lips. “Guessing she got the digital invite to the wedding.”
He frowns. “Those went out a few days ago.”
I flick my gaze to his. “Not hers.”
Understanding reaches his eyes. “I’m sorry, Willow. Look, if you want, we can take the call together after Ellie goes to bed. We don’t have to lie to her.”
I swallow, my heart plummeting a little, because this is still a lie.
“That’s sweet of you to offer but—”
“Offer? Willow, we’re in this together. You stood by me with my family and in front of half the town. However much you want to tell her, I’ll do it with you.”
I scoff because this is one conversation he doesn’t need to hear. “I’ll fill you in after.”
He gives me a soft nod, letting me know he’ll be here for me when I need him—however I need him.
Ellie returns with her dandelion painting.
I’d like to use my dandelion wish to avoid this phone call. Instead, I smile at them both and step out to the covered back porch, where my conversation with my mother can be muffled by the sound of the rain.
“Before you start, no, I’m not pregnant,” I tell her before she has a chance to greet me.
“Of course you’re not. You’ve been there three weeks, what do you take me for?”
I release a breath. “OK. So, you’re calling with your RSVP?” I hold my breath.
“I’m calling to tell you I’m proud of you.” Her tone too dry and flat to match the word.
“You are?” I ask warily, barely phrasing it as a question. For a second, I let myself believe she might be proud of my selfless act of kindness. Helping a good man—who has more than enough potential to be a good father—keep his daughter.
Then I remember who I’m talking to.
“Well, it’s pretty obvious, dear. You saw an opportunity to collect your inheritance early and took it. That’s my girl.”
“It’s not obvious, because it isn’t true,” I snap. “This is all for Ellie.”
“Is someone listening to our conversation?”
I sigh. “No.”
“Good. Then no need to fool me too. Sweetheart, this is brilliant. It’s a two-way deal. Why should he be the only one benefiting from this arrangement?”
“Mom, we’re talking about a custody battle for a man who didn’t even know he had a daughter until a few months ago.”
She releases an exasperated breath. “And I’m talking about you choosing to scramble for the next four years instead of taking charge now.”
“Mom—”
“I know you don’t realize this now, but life is short. Twenty-year-olds are making six, seven figures a year online while you’re wasting precious years being noble.”
My stomach gives a tight, aching squeeze. I hate how she finds ways to make sense.
A chill runs through me as I look over my shoulder at Dallas and Ellie. He can’t see me out here in the dark, but he looks over anyway, as if he can sense me. “You’re right. It would be . . . nice.” Especially when I’m on my own again. “I’ll think about it,” I whisper.
A pause. Then another sigh. “I’ll take it. And I’ll see you next week. Do you want me to bring anything? Family heirloom or something to really sell it?”
“Please don’t.”
Her voice grows distant as she ignores me. “I’ll have to see what I’ve got . . .”
“I’m going now. It’s cold out here.”
“Send me links to the best hotel in town.”
“There’s just the one inn here. But I think the ranch will be opening up their guest cabins for the wedding. I’ll see if I can get you one.”
“Sounds lovely.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “Keep me posted about the other thing. I’ll call the lawyer in the meantime . . . you know, just in case.”
“Don’t call anyone. Case closed.”
I step back into the house. The kitchen is clean and empty. I can’t think. I can’t even feel anything but that twist in my stomach. It feels a lot like betrayal.
A lie to my grandmother.
“She’s all tucked up and ready for her bedtime story,” Dallas calls as he comes back down the stairs, a grin on his face as he enters the kitchen. It fades quickly when he sees me. “Hey, what’s the matter? Your mother can’t make it?”
I shake my head. “No, no, she’ll be here.”
He backtracks as understanding hits. “She know about the . . . special arrangement?”
“That it’s temporary? Yes. She’s . . . happy about it in fact.”
He nods slowly. “Protective of you.”
I look off to the side. “More like my . . . future.”
“Willow?”
I meet his eyes. Tentative and heartbroken for even considering betraying my integrity.
He steps closer, holding my gaze. “What is it?”
I swallow.
He lifts my chin. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. And I’m respecting our deal to press pause on . . . this.” He looks at the space between us, then tucks my hair away. “But I’d be lying if I said you don’t look guilty as hell for something right now.”
“I promise, it’s nothing,” I whisper.
Nothing that affects you anyway.
“Just answer me this,” he starts, and I brace myself with a breath. “The marriage might be temporary, but . . . it isn’t fake. That piece of paper, the officiant . . . as real as any other.” He shifts on a pause. “Do you want out?”
I shake my head with a vigorous no.
He relaxes, but just barely, pinning me with those blue eyes. “When the pressure’s off and Ellie’s ours . . . think you might want in?”
Warmth spreads across my chest. I want all in.
He and Ellie are a package deal, I know that. But what about when the high is over? When he looks at me and remembers her. Especially in a home he designed based on what she wanted. When the pressure’s off—who’s to say he’ll need me?
And how do I tell him I’ve been burned so many times that I’m on autopilot, doubting everything.
I trust Dallas. It’s more like my curse I don’t trust.
My eyes mist and I nod slowly.
His lip quirks up and he cups my jaw, pressing his body against mine. “Then that’s good enough for me.”