Fifteen
Dallas
“Why are you making breakfast? You can’t cook for shit,” Colt questions, strolling into the kitchen, clothing optional, apparently.
“Why are you only wearing boxers?” I snap back.
“Okay, Mr. Bossy, since when is that a problem?” His expression sharpens, and I watch from the corner of my eyes as he looks around the room, trying to figure out whatever he thinks he knows.
“Dallas?” he asks, clearly irritated that I haven’t responded.
His eyes light up like dollar signs, and I see the pieces connecting in his mind as he squeals.
Yes, Colson – a fully grown man – squeals. “Holy fuck, she’s here isn’t she!?”
“Keep your voice down,” I demand.
“Or what?”
I turn to continue scolding my brother, but I come up short, because the question didn’t come from Colt. No, standing next to him, in one of my old work shirts – buttons haphazardly done up – is Annabeth.
“Well, good morning to you too, Anna Banana,” Colt proudly announces. The self-satisfied smile on his face clearly amusing the two of them because they both instantly burst out into laughter.
Apparently these two have nicknames now? What the fuck?
“Oooh, Anna Banana. I like that one, Colsy-boy,” she taunts.
“You’re a pair of idiots,” I comment.
“What the hell is that smell?” Annabeth asks, though her gaze is locked directly on me.
“He’s cooking,” Colt offers before continuing, “It’s always a sad time for Hawks Hollow when fuckin’ Dallas decides to prepare a meal.”
“Oh, I know,” Annabeth replies. My gut does that thing where it dips like you’re flying down a hill on a skateboard, and I know immediately that Colt will know she’s been here before. I also know that I’m about to be raked across hot coals and I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Oh, you know, do you, A.B.?”
“That is Queen A.B. to you, Baby Northlane,” she quips.
“Baby? I’m older than you,” he protests.
I laugh at their bickering because I’ve copped his shit about being old for years and seeing my girl giving it back to him makes me feel oddly proud. Wait, my girl, did I just say that? I need to dial it down. Reel it back in, Dallas.
A cool palm curls across my waist, delicate fingers tapping gently along the line of fabric that rests against my hip bones.
I shudder, my body knows her touch already, and it feels heavenly.
It’s taking every ounce of restraint I have not to tell my brother to fuck off, switch off the stove, pick her up and lay her out on the breakfast bar like a buffet made just for me.
You know what? The minute Colt pisses off, that is exactly what I’m doing.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I glare at my brother from across the kitchen.
He scowls at me, waving his hand in a half-assed goodbye as he turns on his heels and heads outside.
I have no idea where he’s going, or what he’s up to, but I don’t care to ask.
If he wants to walk around in his underwear in broad daylight, who am I to stop him?
Annabeth giggles from behind me, her hands slowly getting more adventurous now that we’re alone. I flick off the stove, sliding the pan to a cool burner before turning around in her embrace.
“Mornin’, cowboy,” she teases, her green eyes dancing with lust and joy.
I glare at her. She’s clearly pleased with herself, and I can tell she’s enjoying making fun of me. I’m not used to having a woman in the house, let alone one who’s only wearing a work-shirt, or one that’s almost twenty years my junior. Fucks sake, what am I doing?
“Is it alright that I’m here?” she asks, an almost wounded expression washes over her.
I must have let my thoughts overrule my face, not considering how my inner moral compass would react to me over-thinking having her here, or whether or not it was even remotely appropriate to be sleeping with my daughter’s teacher.
“No. I mean, yes. Fuck. I’m sorry,” I stammer, but it’s pointless. She starts slowly unravelling her arms from me. I grip them, tighter than I mean to, and hold her steady. I’m already fucking this up, I know it. She can’t read my damn mind, and I’m being an asshole. “Don’t,” I murmur. “Please.”
Annabeth looks up at me. I release her arms, moving my hands towards her face to cup her cheeks in my palms. Her skin feels so delicate against my own rough exterior, like she’s a perfect piece of porcelain that could crack at any moment.
I vow then and there that I’ll do everything in my power to avoid that from happening.
“Dallas,” she whispers, her voice cracking slightly.
“I want you to be here. I don’t think I want you to leave my side if I’m honest. It’s just… unfamiliar is all. It would also be really great if you could finish breakfast before I give us both food poisoning,” I add with a wink.
She shakes her head at me, a slight smile creeping over her lips.
I pull her into my chest and hold her there, honestly wishing that I could hold her here in my arms, forever.
Her hair is all dishevelled from sleep, her makeup completely removed, exposing the sun-kissed trail of freckles that adorn her nose.
I press my lips to the top of her head, letting the kiss linger for a moment longer than necessary. This woman deserves everything, she deserves more than me. I’m a damaged mess of a man. My temples strain as my mind over-thinks every possible outcome of what this could be.
We share the silence as we hold each other.
Me twirling my fingers through her hair, our hearts beating in perfect synchronisation.
I decide at this exact moment that I want this to be more than whatever it is we’re doing.
I want this to be real. I also decide at this exact moment, that if I have any hope of holding onto this woman, I need to tell her about the one that haunts my past and my memories.
I need to tell Annabeth about Samantha.