Chapter 16
CAN YOU SHOW ME?
Poppy
I’ve been braiding hair since I was little, whether it was mine or Lily’s. However, sitting next to Dallas and teaching him how to braid his daughter’s hair is making me forget every single step.
I want to be so pissed at Lily for pulling this stunt and not driving me home. Not too long ago, she did the same thing with Blair when she asked Griffin to drive her home since he also lived next door to her. Her mission was to successfully bring them closer.
I knew that was her motive.
And it worked.
I’m in Dallas’s house.
I read Sage a bedtime story, and now I’m sitting here braiding hair.
Disrupting my nighttime routine should stress me out at the moment, but strangely, it doesn’t.
I feel calm around Dallas, despite how my body reacts around him.
His touch is gentle and soft, yet it sends shivers down my spine.
His voice is reassuring, yet hot. With every smile, laugh, or touch, my stomach flips, making my breath catch in my throat, leaving me unable to form sentences.
There’s so much I want to say to keep him at arm’s length.
I’ve never felt a pull to open up to a man before, but it makes me want to lay it all out there. Let him decide if getting involved with me and my overthinking brain would even be worth it to him.
I release a breath and take a seat next to him. He now sits behind Sage with her hair in his hands.
“Like I mentioned, you’re going to divide the hair into three sections. Then you cross one of the outside sections over the middle.”
“Like this?” he asks as he does it.
“Yep. Now that’s your new middle. Then you’ll cross the opposite outside section over your new middle.”
“Criss-cross-applesauce,” Sage singsongs.
He smiles at her as he tries to do it, but loses his grip on a section.
I reach over his forearms to hold the piece.
With my eyes fixed on the back of Sage’s head, I can sense the shift in Dallas’s gaze.
He’s no longer looking down; all his attention is on my face.
I don’t need to turn my head to know; my body can feel it.
“Can you show me?” Dallas says. “Like, guide my hands where they need to? Because this is where I always screw it up.”
Lifting my head to look him in the eyes, I’m stunned silent when I realize he’s mere inches from my face.
I can feel his breath on my skin. His eyes dip down to my lips as my mouth parts, ready to say something, anything.
His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, and that does it.
A strange and new sensation floats to the sensitive spot between my legs.
What kind of power does Dallas Westbrook possess that he can make me feel this way with just one look?
“Yeah.” I swallow. “I can show you.”
He tips his head over my shoulder, grazing the shell of my ear. “Thank you,” he whispers, even though we haven’t even so much as formed a braid in Sage’s hair yet.
With his large hands under my small ones, I don’t say anything as I guide them where they need to go.
One section over the other, before grabbing the other section and putting it over that one, repeating the pattern under a loose braid that forms in her hair.
It’s not the best, but it’s also not the worst I’ve seen for someone’s first time doing it.
Taking my hands away, my body already misses the heat of his skin. “Then, when you reach the bottom of the braid, you take the hair tie and secure it at the bottom.”
“And that’s it?”
I nod. “Yep. You did it.”
“He did it?” Sage reaches behind her, blindly feeling the braid in the back of her head. “It’s perfection!” Dallas grins down at Sage as she stands, putting herself between his legs and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “I love it so, so much. And I love you, Daddy.”
I watch intently at this intimate moment between them. Dallas’s arms visibly tighten around Sage with her words as if they were words he’d wanted to hear her whole life.
“Okay. Now it’s time for bed, Sage.”
Sage holds up a pointer finger. “Wait, one more thing,” she says, before shuffling around the little drawing table on her desk.
I chuckle, and Dallas gives me a playful side eye. We both know this is how it goes with kids. They’ll do anything to put off going to bed.
Sage lifts a few papers in her hand, organizing them just right as she stops in front of me.
Lifting them, she hands them over to me.
“These are for you. I wanted to draw stuff about baseball so you can learn and love it as much as I do. Since we love puzzles so much, we can now love baseball together.”
Together.
With each word out of her mouth, whether now or in the classroom, I fall for this little girl more and more.
She spent her time coloring me these pictures and sharing her favorite things with me.
I can’t help but swallow, fighting back the emotions because I know my students love me.
They all express it in different ways. While many of them share their life outside of school with me, never has a student done something like this.
Little things like this mean the world to me.
“Thank you, Sage.” My words barely above a whisper. “I still have that puzzle for you and will bring it over later this week. If it’s okay with your dad.”
Dallas nods.
“That would be so epic.” Sage smiles from ear to ear.
“I’m going to read through them when I get home. I’m so excited to learn about baseball.”
She frowns. “What about your puzzle?”
“I’ll read through these after I do some of that. How’s that sound?”
“I love it.”
“Now off to bed, bug,” Dallas says.
Sage jogs into bed, diving under the covers and bringing them all the way up until they are tucked right under her neck.
Lying on her side, she nestles into the pillow.
I’m standing in the doorway, feeling like I should leave.
This moment is very personal to them, and I’m staring because I can’t tear my gaze away.
He tucks the blankets under her legs on both sides, as if to make it snug as a bug.
Then he brushes the few loose strands of hair from her braid out of her face.
They stare at each other for a beat before he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead.
My heart melts.
“I love you,” he whispers to her.
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
As soon as Dallas turns to leave her room, his eyes find mine, and I quickly turn around as if I’ve been caught staring. The last thing I want is him thinking I’m a creep for not leaving for their moment together.
My body jumps slightly when I feel his hand on the small of my back, though, guiding me out of her room and into the hallway.
He doesn’t remove it until we’re in his living room.
The contact burns my skin right through my shirt, and I want him to keep it there.
I want to feel his hands all over every part of me if it makes me feel like that again.
He removes his hand, and I stop, scanning the space when I notice a small puzzle being worked on at the kitchen table. He doesn’t follow me as I make my way to it, running my fingers over it and smiling.
“I meant it when I told her I would bring over a puzzle for her, as long as it’s okay with you.” I turn to face him, and he’s standing where I left him, keeping a safe distance. I can’t tell if it’s for himself or me. “We can…uh…figure out a time for me to drop it off.”
“You want to come back over again?” He smirks.
I shrug, as if he doesn’t have a pull on me. As if he hasn’t tilted my universe in his direction. “For the puzzle.”
“For the puzzle,” he repeats. “Only to bring it over, right?”
The energy in the room builds with every passing second. Want. Need. Desire. A burning flame in my gut that says I can do this, that I want to do this. That it’s okay to want this.
“Dallas,” I breathe out, breaking the silence.
He takes two quick steps toward me, hands cupping both sides of my face, forcing me to look up at him. And when I do, my heart begins to hammer loudly in my chest. With eyes boring into mine, I practically melt.
He must see the effect he has on me written all over my face, and his features soften, and that signature smile stretches across his face.
Is he going to kiss me?
He’s so close.
Do I want him to kiss me?
Standing here, with his hands on my face, being this close to me—yes.
He opens his mouth to say something, but pauses. Eyes searching mine as if he’s looking for something, anything. I don’t know what’s going through his head right now, but everything in me feels tingly and on edge. The good kind of on edge. A feeling I want to keep feeling.
“Poppy,” he says, in a whispered plea I feel against my lips.
He’s so close. God, he’s so close.
“Yes?”
His eyes fall closed at the same time he releases the hold on my face, taking a step back. I instantly miss the closeness and warmth radiating off of him. The cold creeps in, and I fight back the shiver that runs through me from the loss of contact.
I’ve never wanted anything like this before.
I’ve never craved a man’s touch.
“It’s my turn to say I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, averting his gaze. “You made it very clear that you want things to remain professional, and I’m crossing every line here.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the words don’t come out.
Fear races through me because this is the exact thing I’ve been afraid of with getting into any form of relationship. It’s a crippling feeling to think one thing, but feel another. To believe that the man standing before me could want me, but to instantly feel like I’ll never be good enough.
Did I do something wrong?
Maybe I shouldn’t have come inside and read Sage a book, then proceeded to teach him how to braid his daughter’s hair.
I should have gone home.
“I’m going to go,” I finally say, barely able to get the words out as I hike a thumb over my shoulder and beeline for the front door.
He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets.
And without another passing glance, I walk out of his house.