Chapter ten #2
Leaning over the bar, his face comes within inches of mine. “Busy avoiding me?”
“No,” I lie.
The lift of his lips tells me he knows that. But then his face falls serious again, and he reaches out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.
God. Why is he touching me and why don’t I want him to stop?
“You don’t have to hide from me, Goose.”
“I—I wasn’t.”
“I’m not so sure about that. In fact, I feel like you hide an awful lot from the whole world.”
My stomach twists in knots. I feel like he can see right through me, see the scars I keep hidden on the inside, see the pain that is resting right underneath the surface—pain that was buried deep until I traveled to this little town and started thinking about all the “what ifs.”
“I told you. I was busy,” I manage to croak out.
“Busy doing what?”
“Working.”
“And…” he draws out, waiting for me to continue.
“Uh, and working, Dallas.”
He eyes me skeptically as he stands again. “You’re telling me that all you did this week was work?”
The way the words leave his lips makes me feel as if I have some infectious disease or something.
The truth of the matter is that I was actually bored out of my mind this week.
I only had three calls with Katrina, and my email inbox is going through the longest dry spell it’s ever had.
It might catch up to the dry spell my vagina has been experiencing as well.
In fact, I kept refreshing it, making sure I hadn’t missed something.
And I hadn’t. Katrina and my team are proving to be the well-oiled machine I know they are which means I was bored this week. There, I said it.
And if it weren’t for the painting, I might have actually gone a teensy bit insane.
“What do you do for fun then, Goose?”
Glaring at him from his use of the nickname he coined for me, I reply, “Uh, I work, Dallas.”
“Your front yard is the ocean. You’re in a town that has plenty to explore. Did you at least make it down to the boardwalk?” he asks.
“Uh, no.”
Shaking his head, he tsks. “That’s unacceptable, Goose. All work and no play is just going to make you cranky. And you can’t see everything Carrington Cove has to offer if you stay tucked away in that house.”
“I’m not cranky,” I argue, ready for a fight. At least when he riles me up, it makes me forget that he almost kissed me.
Is that what he’s doing? Trying to move past that moment because he thought it would be a mistake too?
He smirks at me. “That’s debatable. Well, tell me how the painting went at least.”
“It went well…I mean, as well as painting can go. I finished the downstairs bathroom, the master, and moved on to one of the other bedrooms. They’re empty, so it went pretty fast. But I swear, no matter what you do, the paint gets everywhere.”
“Like in your hair?” he asks, glancing to my hair that is still in my bun from work today. Suddenly, I’m reminded of his comment from the other day. “You never wear it down.”
“Yes.”
“I can see that.”
“What?”
I watch him slide my drink across the counter and then reach up to play with my hair, pulling a few strands of my bangs forward. “You still have some paint in your hair, Willow.”
Oh God. Bury me alive in this moment, please.
“What?” I whisper as he carefully scratches his short nails against my hair, flecks of gray paint falling to the bar like imaginary tears of my mortification.
Dallas chuckles as he slides his eyes to my face and then back to what he’s doing. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t that noticeable since your hair is light anyway. But I saw it the moment you sat down when the light overhead caught it.”
“You were going to let me sit here like that all night?” I ask as he pulls his hand away.
His brow furrows. “No. I did just remove it for you, didn’t I?”
Conflicted about his intent, I decide to focus on my drink instead, pulling the glass toward me and taking a large gulp. “Well, thanks, I guess.”
He leans over the bar, supporting his body on his forearms, his voice low as he says, “I know that was your attempt at manners, but the sarcasm under there was detectable.” He chuckles, wipes the paint from the bar, and walks away, leaving me embarrassed and no clearer about the status between the two of us.
From the moment we met, we’ve been frank with one another.
But now that frankness is laced with flirtation and something else—intrigue, maybe? The more we interact, the more I feel like Dallas is just as curious about me as I am about him—and the sexual tension is racing toward the point of erupting.
“Was Dallas playing with your hair?” Astrid comes up behind me, whispering in my ear as I spin on my stool to face her.
“No,” I huff. “He was getting paint out of my hair.”
Astrid snorts. “Oh God.”
Slapping my hand to my forehead, I say, “I know. It was mortifying.”
“But he touched you,” she argues. “And believe me, Dallas doesn’t touch women. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him pay attention to any woman. It’s been years.”
“I don’t want his attention.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Oh, Willow,” she tsks before patting me on the head. “Just keep telling yourself that.” And then she’s off, checking on her customers once more.
“You play darts?” A gravelly voice from my left has me spinning on my stool once more.
“Excuse me?”
“You play darts?” he asks again, completely serious. The man is older than dirt, dressed in a blue checkered flannel and dark blue ball cap with a Marine’s Veteran logo on it that looks eerily familiar, but his eyes and smile are sincere.
“Uh, not really.”
“Well, we need another player, and you look like you might be able to throw a few.”
“I do?”
“Yeah. There’s a fire in you, sweetheart, and a death glare. I’m sure you could narrow your eyes on the target real fast and hit the bullseye.”
“You think so?” I smirk, fighting with the pull I’m having toward this old man and genuinely enjoying his determination and conversation.
“I’m rarely wrong. And better yet, if you can’t, I’ll buy your drinks tonight.”
I twirl the toothpick that still has one olive around in my glass. “That’s a hard bargain to pass up.”
“Then you’ll play?” His entire forehead crinkles as he waits for my answer.
I’ve never played darts a day in my life, even during the handful of times I’ve gone out to bars, and that was back in college. Frankly, I can’t remember the last time I spent a Friday night in a bar having fun. But I’m here, I’m two drinks in, and it’s not like I have anything better to do.
When in Carrington Cove, right?
“I’ve never played, so this is your warning if I suck.”
“Like I said, I have a gut feeling about you. Let’s go.” He takes my hand, pulling me up from my chair and leading me over to the corner of the bar where the dartboards are set up. Two of his friends are waiting for him, nursing beers.
“I got our fourth,” he states proudly, putting his arm around me. If a strange man did that any other time, I’d be kneeing him in the junk, but I can tell he means no harm. “Little lady, this here is Thompson and Baron, and I’m Harold, by the way.”
“Willow, and it’s nice to meet you gentlemen.” I notice they’re all wearing the same hats with the same logo on the front. “I tried to tell Harold here that I’ve never played, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a pretty little thing, Willow, and Harold is a dirty old man.”
“Shut your pie hole,” Harold scolds his friend, Thompson, I think it is. “Willow, I am an utter gentleman, I assure you.”
“Sure,” the one who must be Baron adds.
“Well, how about we play some darts and we’ll see who the real man is after all?” I challenge, and they all smile in my direction.
I watch Baron collect the darts for our two teams, writing our names on the scoreboard.
But as I turn around to take another sip of my drink, I catch Dallas watching me from behind the bar, his scowl apparent even though there’s a considerable distance between us.
And my entire body heats up from his stare, like he’s keeping an eye on these men, making sure I’m okay.
When I turn around, I try to focus on the game and even do pretty well for my first time, all the while battling this feeling of contentment that makes the evening go by in a blur.
Before I know it, I’m three martinis deep and Harold and I have won two rounds of darts.
“Never played before, my ass,” Thompson grumbles as Harold and I celebrate our win with a hug.
“Beginner’s luck, I swear.” I hold up three fingers like a boy scout, giggling just as I feel an ominous presence come up behind me.
“Can I get you gentlemen a refill?” Dallas’s voice sends a shiver down my spine, followed by a trail of heat that could be the alcohol, but I’m beginning to doubt that since it happens every time he’s near.
“I think we’re done, Dallas. Goldilocks here hustled us,” Baron whines jokingly.
“Is that so?”
I hold my hands up defensively. “I swear, I’ve never played before. They don’t believe me.”
“I believe you,” he says, staring down into my eyes.
And that makes my hands drop. “Why?”
“Something tells me you’re not the type to play darts on a Friday night in a bar…am I right?”
As if he just took a pair of scissors to a balloon, Dallas bursts the bubble I’ve been swimming in for the past hour, reading me like an open book and I hate that he’s right.
“Well, she’s a natural,” Harold interjects, breaking the moment and squashing my inner turmoil for the moment.
“Good to know. You guys have a good night and I’ll see you at the center sometime this week,” he says, ushering me away like he’s my bodyguard.
“I wasn’t done playing.”
“Yes, you are,” he murmurs in my ear. “Come on. Let me get you a glass of water.”
Sulking, I huff but don’t argue as I follow him back to the bar where Astrid is grinning from ear to ear as she watches us.
Taking a seat on an empty stool, I roll my eyes and she hides her laugh. Dallas slides me a glass of water. “Thanks.”
“Looks like you were having fun,” Astrid says, standing across from me with her hands on her hips.
“I was.” My answer is so easy, and that makes me feel unsettled because it’s been so long since it felt natural to admit something like that.
I shouldn’t feel guilty for having fun. And part of me does, but part of me doesn’t. Part of me…really enjoyed myself tonight. “Then the ‘big bad bar owner’ had to come break it up.”
Astrid smiles and Dallas just glares in my direction. “Those old men were leaving anyway.”
“Still…”
“Harold, Baron, and Thompson are the sweetest.” Astrid leans forward on the bar. I notice the restaurant has emptied out a bit, so I glance at the clock and realize it’s after ten already.
“They were very nice.” And it felt good to have genuine company for the evening. Most of my evenings at home are spent alone. Hell, I don’t even have a pet to go home to after work. And I thought that’s the life that suited me, but after a few weeks here, I’m discovering new possibilities.
“Are you ready to go?” Astrid stands up straight again. “I’m almost off and I can give you a ride home.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Dallas interjects. “You’ve had three martinis. You’re not driving.”
“You’re not my keeper,” I fire back at him, aiming my lingering frustration on the man that has caused it.
“No, but I am the owner of this place and I have a responsibility. I can’t let anyone take a risk like that. Let Astrid drive you home, and you can come get your car tomorrow.”
“But…”
“It will be fine here, Willow. Nothing happens here in Carrington Cove.”
Yeah, nothing but inheriting a house you didn’t want, becoming addicted to delicious blueberry muffins, and salivating over the broody bar owner that is everywhere I go.
With a harsh exhale, I relent. I already planned to get a ride from Tommy—of Tommy’s Taxi and Tours—anyway. But I hate that it feels more like Dallas just trying to boss me around and exude his authority.
It’d be okay if he bossed you around in bed though, right?
“Yeah, I think I’m done for the night.” My brain is obviously being affected by the alcohol as images of Dallas handcuffing me to my bed flash behind my eyelids.
Jesus, get me out of here before I surrender to him in front of all these people.
“Perfect. Let me finish up a few things and then we’ll get going.” Astrid strides away, leaving me alone with Dallas once more.
“How are the geese?” he asks, which confuses me at first. Then my mind catches up.
“Oh, well, I think they’re starting to like the scarecrow. They ventured up on the deck again yesterday.”
“You might need more repellent.”
“Or a scarecrow with your face on it like I suggested in the first place. You seem to be keen on scaring people away. I’d still be playing darts and having fun if it weren’t for you.”
Dallas comes around the bar, standing so close to me that I have to crane my neck back to look up at him from my seat. But then he lowers his voice, dips his head down, and grates out, “I’m just looking out for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that. I’m a big girl, and I can handle myself just fine. And honestly, Dallas…those men are old and just looking to play darts. You can’t possibly be jealous? Can you?” I tease as a hiccup leaves my lips.
His eyes get even more narrow. “I’m not jealous.”
“Could have fooled me.”
We stare at each other as I continue to wonder why he had a problem with me hanging out with those men.
Was it because I was having fun? Was it because I was hanging out with men old enough to be my grandfather?
Or was it because I am in his bar, his town, and the house that he wants, and he doesn’t want me here?
“I’m ready,” Astrid says behind me, breaking our stare and the whiplash I’m experiencing every time I’m around this man.
Just the other day I thought he was going to kiss me. And then tonight, he looks like he’s about to kidnap me and lock me up in his basement.
“Yeah. Me too.” I stand up so my chest brushes against Dallas’s, who quickly steps back, suddenly aware that there are people all around us potentially watching our exchange.
“Get her home safe, Astrid.” He turns away from me, not bothering to glance in my direction again as he pushes through the door that leads to the kitchen and disappears.
“Oh boy…” Astrid clicks her tongue once we leave the restaurant and arrive at her car. After situating ourselves, she pulls out of the parking lot and heads for my house. “Did you say something to rile him up?”
“Nope. I played darts with three old men. Apparently that was enough of an offense.”
Astrid laughs. “God, I can’t wait until this blows up.”
“Nothing is going to blow up.”
“Uh, yes it is. There’s a storm brewing, Willow. And you’d better be prepared because I have a feeling you’ve never dealt with a man like Dallas before.”
Why do her words give me a thrill like it’s a challenge rather than a warning? A warning I shouldn’t ignore but, truthfully, deep down I hope to meet head-on.