Chapter fourteen Willow
Chapter fourteen
Willow
Before I can respond, he tears open the door that I stupidly had unlocked, pushing me aside prior to slamming it shut and locking it like I should have.
“What the hell are you doing, Dallas? This is breaking and entering!” I shriek as his broad frame towers over me, drenched from head to toe.
He narrows his gaze at me before closing the distance between us, worry and frustration wafting off him.
“I’m making sure you’re safe, Willow. Because if something were to happen to you, and I fucking walked away, I would never forgive myself.
” He points a finger at his chest. “I’ve lost too many people in my life because of shitty circumstances and instances where there was nothing I could do. But this? This I can protect you from.”
Rearing back, I’m caught off guard by the command in his voice and the clear worry in his eyes. But something tells me that pushing him away would only make him react more, so instead, I relent, even though my stomach is in knots just being in the same room as him again.
“Okay. Fine.”
His jaw clenches like he was ready for a fight. “Wow. What a relief to see you can be reasonable.”
“I’m fucking terrified right now. And even though you’re the last person I wanted to see, I guess it’s better than being left alone in this chaos.”
He huffs, wiping water from his face. And at that moment, I take the opportunity to really take him in.
His dark hair is plastered to his forehead, drenched from the rain, dripping water all over his face and the floor. His signature black shirt and jeans are soaked as well, and his boots are squeaking as he takes steps toward the counter to drop off the bag of supplies he brought with him.
He came over with supplies.
For me.
He wanted to make sure I was safe.
This is exactly why resisting him has been such a feat. But after what I learned Saturday night, my reasons for staying away have multiplied exponentially. I guess the weather had other plans to make avoiding him even more difficult, though.
“Could you throw these in the dryer while we still have power, please?” he asks, yanking his jacket and shirt over his head in one smooth motion before I can respond.
And holy hell.
The man standing before me is rippled with muscle and sinew that I want nothing more than to paint with my tongue.
His tan skin is glistening from his rain-soaked clothes, and then he turns to me, arching a brow as I stand there, shell-shocked, his hand outstretched with his clothes, waiting for me to speak.
But all I can do is stare at the water droplets cascading down his chest, rolling over his nipple that I have an alarmingly strong urge to bite.
“Willow?”
“What?” I blink, clear my throat, and then rip the clothes from his hand. “Sure. Fine,” I say as I walk away, trying to keep my dignity intact.
“You can come back and stare a bit more, if you want. I won’t judge.”
His self-induced laughter makes my blood boil again as I go down the short hallway off the kitchen to the laundry room, tossing his clothes in the dryer and turning it on, huffing out my frustration in solitude for a moment.
“Jackass,” I mutter to myself.
“I heard that.” Or, so I thought.
As if he appeared out of thin air, I spin to find Dallas blocking the doorway, watching me intently as I jump.
“Ugh. Are you just going to follow me around all night?”
“No. But I do need your help loading batteries into the flashlights, setting up candles, and putting away the food.”
“Sure. Just give me a minute, okay?”
He rolls his eyes and leaves the doorway, somehow making it easier for me to breathe again. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
I walk back out to the main part of the house, trying not to stare too hard at his back, but when he turns to face me again with the packages of batteries, that’s when I notice a detail about him I must have been too blind with rage and lust to detect sooner.
An anchor tattoo rests right over his left pec, etched in black and blue ink. There’s an inscription on a banner across the symbol, but I can’t quite make it out.
My eyes instantly veer over to the refrigerator magnet that Penn gave me my first week here, and somehow, the connection makes me smile.
“Are you going to help me or just continue to stare at me?”
Flicking my eyes up at him, I tear the package of batteries from his hands and take residence on the other side of the kitchen counter just as a loud crack of thunder booms above us, making me jump. “Jesus!”
Dallas looks outside before our phones start blaring with a high wind warning. “We should hurry. And then we need to go in your downstairs closet and take shelter.”
“Why?”
“In case windows shatter or anything falls on the house. You’re safer in an enclosed space.”
“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I whisper to myself.
We keep filling the three flashlights, small electric candles, and then I look at the food Dallas brought with him.
“I have some leftover sandwich stuff from the restaurant, so we need to eat those right away. Otherwise, I brought chips, beef jerky, protein bars, some apples and bananas, and of course, candy and bottled water.”
“Why candy?”
His eyes narrow on me beneath his dark lashes. “I have a sweet tooth, and maybe some sugar will sweeten you up too.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Ha. Very funny.”
Another loud crack booms overhead. “Shit. I hate this.” I can see my hands trembling in front of me as I grab the bag of food and take it to the closet.
“I’m right behind you. Do you have any extra blankets or pillows? Or even towels?”
“They’re all in there. I don’t have much, but we’ll make do.”
He juts his head in that direction. “Go inside. I’ll be right there.”
The entire house creaks from the wind as I scurry along the floor, reaching the closet and ducking inside the small door to go under the staircase.
I set the food to the side on one of the shelves and then turn and find the blankets, unfolding them, as well as grabbing two spare pillows and covering them in cases, making the floor more comfortable.
I’m lost in the task as Dallas steps in behind me, getting a full access view of me bending over in front of him.
Peering up at him between my legs, I say, “It’s not polite to stare.”
“I’m only returning the favor,” he says with a smirk before I stand up and spin to face him. But I must have misjudged how much blood went to my head because I topple over, headed to smack my face on the shelving to my left.
However, Dallas catches me before I make contact. “Fuck. Are you okay?”
Holding my upper arms, he keeps me steady as I stare up at him, getting lost in his stormy brown eyes.
“Yes, I—I’m okay. Thanks.”
He releases me hesitantly and I blow out a breath, turning around again to gather myself while cursing this storm and where it’s landed me.
This is bad.
But he smells so good.
Jesus, shut up, Willow!
I take a seat at the head of the seating area I made and grab the food from the shelf, gesturing for him to take a seat right next to me.
“Uh, I’m still wet.” He points down to his jeans.
“Oh. Well, I don’t have anything that would fit you, so...”
He chuckles, and the sound instantly calms me a bit. His rare laugh is something I didn’t know I needed in this moment. “I didn’t think so.”
“You could grab a towel from the bathroom next door if you want.”
“Yeah, I think I will. I’ll be right back.”
Waiting for him to return, I sigh as I open the containers of food. The sandwiches are packed with turkey, bacon, lettuce, tomato, and mayo—a perfect club sandwich that I remember eating the other night and devouring, along with fries and onion rings.
“I knew I made the right call bringing the club.”
Staring up at him as his voice alerts me to his return, I watch him run the towel through his hair, taking the moisture out of it before tossing it aside and placing the other one right next to me, situating it under himself as he sits.
“That was…” I look over at him, finally at a loss for words. “Thank you.”
“I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Willow,” he says in a low voice, just above a whisper.
“You don’t?” I sound comically shocked, his unexpected admission throwing me off.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you Saturday night before you ran off.” His words make the air around us shift.
Oh.
Oh.
Regret fills me as I look into his eyes and see the heated intensity I’ve noticed before.
Before Saturday, I was ready to stop fighting him too. I was ready to give into this attraction and physical need I feel every time he’s near.
But then I discovered that explosive secret, the unlit stick of dynamite that will inevitably blow up both of our lives, especially after my unexpected visitor the other night.
Now I’m torn. Should I light the fuse while I can still try to contain the flames? Or do I foolishly explore this fire between us, hoping to stamp it out before anyone gets burned?
“I’m sorry.” Staring down at my lap again, I pick up a piece of the sandwich and begin eating, trying to keep my mouth busy so I don’t say something else I’ll regret since that seems to be the norm around him.
Why is it that this man makes me feel unsteady, unsure of who I am and how I’ve been for so many years?
Maybe I was never sure of who I was in the first place.
“And I’m sorry.” He blows out a breath before reaching for a piece of the sandwich as well. “You make me a little irrational, but I meant what I said in the park. I’m trying to get you to see that I’m more than just the asshole who wants your house.”
I finish chewing and then reach for a bottle of water, twisting off the top as the storm picks up outside, rattling the walls. “My life would be so much simpler if I didn’t inherit this house, Dallas, believe me. If I hadn’t…”