Chapter 11 #3
Rattled, Gabi touched her cheek, her chest. She didn’t normally wear much makeup, but she’d forgotten her mascara, her most basic line of defense.
The cabin’s water had her hair looking like the stuck-a-finger-in-a-socket variety, and she was starting to worry the rash his stubble had left above her upper lip was permanent.
“It’s the shirt,” he whispered, shoving off the windowsill.
O-kay, that kinda made sense. Gabi plucked at the flannel with a smile. It was his, stolen without consent this morning after she climbed astride him on the couch and wrestled it off him.
He dragged a hand over his mouth and glanced toward the ceiling. Instead of coming to her, he paced the small space, keeping his distance.
“It’s just a shirt, Dallas.”
He shot her a look, his face positively thunderous. “Not on you, it isn’t.”
Gabi drew on her mom toolkit, waiting for him to tell her where his head was. Then she’d know how to help him—or whether she had any chance of changing his mind.
“I’m lonely at times,” he said, starting off with a bang. “My career—a lot of it—is solitude. Even when you’re not alone, you can feel lonely.” He stopped, side-eyed her, one brow lifted. “You know?”
“I was lonesome my entire married life,” Gabi said, leaning against the bedpost. “So I get the whole crowded-room thing.”
Also, there was the issue of letting someone in, which they’d begun to do. Not that she intended to bring that up while he had one foot out the cabin door and the other halfway to Cairo.
“Well, that makes me hate Theo-shitbag even more.” He started pacing again, his limp coming out with his frustration.
His jaw flexed in time to his steps. “It’s just, you were the last thing I expected.
Like, a good thing. A great thing. Fucking incredible.
But fast. Like seven orgasms later fast. Hell, maybe eight, if I count the couch-slash-shower run an hour ago.
My mind is just—” He opened both hands beside his head in a silent explosion.
She bit her lip to hide her smile. His honesty was, at times, excruciating.
“And then there’s Sam,” Dallas added, almost under his breath.
“Sam.” Gabi’s heart shrank. Everyone knew a single mother with a young child was not premium dating material. But she’d never thought it was a strike with him.
Something in her voice stopped him cold.
“No, Gab. Oh, no.” He crossed the room in two strides, caught her under the chin, lifting her gaze to his.
“That’s not what I meant.” His thumb moved once along her jaw, rough and careful at the same time.
Heat gathered in all the places he’d altered this weekend.
“Sam is why I can’t be careless. We can’t be careless. He’s important to me, too.”
Gabi stared at him, her throat tight, her heart doing something stupid and painful behind her ribs. “You don’t get to care about him and then leave me to explain where you went.”
He went still, the color draining from his face.
The words had come out sharper than she intended, and they weren’t fair, but she was running on fumes, her foolish heart deciding to go all in without consulting her brain.
Dallas glanced away first, his hand dropping as he took a stunned step back. “You’re right.”
That should’ve felt better. A decision. Acceptance.
“So we stop,” she said, forcing the words out before she lost her nerve.
“Whatever this was, a past infatuation, we’ve gotten it out of our systems. We don’t drag Sam into trying to make it more.
Finish your reading contest, the trips to the mill, that’s fine, but tell him when you’re leaving.
Don’t hide anything, except, I guess, this.
” She nodded, brisk, unable to stop herself from undoing what they’d created.
“Friends. Because we’re going to see each other in a town the size of Promise. Friends is good. The world needs more.”
He jerked the baseball cap down, hiding his eyes—ones she could read now.
They changed color with his mood. Dark green when he slid inside her, then a soft, sour apple hue after.
She’d seen confusion, delight, even fear shade them over the past two days, all manner of emotions running wild, a problem for a man who controlled his reactions. Hid them.
“Friends,” he finally agreed, sharp and tight, as if she’d offered him a blindfold and shoved him before a firing squad. Back to the Dallas made of stone. Impenetrable.
Gabi nodded, kept herself from holding out her hand. Touching him would have been a mistake, and a handshake after what they’d shared was ridiculous. Instead, she tightened her grip on the backpack strap. “It’ll be good to get back. This was…”
Amazing. Heartbreaking. Reckless. Fleeting. Once in a lifetime.
Dallas’s jaw tensed, annoyance flashing before he reached for her backpack. Thoughtful to the bitter, brooding end.
Exactly the problem. Or part of it, anyway.
This time, Gabi didn’t let him take it. She shifted it higher on her shoulder, stepped around him before he could commit another act of emotional vandalism disguised as manners, and walked away.