15. Dallas
DALLAS
ONE MONTH LATER
Sometimes, when he smiles, I remember why I fell in love with Matt in the first place.
His smile feels like looking at all the stars without needing a telescope. It’s electrifying.
Then he opens his mouth, and the illusion is shattered.
“You’re pathetic for still living here. If you can’t make it on your own as a single mom, you should move back in with me. I have room. You could stay in the second bedroom.”
I sigh, rubbing my eyes with my hand. “I’m paying rent now actually. Eden is watching the boys while I work. It’s so much easier with the late hours I have at the bar. This place is like a fortress. They close the gate every night.”
Keeping me safe from you.
On Christmas morning, I finally found out how he was secretly tracking my location through my email address. I didn’t even know that was possible until I found the hidden application on my phone.
Thankfully, I got the boys this Christmas, but I’m already dreading next year when it’s his turn.
He rolls his eyes and throws one of the boy’s hoodies at me. “Boys, say goodbye to Dad. I won’t see you for a week.”
Dutton completely ignores him, already playing on the floor with blocks. Dawson lifts a hand to wave from the kitchen, where Eden is getting him a banana.
I try to close the door on Matt, but he won’t budge.
“I bought concert tickets.”
I purse my lips, nodding. “Cool. Have fun.”
“For both of us.”
“No, thanks.”
“You’ve proven your point, okay? I get that I was a jerk sometimes. I’ve really changed. I’ve been taking the boys to church.”
The urge to roll my eyes and slam the door in his face is so strong that I have to shove my hands into my denim pockets.
I stare at the pothos plant I managed to save from the apartment fire.
By some miracle, it lived, but a few leaves turned brown and fell off.
I’m still waiting for the new ones to sprout.
My voice is robotic. “That’s amazing. I’m glad to hear it.”
“You should come with us. I think everyone would forgive you.”
I grind my molars together, staring at him and trying to think of all the reasons I don’t want to go to prison for murder.
The boys need me.
I look terrible in orange.
I bet the coffee sucks.
No wine in prison.
“If I want to go to church, I will do it on my own time, thanks.”
He shakes his head, like he’s a disappointed father talking to a wayward child. “All right, girl, call me if you need anything.”
Girl?
I finally slam the door shut and dead-bolt it. When I turn around, Eden is watching me with one hand on her belly.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, sitting down on the floor with Dutton. He moves into my lap. He smells faintly of cigarette smoke, and I wonder if Matt is smoking around the boys. I can’t let myself think about all that happens when the twins are not with me.
“I’m fine. Bummed that I have to work tonight.”
She sits down on the couch. Dawson comes over and knocks over the tower Dutton built, starting an argument. They’re both tired, clearly. I doubt they’ve had a nap or adhered to a decent bedtime in the last few days.
“I’m sorry. I think they both need sleep. I’ll lay them down in your bed, and you can snuggle them when you get home.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
She smiles softly. Eden has been a godsend.
I look down to see my phone is ringing, and my ex-mother-in-law’s name is on the screen. My stomach is tight as I answer it.
“Hey, Sandy.” I stand up, pacing the kitchen.
“Hello, Dallas! I was just calling to check in. I heard you and Matt had a little spat. I know he has a temper at times. I hope you’re okay.”
I close my eyes, sighing. I’m glad she isn’t blaming me completely, but it feels like she’s blind to her son’s toxic behavior.
“He’s—he keeps trying to convince me to get back together with him. I’m not interested. I just want to learn how to co-parent peacefully.”
“Ah, yes, I completely understand. He’s having such a hard time accepting the divorce. I think he misses you and the boys. I know we do! Maybe if he could see them more often, it would be easier. I could pick them up just while you’re busy working or something. Would that be okay with you?”
I sigh, looking over at the twins. I don’t want to give up any of my time with them since I’ve always been a stay-at-home mom and it’s what they’re used to. But if Sandy wants to babysit while I’m at work, I trust her. I feel confident she would take better care of them than her son does.
“I guess that would be okay. Just while I’m working.”
“Wonderful! I have so many fun plans. I promised them we’d go to Disney!”
The row of ten tequila shot glasses is lined up perfectly as I run the bottle over it, filling them to the brim for the bachelorette party. I add a lime to each rim.
“Okay, ladies, here you go! Bottoms up!” I plaster the best work smile I have on my face, like seeing the cute little brunette bride-to-be with the veil on her head doesn’t make me want to pull her aside and ask her if her fiancé has ever called her colorful names or threatened to choke her out.
Not all men. They’re not all like that.
She bounces over to me, along with nine pink-clad bridesmaids. They resemble a swarm of pink flamingos. They each grab a shot glass, clink them in a chaotic toast, and tip them over their lips before raising the empty glasses in the air and cheering.
Half the bar looks over, male gazes leering as they try to determine who’s drunk enough to approach.
Being a bartender isn’t my favorite job, but it’s definitely one of the best people-watching gigs.
When I was in my early twenties, going out, I was always drinking and unaware of what other people were up to.
Now that I’m watching from the safety of the bar top and I’m fully sober, it’s like a new reality show every night.
Fights between couples, men trying to get lucky, girls sworn off love or celebrating their upcoming nuptials—it never gets old.
“I want to save a horse and ride a cowboy!” one of the bridesmaids shouts.
A man in a black cowboy hat pulled low over his face ambles into my line of sight, his button-down denim shirt halfway undone. My throat tightens when I recognize the broad shoulders and the double-R brand on his chest.
Duke walks up to the bar to my right, where my coworker, Harper, is serving patrons. She has bright red hair and huge boobs spilling out of her tank top.
“Hey, sugar. What can I get you?”
“Whiskey—Four Roses—neat,” he says without looking up.
The bridesmaids are intrigued, three of them glancing at each other before adjusting their skimpy pink dresses and making their way over to him.
I busy myself wiping off the counter in front of me with a damp rag.
My hair is in two French braids tonight, and I’m wearing my typical low-cut tank with Daisy Dukes and cowboy boots.
I haven’t spoken to Duke since he fingered me in his bed and I had a full-blown panic attack. I guess sex is triggering for me, which was a super fun thing to find out mid-hookup.
This is the first time I’ve seen Duke outside of the ranch since his father’s funeral.
A man approaches my bar, leaning up against it. He has some gray sprinkled in his beard, and his brown eyes stay at a respectable level, focused on my face.
“Hey, can I get a beer? Miller, on tap.” He smiles kindly.
I nod, grabbing a clean mug.
“Just keep the tab open.” He slides his black Amex across the bar with his ring-free left hand.
“How’s your night going?”
Being chatty, especially with a slightly older man who’s out drinking alone and paying with a card like that, is how I make most of my tips.
“Can’t complain. This place is busy.”
“Yeah, it’s poppin’ most Fridays.” I slide the mug over with a smile.
In my peripheral vision, I see the three pink flamingos swarming Duke. I wonder if he can even tell them apart.
This was the reminder I needed that the night I spent in his bed was a waste of my time and emotional energy. He’s still the playboy he’s always been, and I’m still very much only interested in someone older, more mature, and stable.
Like the gentleman I’m serving right now.
Still, my stomach twists at the sound of feminine giggles to my right.
“So, you work most Fridays then?” he asks.
I nod, busying myself with filling drink orders from the machine printing them out. The waitresses wandering around send them over, and at the end of the night, they have to split tips with us.
“Yeah, I work every Friday. Are you new in town?”
“I’m here on business. Actually, I’m staying about two hours west of here on an oil rig. I just needed a change of scenery.”
An oil man. My interest is piqued. I don’t have any desire to get married again, but if I did, I would definitely only be to a man who has a successful, established career. Marrying for love was a onetime mistake I won’t be repeating.
“Wow, that’s quite a drive for a beer.”
“It was worth it,” he says with a wink.
I laugh, probably a little too loudly. The black cowboy hat to the right of us turns in our direction. The smile stays on my lips as the man leans into me.
“What’s your name?”
“Dallas.”
He whistles. “You seem like trouble, Dallas.”
“And yours?”
“Scott.”
He extends a hand, and I shake it, offering him my brightest smile.
The cowboy hat to the right moves closer to us, and Duke plants himself on the stool next to Scott. I grab the tequila bottle and start shaking up a margarita, ignoring Duke until after I’ve poured the drink, garnished it, and set it on the bar for the waitress to pick up.
Finally, I turn to look up at him. I hate that I notice him being six inches taller than Scott, even sitting down.
He’s wearing that damn smirk again too.
“Hey, darlin’, can I get a beer?”
My spine tingles with awareness.
The bridesmaids are trailing behind him like a mother duck with her hens. I grab a clean mug and start filling it with whatever beer on tap is closest to me. His eyes are sparkling with mischief as I slide it over the countertop.
“Thank ya.” And he fucking winks.
I stare back at him, trying to decide if he wants to destroy my chance at getting asked out on a date, which is definitely close to happening.
Scott clears his throat, glancing from Duke to me. I jolt out of the staring contest, smiling at Scott.
“Another one?”
He nods. “Sure. You live around here?”
“I live in La Pradera.”
Duke opens his mouth to speak.
Don’t you fucking dare.
“She lives with me.”
I gape at him, cheeks flushing. “No, I—”
“Well, not with me, exactly. We’re neighbors.”
Scott looks at him, nodding awkwardly. “I see.”
Duke extends a hand. “Duke Redford.”
Scott shakes it. “Scott Perin. So, you two know each other?”
Duke grins. “Yes, sir, I know Dallas very well.”
Thankfully, one of the bridesmaids steps up on the other side of Duke to order a drink, interrupting the fantasy I was having of launching the tequila bottle at his head.
“Can we get four lemon drop shots?” she asks, bumping into Duke.
“Sure.” I grab four clean shot glasses.
“Are you two …” Scott’s voice trails off.
“Are we what?” Duke says.
I roll my eyes.
“Are you an item?”
“Oh, ha. No, we’re just friends. Really good friends.”
Oh, is that what we are?
I take out my rage on the shaker again.
“So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked her on a date then?”
Duke grabs his shoulder. “Scott, there is nothing I’d love more than to see Dallas happy.” He says it like it’s a threat, his words clipped.
“Four lemon drops!” I shout.
The bridesmaid bounces over. She takes her time grabbing the shots, letting her side press up to Duke. He smiles down at her, and I have no idea why I feel it like a knife in the pit of my stomach.
“In that case, Dallas, would you go out on a date with me?” Scott smiles.
I lean forward between the two men. “I would love to.”
Duke grabs his beer and chugs the entire thing before slamming it down on the bar.