29. Duke
DUKE
Ileft Jensen parked outside of Matt’s house so I could check in on Dallas while she was at work. I’m having trouble staying away from her. But if I have to watch her get hit on one more time, I might talk myself into leaving.
I can’t focus on anything except her while I’m dancing. I’m half-heartedly practicing for the spring showdown, which seems to matter less and less the closer it gets.
I’m switching up partners, debating who I should ask to compete with me if I still can’t convince Dallas.
I have to build up the courage to ask her first.
Instead of going to her bar to get a drink, I stay on the far side, near the corner, where I can observe her. She’s chatting with patrons easily, but I can see, even from here, that she’s barely holding it together.
And a few nights ago, when I helped her with the boys while they were sick, she was acting odd. Looking at me like she wasn’t sure if she could trust me. And I didn’t like it—at all.
She doesn’t know I’m having Matt watched. I thought about telling her, but I wasn’t sure how to phrase it.
Hey, your baby daddy is a prick, and I think we should keep tabs on him. If he does anything crazy, we can put a bullet in his head and bury him on the side of the road. You cool with that?
I tap on my phone to text Jensen.
Duke
Update?
Jensen
No change.
I pocket the phone and ask another random girl to dance. It’s a swing dance, so I’m spinning her around when I notice Dallas watching from outside her bar.
I catch a glance of the look on her face and immediately push away from Madi, my dance partner.
“Hey!” she calls out.
I ignore her, chasing after Dallas. She gets through the hallway and almost to the back door before I catch up to her. I grab her hand, pulling her back to me. She thuds into my chest.
“Hey.”
She peers up at me with her sad, tear-filled eyes.
“What?”
“Where are you running off to?”
“Break.”
Maybe she wasn’t watching me. Maybe I imagined it.
“Dance with me?”
She shakes her head. “I’m at work.”
“Just one song.”
I hate that I’m begging, but I need to be touching her like I need air. I can see her debating, so I take a risk to try and win her over. I bend down, whispering in her ear, just close enough that I know she’ll feel the warm tingle from my breath.
“Just as friends, Mamas.”
She leans into me, and I can’t tell if it’s intentional or involuntary. Finally, she nods, interlaces her fingers with mine, and smiles.
“Waitin’ on You to Wear Off” is pouring through the speakers when we get back out on the dance floor.
I take the opportunity to pull Dallas close, pressing the side of my face up to hers.
Our bodies are flush together, my hand wrapped around her lower back.
The other one is still interlaced with hers.
She grabs the back of my belt and lets me hold her as we sway with the music.
Holding her like this makes it impossible for me not to wish we could be more, that I could convince her I was worth it. I want to be there for her as more than just a friend. I want her to know she can lean on me through all her struggles.
My heart feels like it’s swollen inside my chest when the song finally ends and she pulls back. Her eyes are red-rimmed.
“I need to get back to work,” she says.
I nod. “Okay.”
“Thanks for the dance.”
She turns and starts walking back to the bar, but I don’t let go of her hand. She sighs, turning to face me as couples around us start dancing to the next song.
“What?”
“Go for a ride with me tomorrow?”
She raises a brow. “Why?”
“Because I want you to.”
I can tell she wants to say yes. I rub my thumb in a tiny circle over her skin. I smirk at her attempt to say no.
“Come on, darlin’. You know you want to.”
She rolls her eyes, but a tiny smirk pulls at her lips. “Come get me in the morning when you’re ready to go.”
I let her go and watch her until she disappears in the crowd.
“Sheriff says they’re doing an autopsy on the body to test the teeth and get an ID.” Holden’s face is grim.
I can tell he’s worried about this, which in turn makes me worried. Holden is usually the one saying we’ll figure it out.
“There’s still time for that body to disappear out of the morgue.” Cash’s voice comes through the speakerphone between us.
He’s currently in LA with his fiancée.
“I like that idea,” I chip in.
Holden rubs his eyes. “And how exactly is that supposed to happen?”
“Breaking and entering isn’t nearly as long as a murder sentence.”
“Shit.” Holden groans and starts pacing. “I promised my wife I’d stop breaking the law unless it was absolutely necessary.”
“You don’t think this is absolutely necessary? Would it be better for us to get wrapped up in a murder investigation? We could break in there tonight and get rid of it.”
Now that the idea is forming in my mind, I can’t figure out why we didn’t think of it sooner. The local morgue is inside the funeral home behind Old Harry’s.
Holden finally nods. “I’ll meet you around eleven tonight.”
“I’ll get Sam to come with us.”
“Good,” Cash says. “We need this shit behind us. By the way, Monroe finally decided on Hawai’i in the fall for the wedding. And I don’t need one of you to be locked up for it. So, be careful.” He ends the call.
I’m standing on the front porch with Holden. It’s nearly three in the morning. Dallas’s silhouette appears in the window of the bunkhouse. I can’t peel my eyes away, wondering what she’s doing up after a long night at work.
“You’ve got it bad, baby brother.” Holden muses.
I blink, turning toward him.
“What?”
He nods toward the bunkhouse.
“For her.”
Shit. Do I?
I swing by the bunkhouse a few hours later with two saddled mares. Lady Liberty’s dark mane is shiny because I spent twenty minutes oiling and brushing her.
I did the same to the stud I’m going to ride, Butter. His hide matches his name. He’s a newer one that we bought for calf roping. I wouldn’t put Dallas on him because he’s got a lot of power and can be unpredictable. He’s also a horny motherfucker, and he’s currently got the hots for Lady Liberty.
I tie them up to the front porch railing of the bunkhouse and knock on the front door. I hear something crash and break, followed by the door flying open.
“Hi.” She’s out of breath, clutching a bottle of hair spray. “I’m not ready yet.”
“Okay. I can wait.”
“Come inside.” She spins around, her purple dress flaring out around her.
I follow her in, and she points to the opened bottle of wine.
“Help yourself. I need five minutes.”
She disappears into the bathroom.
I search the cabinet for a clean wineglass, but there aren’t any. I grab a dirty one from the sink of dishes and wash it. Then I decide to fill the dishwasher and start it for her since I’m waiting anyway.
I fill a glass with the wine and take a slow sip. Dallas likes dry reds, which aren’t my usual choice, but I’m starting to warm up to the bitter taste.
My gaze travels around the messy kitchen. I throw away the takeout containers and wipe down the counter. A few minutes later, the space is cleaned up, and she walks out of the room.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her blond hair is piled up on her head with a few loose curls around her face. Her makeup is simple, except for the red lips.
And, damn, are they kissable.
Her brown leather boots are perfect for riding, but I’m not so sure about the dress. It’s a few inches above her knees with a corset top. Her breasts are nearly spilling out of it.
“You look incredible.” I step closer, reaching up to pinch the little purple bow decorating her cleavage. “This dress is … something.”
She blushes, looking down at my suntanned skin next to her much lighter shade.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Let’s go then, darlin’. Don’t wanna lose daylight.”
I grab her hand, chug the rest of the wine, and lead her out the front door. We only have a couple of hours until sunset, and the temp is still a little warm.
We step up to the horses, and she pets my mare’s neck gently.
“What’s her name?”
“Lady Liberty.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“She’s a good girl. You need help getting on?”
She shakes her head and sticks her foot in the leather stirrup. She lifts up onto the horse like she’s done it a hundred times.
“You showing off?”
I make sure her saddle is tight enough before loosening the reins and handing them to her.
She smiles, shaking her head. “It’s not my first time.”
I mount Butter, and he immediately starts shuffling his feet around. He doesn’t like the picnic basket I strapped to his back behind the saddle.
“Whoa, whoa, chill out. You’re all right.” He finally settles down and stands still. I look over at Dallas. “You ready?”
She nods, gently nudging Lady Liberty. Of course, my girl listens right away and falls into step beside Butter.
“How was your day?” I ask her.
“I tried to keep busy. I went for a run, watered the garden, and ordered the boys some new Legos. Did you see that my tomato plants have already sprouted?”
“I did see that. How long till they have fruit on them?”
“I don’t know. A couple of months probably.”
“What are we making first?”
“I was thinking some pico de gallo and fajitas would be so good with fresh tomatoes.”
“Mmm. Yes, ma’am. Let’s do it.”
“So, are you competing in the Spring Showdown?”
“I might be.”
I lead her and Lady Liberty down a hill toward the low crossing at the creek. It has a few inches of water from the last rain, but it’s not too deep. I ride Butter across first, and the mare follows.
“What do you mean?”
“Only if I get the right partner.” I wink at her.
She shakes her head. “No. Not happening.”
“Why? You’re a good dancer.”
“I don’t want to. I’ve got work and the boys, and I don’t have time for stuff like that.”
“I think it falls on your ex’s weekend. And I bet they’d let you off.”
We’re coming up to the two oak trees in the middle of a green field. Earlier today, I laid out a picnic blanket with two wineglasses and a bottle of her favorite red wine.
We pull to a stop, and she stares at the blanket. The sun hides behind a cloud, framing her in the perfect pink light. I pull out my phone and snap a photo of my two best girls with the sunrays framing them like a portrait. That’s my new favorite picture, hands down.
I slide off my horse and walk over to her.
“When did you do this?”
“Earlier today.”
I reach up for her. She lets me help her down, and I take the mare’s reins.
I tie both the horses to a nearby fence post and remove the picnic basket from Butter’s back.
She’s still staring at the scene—like if she looks too hard, it might disappear.
“You’re not used to having nice things done for you, are you?”
She crosses her arms over her stomach, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s perfect.” Her voice is more high-pitched than usual.
“Good. You hungry?”
She nods and steps toward the gingham picnic blanket. I wait for her to choose a seat before sitting down beside her. I grab the bottle of wine, thankful I remembered to uncork it earlier, and pour each of us a glass. I tap mine to hers, and we both drink.
“This is my favorite,” she says.
“Is it?”
She still doesn’t seem to have caught on to the fact that I notice everything about her and I pay attention. I reach for the picnic basket and pull out the food.
I wanted something that would be good if it wasn’t hot or cold, so I brought ham and cheese sliders with a mustard onion glaze. Dallas’s eyes widen when I pull them out, along with the mini strawberry cheesecake cookies.
“My sister helped me,” I confess. “Over-the-phone instructions.”
She purses her lips, trying to hold back a smile.
“It smells really good.”
“You know what they say about a man who can cook.”
I hand her a slider, wrapped in a napkin. “No. What do they say?”
“You should give him a chance, like a real chance.”
I peer up at her, not even trying to hide my expression. It’s a look that says I’m completely, stupidly in love with her.
It took me way too long to realize it, but I finally had a lightbulb moment last night, staring at her silhouette through the window. She was just standing there, and I couldn’t look away.
She might’ve started out as my fuck buddy, but she’s so much more than that to me now. I’ve spent my entire adult life avoiding emotional attachments, jumping from woman to woman without a care in the world.
But Dallas has unknowingly been chiseling away at my heart for months now.
Part of it was the night she was sick, and I helped her with the boys.
Another part was me obsessing over how to keep her ex-husband from hurting her boys again, to the point where all I want is to put him in the ground.
Watching her experience trauma and panic attacks during intimacy makes me feel violently protective of her.
I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.
Then, when I was dancing with Madi Wright, I looked down at her and realized that I didn’t want any other woman in my arms or my bed, ever again.
All I want is Dallas, in every way, not just physically.