“What song is this?” I ask.
“‘Hurt’ by Johnny Cash.”
He shuts his eyes, holding me closer, and I take in the lyrics. Dallas didn’t choose this song, but God, does it fit his life right now.
The jukebox is giving me a warning. Run! Run! You naive girl. This man will only end up hurting you.
A sharp pain fills his eyes as he stares down at me. “You have no idea what you brought out of me tonight.” He blows out a ragged breath. “What you gave me tonight, Willow. I’ve never opened up like this to anyone.”
Even Lucy? is the question I want to ask, but I bite my tongue. Me either are the words I want to say next, but again, I don’t, for fear he’ll run away.
Almost a decade with Brett, and never did emotions drum through me like this.
Is this what it feels like—falling for someone? Is this why people who’ve experienced love crave it so much?
Love.
I gulp down a thousand feelings. I’m overthinking this.
I can’t fall for a man after one night of conversation and a dance.
“I’ve never danced with anyone like this,” I admit.
Instead of pulling away, he draws in nearer, pressing his mouth to my ear. I shiver as his crisp breath hits my sweaty skin. “Like what?”
“Without grinding my ass against someone while Lil Jon plays in the background.”
Proms. Frat parties. Clubs. Those are the only places I’ve danced with men. Never so slow, so personal, so gentle. Never like this.
He chuckles—not only surprising me, but also making me smile. “I’m taking your virginity of how a real man dances with a woman.”
My response is resting my chin on his shoulder and losing myself to the music as he takes me into another world. We stay silent in our moment, but it’s a comfortable silence, something that feels necessary right now. I expect him to pull away when the song ends, but he doesn’t. We dance into the next one with my arms nestled on his rugged shoulders as we feed something we shouldn’t.
“Last call!” a voice yells in the distance, snapping me out of my powerful trance. I’m unsure of how many songs we’ve danced through. “Five minutes until closing time!”
I attempt to pull away, but Dallas tightens his hold, silently asking me not to let go yet.
“Give me that five minutes,” he pleads.
“Of course,” I whisper, slipping my hands down his back. “I’ll give you however long you need.”
He nods his thank-you. Time slows. These five minutes feel like a lifetime. Our embrace grows tighter, our sway to the music slower and the connection sharper.
“Dallas, man, I hate to do this, but I have to shut this shit down,” the guy who screamed out the last call warns.
I lose our connection when he retreats a step, my arms splaying down his sides and then falling to mine, and he gives me an apologetic look.
“Sorry,” he whispers to me before turning his attention to the bartender. “You’re good, man. Enjoy your night.”
The bartender, the same man who was making our drinks, gives him a thumbs-up and a smile. “It was good seein’ ya!”
His gaze lowers to mine. “You ready to go back to Stella’s?”
No! No!
I’m debating on asking the bartender how much he wants for this bar, so we can stay longer.
I force a smile. “I have to be, considering we’re getting kicked out.”
He grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers, and holds them against his shoulder. “It’s beautiful out tonight. How ’bout we take the scenic route? Might be a good idea to show you the beauty of Blue Beech since Hudson says you hate it and refuse to move here with Stella.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Hey now, did he tell you to give me a good time in an attempt to change my mind?”
“You know me better than to think I’d take commands from my baby brother. But”—I knew that but was coming—“that doesn’t mean I won’t try to convince you Blue Beech is a good place, and you should really consider moving here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Especially if I can get another night like this.
He bows his head. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t make any promises.”
“Not thank you for allowing me to show you around. Thank you for making me forget I’m a miserable man missing half of who he is. Thank you for not treating me like a broken fucking object that needs fixing.”
I hide my face on his shoulder to conceal my smile. “You’ve done the same for me.” With my mouth pressed against his denim shirt, my face hidden, I take a risk that could go horribly wrong. “You know somewhere I haven’t seen in Blue Beech?”
“What’s that?”
“The home of Dallas Barnes.”
Don’t judge me.
I know what I’m doing is wrong, but bad ideas sometimes lead to good things, right?
Chapter Thirteen
Willow
One of the biggest things I’ve learned about Blue Beech so far is real-life county fairs are nothing like the movies.
Dallas texted me this morning to remind me of the time he was picking me up and told me to have an appetite. The impulse to decline spilled through me, but the thought of experiencing something new prevented it.
I mean, who doesn’t want to find out what the fair hype is all about?
Dallas parks his truck in a grassy field converted into a parking lot. The amount of cars surprises me. This many people live here?
He helps Maven out of the truck before circling to my side. “Thank you for coming,” he says when he opens my door. He grabs my hand and assists me out of the lifted truck. “It’s all Maven’s been talking about today.”
I nervously laugh. “Guess it was time to pop my fair cherry.” I grimace at my word choice. No, Willow. No flirting with the widowed asshole.
He smirks. “Honored to be the one to do it.”
I nod, relieved he didn’t shut down on me but scared it’ll happen sometime tonight. Like me, Dallas is a pro at freezing people out at the snap of his fingers.
Maven is spinning in circles with her arms out in the air. Her hair is pulled back in two French braids that are finished off with furry pink bands holding each one in place. Did Dallas braid them for her?
I swing the strap of my cross-body bag over my shoulder while Dallas scoops Maven up and spins her around one last time. He takes her hand and leads us toward the flashing lights and white tents. When we hit the dusty pathway, I peek down at my feet, wishing I’d chosen different shoes. Everyone is in boots or sneakers while I’m sporting studded black flats that are going to be ruined by the end of the night.
“I want to ride that one!” Maven exclaims, pointing at rides as we make our way through the crowd. “Then, that one. And that one.”
“Dinner before rides,” Dallas replies, casting a glance my way. “What’s your fair poison?”
“My what?” I ask.
He peeks down at Maven with a smile. “This is Willow’s first time at the fair,” he explains, as if I were the only person who hadn’t done such a thing.
Maven giggles, her face lighting up. “Really?”
I nod, and she reaches out to connect her hand with mine. My chest tightens when I squeeze my hand around hers, a sadness sinking through me. We resemble the other families here—mom and dad treating their eager daughter to a night full of games, candy, and fun.
“My absolute favorites are elephant ears and cotton candy!” she says.
“Hey, I’ve had cotton candy,” I argue.
“But have you had fair cotton candy?” Dallas counters, causing Maven to burst out into more giggles. “Blue Beech cotton candy?”
I glance over at him. “Wasn’t aware there was a difference.”
His dark brows rise. “Oh, there most definitely is.”
We stop at a table underneath a blue tent, and Dallas insists on getting our food. Maven takes the seat next to me, her legs bouncing up and down in excitement.
“Did you know Daddy said I get to ride big-kid rides this year?” she asks with a burst of energy I wish I had every morning. “Last year, I wasn’t tall enough, but I’ve grown lots and lots!”
“No way!” I reply before holding my hand up in the air. “I had to wait until I was this big before I got to do that.”
Her head tilts to the side. “I thought you’d never been to a fair?”
Girl is smart for a six-year-old.
“I’ve been to Disney.”
She bounces in her seat. “Me, too! Mommy and Daddy took me for my birthday. I had lunch with Princess Jasmine!”
I place my hand over my heart and gasp. “Princess Jasmine? That’s so cool. Is she your favorite princess?”
She nods repeatedly. “Who’s yours?”
“Ariel.” I point to my hair. “Have to support my fellow redhead.”
“She’s my second favorite!” She claps her hands. “Maybe, next time, you can come with Daddy and me and meet Princess Jasmine!”
I nod timidly. “Yeah, maybe.”
Our conversation stops when Dallas gets to the table with drinks in his hands and plates lined up his arms, like an experienced waiter. I slide out of my seat to help him set everything down.
“Are you feeding the entire town?” I ask.
“I promised to give you the full fair experience,” he says, sitting down across from me. He points to the plates the same way Maven did with the rides. “Tenderloins are Maven’s and my favorite. I also grabbed some fried chicken, shish kebabs, and pizza in case you wanted to play it safe. Then, we have some elephant ears and cotton candy. Drinks are an option of a lemon shake-up, water, or soda.”
I snag a lemon shake-up. “So many healthy choices.”
He chuckles. “We’re splurging tonight.”
Maven sticks out her tongue. “It’s better than broccoli. Daddy makes me eat gross broccoli.”
Dallas points his fork at her. “Give a man some credit for adding cheese to it for you.”
Maven picks up a shish kebab and waves it through the air. “Not better than cotton candy! Pink is the best!” she sings out.
The nauseating smell of meat smacks me in the face, causing my stomach to churn, and she sets it back down on her plate. I close my hand over my nose and mouth—not only to block out the stench, but also to stop myself from vomiting in front of a crowd of people.
Dallas drops his sandwich. “Everything okay?”
“The meat,” I choke out underneath my hand, shaking my head. “None of that.”
He gets the hint, grabs it from Maven’s plate, and tosses it in the trash. “Sorry, honey,” he tells her. “Bad meat.”
She nods and moves on to a tenderloin.
I move my hand and take a deep breath, whispering, “Thank you,” to him.
His lips tilt up in a smile, a real one, something I haven’t seen from him since I’ve been here. My breathing hitches. My heart skitters.
“Any weird cravings yet?” he asks.
“Cupcakes. Cake. Brownies. Sugar in general.”
He laughs, another authentic one, making me happy I came. “I’ll remember that.”
My lips curve into a smile, meeting his, and I snack on a slice of cheese pizza while Maven takes over the conversation of how excited she is to leave for summer camp in a few days. She shoves her plate forward after the last bite and focuses on Dallas in determination that is too intense for a kid whose age hasn’t reached the double digits yet.
“Time for rides, Daddy!” she declares. “And don’t you forget, I get to ride the big-kid ones. No more kiddy zone for me.”
Dallas holds his hand up. “Hold it, youngster. Only the ones you meet the height requirement for, remember?”
“Is she trying to talk you into letting her bungee jump again?”
Hudson’s voice catches me off guard, and I turn around to see him and Stella coming our way. The sight of her eases me. Hudson … not so much. I’m not sure how he feels about me. Stella insists he holds no grudges against me, but I don’t believe her.
“I’m not old enough for that yet,” Maven says.
“Or ever,” Dallas corrects. He stares down at Maven, shaking his head. “You, my dear child, are going to give me a heart attack before forty.”
“Hey, brother,” Hudson cuts in. “Which will be worse—the day she wants to bungee jump or date?”
“Dating,” Dallas answers without hesitation. “I will bungee jump at her side before I agree to dating.”
“Gross, I don’t want to date,” Maven chimes in with disgust.
Dallas taps the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”
“You want to ride roller coasters with me, Uncle Hudson?” Maven asks. “Willow is coming!”
Pregnancy and carnival rides don’t go together.
“Oh no,” I moan out. “I get motion sickness.”
I’m not sure when Dallas is going to break the news that she’s going to be a big sister, but I most certainly don’t want to be in attendance. Lord knows the questions she’ll have.
Maven’s smile morphs into a pout. “My mommy did, too, but she was always okay.”
I regret looking at Dallas at the mention of Lucy. His body goes still, and I’m confident his heart is beating faster than anyone on a roller coaster here. The lightness of our time together has been extinguished, a whirl of unease stepping through. He scratches his neck, and I notice a vein popping out from it.
“How about I go with you? I love roller coasters!” Stella quickly offers up, lying to the poor girl.
“Thank you,” I whisper to her while Maven waits for Dallas’s permission.
His eyes are vacant, his face cloaked with pain. He’s checked out.
“I’ll make sure the two of them stay out of trouble,” Hudson says. “You keep introducing Willow to coma-inducing foods and sell Blue Beech to her.”
Dallas pinches the bridge of his nose and nods. I grab my lemon shakeup and suck it down without even bothering to argue with Hudson about the “sell Blue Beech to her” comment. The thought of Dallas showing me around makes me queasier than the meat.
Stella grabs Maven’s hand, and the three of them take off through the pack of people. I’m struggling to find the right words. I want to console Dallas, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. It might push him away more.
Isn’t that what I wanted when I found out I was pregnant?
Now, I’m thriving for more from him.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve admired his love for Lucy. His commitment to her, even when half-dressed women threw themselves at him in hopes of seeing Stella.
Seeing their relationship made you believe in love again.
And that’s why I can’t get close to him.
He’ll never give me that.
You don’t get love like that twice in a lifetime.
You can’t awaken those emotions back out of a broken man.
I need to back off and quit trying to make strides with him that’ll only end up stomping on my heart when I’m forced to face the devastation that he’s just around me because I got knocked up by him.
I don’t realize I’m staring until his hollow eyes meet mine. His Adam’s apple bobs while he piles the plates on top of each other and disposes them into the trash.
He fraudulently smiles down at me. “You ready for your Blue Beech pitch?”
I grab a bag of cotton candy. “I’ll listen, but I’m not someone easily convinced.”
“Oh, Miss Andrews, I can be a very persuasive man.” He must’ve given himself a pep talk on his way to the trash because his excitement meter has risen a few notches.
I shove a handful of cotton candy into my mouth before getting up. We walk in silence, side by side, passing annoyed parents yelling at their children and people spending their paychecks on games that are scamming them.
Everyone stops and stares when we walk past them, like we’re the show animals. A few women have pulled out their phones to record
us. We appear as platonic as it gets. Hell, maybe more like strangers, considering we’re not saying a word to each other.
No story here, people.
Don’t twist it into something it’s not.
Because it’s way more complicated than us having sex.
“How about a game?” Dallas asks, breaking my attention away from the crowd of women pointing our way.
I throw them a dirty grimace and set my eyes back on him.
We’ve stopped in front of a ring-toss game with giant animals hanging from the roof of the tent.
“The chances of me winning that small stuffed animal is one in a gazillion, and it will cost me a couple of hundred bucks. I’d rather save my money and buy a new handbag.” Or a crib.
“I like your style.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve blown so much money on those stupid things. Lucy loved them.” He tilts his head toward the flashing lights and spinning rides. “Ferris wheel?”
“I see you live on the wild side.”
“Risky is my middle name. Be right back.”
I combatively stare at him while he jogs over to the ticket booth without waiting to hear my answer.
How do I tell him I’d rather blow my life savings on a game than be stuck in the air with him?
As bad as I want to, I can’t. It’s hard for me to give him shit when it looks like someone ran over his dog.
So, I wait in line.
He hands the bored attendant our tickets and helps me into the car. It’s cramped as we sit across from each other. I blush each time our knees brush in the tight space.
“You make a doctor’s appointment yet?” he asks when the wheel starts to move.
I sigh playfully. “This was your plan, huh? Get me hundreds of feet in the air, so I can’t bail when you ask me complicated questions?”
He holds his hand up, a smile cracking at his lips. It’s not as real as the one he gave me at the beginning of the night, but it’s better than the artificial one earlier. “Convenient timing, I swear.” He pauses, the smile still flickering at his lips. “Subconscious smart move on my part, considering your history of being a runner.”
His jeans rub against my bare leg when I situate myself on the metal seat. Like my flats, shorts weren’t the best fashion choice.
Just One Night Page 7
