by Amy Gregory
Making her way to the landing though, she stilled. Two voices. Leaning against the wall, yet unseen from the two on the couch, and although she couldn’t see them either, it was Eli’s distinct laugh and teasing that caused her hand to clutch at her heart.
Dallas squealed and threatened him back, and she had to let go of the railing to cover her mouth to keep her laughter from escaping. For a long moment, she stood unnoticed, listening to their game. Their laughter, the teasing, and banter flowed so easily between them. Slowly, she lowered herself to sit on the plush step, not wanting to stop their fun, but not wanting to miss it either by going back to her room.
Eli’s dude and buddy that he kept calling Dallas were one thing, never referring to him by name, but more often than not…Eli called him son. Hearing the two together, Honor swallowed hard, half-smiling.
Half-panicking.
****
As Dallas cleared the triple again, he saw Eli pull his fist in close to his side. From previous experience, Dallas knew the yes yelled in combination with the celebratory move could be heard across the track, even if at the moment his bike was drowning out Eli’s voice. He liked making Eli proud. Dallas liked pleasing everyone at the academy, but there was a deeper level to the gratification when it came to the man he’d worshiped for years—long before they met in person.
Crossing the finish line on his final designated practice lap, he downshifted, coasting slowly toward Jesse and Carter, standing by the coolers the school had set out for the students.
“As always, great job today, Dallas.” Jesse said, putting his hand out to offer a high-five.
Shifting into neutral, Dallas shut the bike off. Still straddling the hot engine, he lifted his goggles, waiting to hear any new pointers. “Thank you, sir.”
Carter clasped his shoulder with one hand and helped hold the bike steady with the other. “You know we’ve told you that you can call us by name?” he teased.
“Sorry”—Dallas blushed underneath his helmet—“it’s habit.”
“Well, in any case, we couldn’t be more proud of you. Go on over to the shop and take your bike to Emery. Eli’s limping this way, I bet he’s ready to get home for the night.”
“Okay. Thanks, sir…um…Carter,” he replied, lowering his voice. Hanging his goggles from his handle bars, he started the bike up. The engine never failed to fire with the first kick, unlike his bike back home.
After a quick thank you to Emery, he started the trek toward Eli’s Razor, grinning as he saw Eli already seated and waiting on him. Brody was standing next to it, telling him one of his animated stories, his hands and arms waving through the air as he laughed. Dallas loved Brody’s stories. They were awesome, and he couldn’t help but laugh to himself watching his trainer from a distance.
“You just think you’re hot shit, don’t ya?”
With his helmet hanging from his arm, Dallas turned to see who was behind him. He’d felt secure on the Noland property and riding their track with the other kids. But his gut instinct had kicked in the minute he locked eyes with the old Highlend’s boy yesterday. They had arrived while he was on the track practicing, and although they hadn’t been introduced, Dallas started hearing the familiar jealous whispers he was used to back home.
Without his mother’s knowledge, his Uncle Mac had taught him a few moves to defend himself once the smack talk and taunting got out of hand a couple of times. His mother knew he was out in the shed doing sit-ups and pushups, but the rest was a secret—left man-to-man.
Deliberately keeping his voice calm so he didn’t provoke the older, taller, and probably stronger boy, Dallas raised one eyebrow. “Nope,” he replied with a feigned confidence.
“Scott, leave him be.”
“Stay out of this, Evan.”
Dallas took one step back as Scott shoved his own brother out of the way. A head shorter than his older brother, Evan did as he was told. Dallas glanced between the two, but was careful to keep a watchful eye on Scott’s movements. Although inside he was freaking out, he remained rooted to the ground, his stance steady, just as his uncle had taught him. He also kept his mouth shut, just as Mac had instructed, but he stared the older boy in the eye, gritting his teeth, and trying to blink as little as possible. Dallas didn’t even flinch when Scott jerked forward in a total power move.
“Well, stay out of my way. Got it, asshole?”
“That’s not hard to do since you’re always behind me,” Dallas said calmly, with a narrowed eye.
With a huff, Scott stepped backward. The sound of crunching in the grass sounded as Dallas heard the little boots getting closer from behind him.
Scott smirked. “Oh look, here comes your girlfriend.” Raising his voice, he hollered across the lawn to Alex. “I think Dallas needs a kiss—“
In less than a split-second, Dallas dropped his helmet and gripped two fists full of Scott’s nylon jersey, pulling the older boy nose-to-nose. Looking upward to make eye contact, Dallas’s heart pounded. “You stay away from her! You got me?”
Scott tried to shove himself away, pushing hard against Dallas’s shoulders, but got nowhere. The grip Dallas maintained held steadfast as he glared at his opponent.
“Don’t underestimate me. Leave her alone or—”
“Or what?”
Dallas could feel she was close by now, and he needed to end the confrontation before she got hurt. “Or I’ll finish you.”
With all his might, Dallas pushed Scott away, sending him stumbling backward several steps. Without another look, Dallas grabbed his helmet off the ground and turned with his other hand held out. In two long strides, he reached Alex and quickly took her hand in his, pulling her away from Scott as fast as her little legs could go.
“What’s wrong, Dallas? Are you mad?”
Something about her little voice, the worry, kept a filter on his anger. “Um…kinda.”
“At that big boy?”
“Yep. And Alex”—he bent down, resting his palm on her tiny shoulder—“you stay away from him. Okay?”
She blinked back at him, wide eyed.
Worry had his heart racing again. “Promise me?”
“I promise, Dallas. I promise.”
Standing back up, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Scott flip him off. Dallas didn’t respond, only patted Alex’s back and grasped her hand again to keep her walking. She’d started to tell him a story, and he nodded then looked up toward Eli’s Razor. It was now vacant, and instead both he and Carter were approaching. They’d been out of earshot, but judging by their faces, they’d seen the whole thing. He knew where his mother stood on fighting, and his uncle, both with varying degrees of acceptance. But here at the academy with Carter and especially Eli—his mouth went dry. If it weren’t for the grip Alex had on his hand, now pulling him along, his legs would have probably quit working.
“And Grandma said to bring you up to the house after practice, Dallas. We have a surprise for you. Come on, hurry, you big slow-pokie,” she teased giggling.
The adrenaline that raged through him before, erasing all fear when Alex was his only thought, was gone. Left in its place was a heavy lump in his stomach. With Alex still tugging on his arm, the talk the two men were ready to give was not apparent to her. Dallas squeezed her hand and tried to smile. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”
“But you gotta come now, Dallas. Grandma’s waitin’ on you.”
“Alex, honey, you go on up to the house and tell Grandma that Daddy and Uncle Eli have to talk to him first. Then he’ll be right there.” Carter nodded. “Okay?”
With her face scrunched up, she sized them all up, then put her little fists on her hips. With a tilt of Carter’s head, Dallas watched her think twice about arguing back.
The fight went out of her. “’Kay, Daddy.”
For several long moments, his eyes followed her. Watching his reprieve with long curls disappear through the French doors, Dallas swallowed hard and turned back to her father and Eli.
“Someone’s taught you to fight,” he said with a nod.
It wasn’t a question, but Dallas pulled in a breath and answered anyway, just in case. “Uh…yes, sir.”
“Your Uncle Mac?” Eli’s mouthed quirked.
With his heart in his throat, Dallas chewed on his lower lip. “Um…”
“So your mom doesn’t know, does she?” Eli grinned, shaking his head.
With that one smile, Dallas’s heart slowed. It was the same look Eli had on his face when he surprised him with the video game a couple of nights ago. Kind of ornery, kind of like a big kid, kind of like maybe…he wasn’t in trouble. At least he hoped.
“She doesn’t know that you needed to learn to fight back…does she?” Eli asked.
Somehow Eli just got it. He understood. Slowly, Dallas shook his head, still unclear if he’d made the men angry or not. Understanding was one thing, being okay with it was another. His uncle was clear to define when it was and wasn’t appropriate to stand up for himself, but this was unique situation.
“He said something about Alex. Didn’t he?”
Dallas dragged his eyes back to look up at Carter. Scott’s words replayed instantly through his head. The meanness of his tone and the boy’s laughter had Dallas gritting his teeth. His anger flared up again. He jerked his head in response.
“That’s what I thought.” Carter’s face went serious. “You were ready to walk away—until you felt the need to protect her. Am I right?”
Pulling in a big breath, Dallas fisted his free hand. “Yes, sir.”
“Let me just set this all straight, okay?” Carter tilted his head, waiting.
“’Kay?”
“You think you’re in trouble with us, I can see it all over your face. But let me tell you right now, you will never get in trouble with any of us for defending one of our kids. I can assure you of that. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Carter clasped his shoulder, and Dallas’s eyes went wide. “I mean it, you did the right thing. You protected my little girl, and you will never get in trouble for that as long as I’m around. And thank you for being there for her.”
Dallas nodded, still silent, and still in Carter’s grasp, his eyes drifted to Eli’s.
“Me either, son.” Eli’s smile spread wide across his face and the air left Dallas’s lungs in a huff. Eli pulled him close to his side, roughly but chuckling. He slipped from Carter’s hold as relief flooded through him with Eli’s teasing. “I think he was more scared of us, bro, than he was of getting his ass kicked by Highlends.”
“No shit, E…I think you’re right.” Carter winked down at Dallas then playfully punched his upper arm.
Eli turned on him, and they both started wrestling him to the ground, Dallas laughing and squirming the whole way down to the soft grass below. Not wanting to let them figure out how ticklish he was, Dallas tried to roll away, but the two grown men kept after him. “Uncle…uncle.” He squealed in surrender, red faced and breathing hard.
“Daddy, noooo!” Flying down the steps from the back patio, Alex came running as fast as she could.
“Oh shit. We’re in trouble with his woman,” Eli said, backhanding Carter’s upper arm.
Heat flamed across his face as Dallas stood back up, taking Carter’s outstretched hand for assistance. He couldn’t help it though, he smiled proudly as Alex came to his rescue. And she was pissed. Her ice-blue eyes narrowed on her father and uncle in a very serious, very grown-up manner. Taking a cue from them both, Dallas kept his laughter to himself, although Eli was snickering and about to lose it.
Throwing her arms around him, Alex squeezed him tight, her head pressed up against him. Eli bent down to scoop up his helmet and the gloves that had fallen out of it. Without the helmet to carry, Dallas grinned.
Loosening her hold, he bent down. “You want a piggyback ride?” Her eyes went wide, and she scrambled up his back, clasping her arms around his neck.
“My Dallas.” She giggled as he started jogging up toward the main house.
He was good distance in front of the two adults following them. Eli’s bad back slowed them down, so they hadn’t heard what she’d softly said against his ear.
Alex was about to turn four, and he was eleven, but they had formed a friendship the moment she’d taken him by the hand the first time. She accepted him without question, unlike any other kid had. She liked him and made him laugh, unlike the kids he was used to back home.
With one hand, he held her tight as he reached for the door handle with his other.
“Look Grandma, I bringed him to you.”
Karen grinned. “You brought him to me?”
“Yep. I bringed him to you,” Alex said again as he crouched down. Letting her off his back, she grabbed him by the hand, and took him straight to a platter of freshly baked cupcakes on the large island. “Lookie what Grandma and I maked you.”
“We made them for him. Didn’t we?”
Karen’s grammar corrections went straight over Alex’s head. Instead, she smiled proudly and, on tiptoes, reached toward the plate, pulling it closer.
“Just one, I know Mommy is making dinner for you, and I’m sure your mom is doing the same. From what I hear from Eli, she’s quite the cook,” Karen said, pulling out two plates.
“Oh my God, is she ever,” Eli bragged, coming through the door they’d left open. “Just like you, huh Mom?” He pulled Karen to his side.
Dallas knew Karen wasn’t Eli’s real mom, but everyone here was so loving, he couldn’t help but smile back at them. It was fun to be around them all—the way they joked and laughed all the time. It was way better than being at home. He loved his uncle, but he’d give almost anything if he and his mom could stay there in Pennsylvania—with them forever.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“It’s been a week, Honor. You’ve cooked, cleaned, and cooked some more. You’re making me feel guilty.” Eli hip-checked her on the way through the kitchen with a laundry basket in his hands. “Now, I’m ordering you to sit and relax.”
Another time, another man, and she would have read that kind of attitude in an entirely different light, but he’d spoken with a light teasing voice. She forced herself to remember the two men were nothing alike, and Eli’s sweetness continued to widen that gap, making her see some truths that were even uglier than she’d thought before.
She continued to sprinkle the freshly grated parmesan cheese on top of the lasagna she was making. Honor heard the laundry room door close again, and as he came back around the corner, she raised her eyebrow at him. No words necessary.
His now-empty hands went up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m asking you to relax.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.
He ran his fingertips gently over her shoulder as he turned and leaned against the counter. In her space—as usual.
Damn, he was just so easy to be around. There weren’t the eggshells that were there during her marriage, or the silence of their almost always empty bed—and the pain of knowing that her husband was undoubtedly in someone else’s bed.
It had been that way for seven days. Seven long, tortuous days. The goofy smirks, the winks, his damn sexy-as-all-hell grins, and the freaking mornings—they were the worst. He’d come out to the kitchen when she would be minding her own business at the stove or mixing up muffins. He would just saunter out, make his way to the coffee maker, poor himself a cup and lean against the counter smiling at her. Half-naked, as his pajama pants hung just low enough on his waist that the V of his muscles directed her eyes somewhere she shouldn’t be spending so much time wondering about.
Every damn day.
Every damn day she had to look at his six-pack abs—hell, they were an eight-pack. She knew because she’d counted. And then if he turned, it was that freaking beautiful tattoo. The one she had memorized. Every line, swoo
p, every bit of shading, and each swirl had been etched into her mind forever.
If that wasn’t bad enough, there were the light touches, the kind words…the hope he was setting up. All pieces to the kind of dreams she had kept to herself as a teenage girl, the part of her that was a hopeless romantic—even though her mother would have read her the riot act. She had locked those feelings, dreams, and hopes away, knowing they didn’t exist in real life. But…Eli—he was making it harder and harder to fight what her heart so badly wanted, even though in her head she knew it would never work, not in a million years.
Once again, he looked at her with an innocence she could only shake her head at. She let out a breath. Never going to happen. It couldn’t. She had three weeks left in his house, in his world. Then where would she be? Back in Tennessee, back in her little house, cleaning other people’s homes for barely enough money and doing her damnedest to keep her son racing. Trying to honor James Noland’s one request with nothing more than a few dollars and a whole lot of praying.
“It’s what I do, Eli. I can’t sit here on my ass all day. I have to help, I have to do something to give back. I’m sorry.” Her words weren’t apologetic in the least, it was more of a plea to let her continue to help.
Having memorized his layout, she opened the drawer she knew held the tin foil, and wrapped the pan. He apparently wasn’t moving so she stepped around him to the double ovens. Placing it into the bottom section, she shut the oven door and set the timer, as if she’d always lived in his home. On her way back to the counter, on the other side of him and the waiting French bread, he snaked a hand out and grabbed her. Pulling her into him with a force so strong she collided with thud against his strong chest.
