“What made you change your mind?”
His question smacks me out of my eye-fucking-him moment. “A change of scenery sounded nice.”
He chuckles, faking offense. “Not the company?”
I bite the side of my lip. “I haven’t decided on that yet.”
“I admire your honesty and pledge to give you the time of your life, so you can make that decision at the end of this trip. The drive is beautiful. We won’t hit any of that bullshit LA traffic you’re used to.”
“How long are we talking?”
Now that I think about it, I should’ve asked more questions before jumping into his truck. It seems I have a habit of jumping into things with this man without considering what could happen first.
“Eight-hour round trip. We’ll be at the auction for an hour or two. My eyes are only on one piece of equipment, which will be at the front of the line. I bid and fill out the paperwork, and then we’ll be back on the road.”
“Sounds like a whole process. How often do you do this, and why do you do it?”
“Once or twice a month, depending on what they have for sale. Hudson and I buy machinery that needs to be updated. We fix it up, modernize it—that kind of stuff. Then, we sell it to farmers and construction companies around the area.”
Interesting. I knew he and Hudson did some type of machinery work but never knew what exactly it was.
Stella’s explanation consisted of, “They fix stuff and sell machines,” which wasn’t as thorough as his answer.
“How did you get into it?” I want to draw out every detail of his life that I can.
“My grandfather started the business decades ago. My dad ran it after he passed and while I was in LA and Hudson was in the military. He’s ready to retire, so he asked us to take over. Since we’re home for good now, we figured it was the perfect time. We’ve already expanded the business and doubled our clientele.”
“So, you bid on the machines you want and then take them to the shop if you win?”
“Most of the time, I bring a trailer and tow the machine with my truck, but today, I’ll have a contractor pick it up and deliver it to the shop.”
I squint my eyes at him. “Why not tow it today?”
“It’s not only uncomfortable, but also a longer trip when towing a piece of heavy machinery. I want you to be comfortable.”
Dallas might have had parts of his heart shattered, but fragments are still shoved in there, beating. He’s kind even though he’s heartbroken. He’s miserable, but he manages to consider other people.
“I’ve been on eighteen-hour flights and gone straight to work without sleeping for another twenty-four,” I tell him. “It’s nothing compared to traveling with Stella.”
“You get paid for that. You’re not getting paid for this, and quite frankly, even if you were, I’d still want to make it comfortable for you.” He shakes his head and whistles. “I sure don’t miss traveling with Stella.”
I nod in agreement. “At first, it was a blast, but it’s not always glitz and glam, working for Hollywood’s finest.”
His fingers close around the steering wheel, and he stares at the road. “Seemed like a good idea then, but I have my regrets.”
“Regrets about working for her or not moving back when Lucy did?”
“Both, to be honest.” The ease of his laid-back mood evaporates. We’ve moved from the weather to an intimate conversation. “Moving to LA was Lucy’s idea. I was fine with staying in Iowa, but she wanted a change.”
I’ve been curious about Dallas’s story since he started working for Stella. She filled me in on small details, and I picked up information here and there, but we never ventured into personal conversations, never let our real life seep through the cracks of our professional one.
“You moved for her?” I ask.
“I loved her.” So much was said in those three words.
“Why did you stay when she moved back?”
Dallas had been working for Stella for three years when Lucy moved back home. Stella was a stressed mess, worried about finding a new bodyguard as good as him, but he decided to stay, relieving us both.
Sadness. Regret. Tension. All of those emotions pass over his face. “I offered, sometimes even begged when the loneliness of missing my family barreled through, but Lucy insisted I stay. The money was too good to pass up. Our plan was to save enough money, so I could move home after a few years. We’d be able to live more comfortably.” More waves of sadness smack into him, and he pauses. “Fuck it.”
I stay quiet, not sure if he’s going to shut down or break down.
He expels a long breath before going on, “I’ve never told anyone this, not even Hudson. We …” He hesitates again. “We were trying for another baby. Maven was unplanned, so we wanted to do things the right way. Expand our family. Funny how life works. We could conceive when we weren’t ready but couldn’t when we were. Her doctor suggested IVF, which costs a fucking fortune, so we decided to save money and try it in a few years.”
Wow.
My heart breaks at his confession. He was desperately trying to have another baby with his wife and failed. Then, I got pregnant after a one-night stand with him. His wish for more kids has been granted but with the wrong woman.
“You regret not coming back,” I say, my voice thick, my throat hurting.
“Every fucking day of my life.”
I wanted his reality, his secrets, but I now wish for a dead end. This road is too heartbreaking, and I’m roaming along the sidewalks of guilt. He has to go through all of the motions with me now even though he wanted to do them with someone else.
“You don’t expect to lose your wife that young,” he continues. “You don’t expect your daughter to be motherless at six. We were fucking robbed, and I didn’t take advantage of spending all my time with her, protecting her, until life broke in and took her from me.”
His vulnerability shocks me. It’s comforting to see a flash of something other than anger spark out of him. His hurt opens up emotions in me, and I’m holding myself back from bursting into tears at the sight of this broken man. I’m fighting back the urge to reach out and console him. To let him know everything will be okay.
But I can’t, for fear of falling harder for a man who’s unavailable. When I fall in love, I fall hard, and that’s my weakness. People that love as deep as I do get their hearts shattered harder when it all falls apart.
He blows out a stressed breath and focuses on me in pain. He tilts his lips up into a forced smile. “And here I said I’d give you a good time.”
“You’re fine. I like this Dallas,” I answer, honestly.
He rubs the back of his neck. “You like me being a miserable bastard?”
“I like you being real,” I correct. I’ve never evoked emotions like this out of anybody.
“This is as real as it gets. This is me, and I wish I could be someone better for you.”
“What you’re giving me is enough.” He wants to be a better father, not a better lover, not a better man for me. I repeat that to myself over and over in my head, hoping it’ll drill the reality through. “I mean … what you’re giving the babies.”
“I hope that never changes.”
Chapter Twenty
Dallas
“Woohoo! We won!”
I can’t stop my lips from breaking into a smile, watching Willow jump up and down in excitement after the auctioneer yells, “Sold,” and points to me.
The men around me are either staring at her in annoyance or desire, and I want to slap all their thoughts from their heads.
I’ve managed to snag the excavator and got a better deal than I planned. An overweight man wearing a business suit had me worried for a minute when he started driving the price up, but lucky for me, he gave up early.
I know his kind. The men who are only in business for profit and for retail-fucking people with no concern about how they bust their asses every day to keep food in their families’ mouths.
Barnes Machinery and Equipment isn’t like that. We give a shit about people, about their checkbooks, never high gross.
Willow insisted on tagging along with me at the bidding yard. I offered to let her wait in the truck or hang out in the coffee shop across the street since there’s a lot of standing and waiting around for your item to come up. She wouldn’t have it and refused to decline a ticket into my world.
She hasn’t complained once, which doesn’t surprise me. She’s a hard worker, who scored a job with one of the most prestigious celebrity PR and assistant firms in LA at twenty-one. She worked with Hollywood’s elite and impressed Stella so much, she hired her full-time. Even though Stella isn’t as hard on her, Willow works her ass off to make things easier for her boss.
Hell, most of the time she goes above and beyond what is asked of her. She works long hours, does the shit no one else wants to do, and fixes any problems that come along.
“How about some jams?” Willow asks when we get back into the truck.
I paid for the machine, filled out all the necessary paperwork, and scheduled the delivery. We’d gotten lunch before the auction started, and now, my goal is to find her some kick-ass tacos for being such a good sport.
“You be the DJ,” I answer.
Music comes blaring through the speakers when she turns the radio on. I haven’t used it since dropping Maven off at camp and cringe at the same time she bursts out into a fit of laughter. Since her laugh is contagious, I can’t stop myself from doing the same.
“Whoa,” she says when she catches her breath. “Didn’t peg you as a Bieber fan, Barnes.”
I turn down the volume a few notches. “I’m not. Maven is a Bieber fan.”
“Blaming it on the kid, huh? How convenient.” She smacks her palm against her forehead. “Oh. My. God.”
I lift my chin. “What?”
“My baby daddy is a Belieber.”
“A what?”
“A Belieber. A member of Justin’s fan club.”
For fuck’s sake.
Not only do I have to listen to this shit, but now, Willow also thinks I’m his biggest fucking fan with posters of his mug splattered all over my bedroom wall.
“I’m not, let me repeat, I’m not a member of his fan club.”
“I believe you.” A smile still dances on her moist lips.
“Appreciate it.”
“You’re the President of it.”
I can’t stop myself from smiling as a light chuckle echoes from my chest. “Oh, come on, you honestly can’t believe I listen to this shit.”
“The evidence is clear, counselor. His music is on your radio.”
Thunder roars through the sky so loud, I can’t hear Bieber, and rain smacks into my windshield. Fuck.
“And look at that. God knows you’re lying, too.”
“Or the weather predicted a seventy percent chance of thunderstorms, but I hoped it’d be in our favor.”
At least it waited until after the auction to pour hell down.
The windshield wipers squeak when I shift them to high, and Willow turns down the music, reading my mind so that I can focus better on the road. My headlights shine brightly as the sky turns a deep shade of black even though it’s only after six.
I lower my speed and get better control of my view on the road when a loud pop rings out, and my steering wheel starts to shake. The ride gets bumpy, and Willow hangs on to her seat belt for stability.
I pull the truck over and park it before slamming my hand against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare out.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter.
“What?” Willow asks.
“We have a flat.”
She stares at me as if it’s not a problem. “You know how to change a tire, right?”
I nod. “It helps if you have a spare though.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re kidding me.”
“I wish I were.” I feel like a defeated asshole.
This puts a damper on our almost perfect day. We’re stranded in the rain, and instead of tacos, I’ll be giving her Maven’s fruit snacks as the final course.
“No big deal. We’ll call a tow truck. I’ve been in bigger messes than this in my sleep.”
“One problem with that.” I pull out my phone to show her the screen. “No service. Tell me you have something.”
She snatches her purse from the floorboard and rifles through it before finding her phone.
Horror takes over her face when the screen comes to life.
“For real?” she shrieks, throwing her hands up in the air. “We’re in the ass crack of no-man’s-land stranded with no spare tire. This is straight out of a horror movie.” She turns around and lays her gaze out the back window. “Swear to God, if a meat-truck-driving serial killer pulls up, I’m making a run for it.”
I grind my teeth, my heart crashing with anguish and guilt from putting her in this situation. I gave my dad my spare last week and forgot to replace it.
Her face softens when she peeks over at me. “Shit, sorry,” she whispers over the pelting rain hitting the windshield. “That was too dramatic for this situation. I tend to do that at times.”
“You’re fine. I’ll take dramatics over you wanting to kill me.” I turn around in my seat and snatch a jacket from the backseat. “I’m going to see if I can manage to get service in the field over there.”
She points out the window. “It’s pouring. There are no streetlights. We should wait until the storm calms before going out.”
I put the jacket on. “What if it storms all night?”
She starts to unbuckle her seat belt. “Then, I’m coming with you.”
I stop her and snap it back in place. “The fuck you are. Stay here, and I’ll be back in a flash.”
I jump out of the truck despite her protests and hold my phone in the air while sprinting toward the field. The rain comes at me sideways while I wait for the service bars to light up on my phone.
Come on! Come on!
I jump, nearly losing my phone, when a crack of lightning bites through the dark sky. I can barely make out the truck in the downpour and am still messing with my phone when I notice the bright shine of headlights getting closer.
My attention snaps away from the car to the truck at the sound of a door slamming. I scream her name and race toward her when she starts running to the side of the road, waving her hands in the air. The car flies by, splashing her with water, and her shoulders slump in failure.
Fear and anger splinter through me like the storm.
“Have you lost your mind?” I scream, snatching her by the waist from behind and swinging her into my arms. I hover my body over hers to protect her from getting more soaked and tighten my hold on her shivering body while walking us from the street back to my truck. “They could’ve run you over!”
My breathing halts, dying in my throat, and a chill colder than the rain zips down my spine when she rotates herself in my arms. My hands stay on her wrists as she glares at me before jerking out of my hold with a huff.
“I was flagging them down for help!”
“You running out in the street, waving down some stranger, does not fucking help me. You keeping your ass in the heated seat in the safety of my truck is what helps me.”
“It was worth a try!”
The way her voice cracks makes me feel like shit. We lock eyes. She’s staring at me like she’s searching my soul, assessing the situation in my eyes, unsure of what my next step will be.
I suck in each breath she expels, inhaling her sweet scent, nearly panting at the sight of her dripping wet in front of me, neglecting the shitty situation we’re in. Her shirt is soaked to her skin, her hard nipples peeking through the thin tee, and I lick my lips, mentally tasting her.
My next step should be getting her inside the truck, out of this chilly ambush of rain, but goddamn it, I can’t break away. I run a hand through her hair and smooth it down before lowering my fingers to her cheek. She shuts her eyes an
d relaxes into my touch.
I inch forward, my chest brushing against hers, and she lets out a soft moan. The sweet sound runs straight to my dick.
“Dallas,” she whispers, eyes still closed, “what are we doing?”
I can’t stop myself from chuckling. “We’re standing in the rain.”
“No,” she croaks out. “What are we doing?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dallas
Willow’s question shakes me back into reality, and I drop my hand from her face.
She wants to have this conversation now.
In the pouring rain.
I chuckle.
This situation sums up our relationship.
Bad timing. Unexpected. Not sure what the next move is.
I run my hands down her arms when her teeth start to chatter. “We need to get you in the truck,” I say, squeezing her shoulders.
I move around her to open the door. She nods timidly, her front teeth biting into her soft lip, and turns her back to me to climb in. I stand behind her, helping her up, and make sure she’s secure.
“I managed to get one bar in the middle of the field. I’m going to try to get in contact with a tow company, so I need you to refrain from leaving the car. I don’t give a shit if a parade starts coming down the street.” I nod my head toward the dashboard. “Turn the heat on high. I have clothes in my gym bag in the backseat for you to change into.”
“Got it. No getting out of the car.” I go to close the door, but she stops me. “What if a serial killer is running toward you with a knife?”
This woman and her fucking questions. Where does she come up with this shit? “You lock the doors and let me deal with it.”
“I’m trained in martial arts, you know. I was a junior green belt. I would be a great help.”
“Look at you, badass. Keep your eyes out for killers and promise me you’ll stay in here.” I can’t believe I’m standing in a fucking storm and taking the chance of getting struck by lightning to entertain this conversation. Willow gets me swept up into her world, her words, and I can’t seem to walk away. “Promise me you’ll stay in here.”
Just One Night Page 11