by Joanna Sims
He tasted her—so sweet, so delectable. Dallas made the tiniest whimper; this was the encouragement he needed to make love to her with his mouth and his tongue until he couldn’t stand to not join his body with hers.
“Damn it!” Nick riffled through his bedside table drawer until he found a condom.
Dallas had one hand between her legs and the other on her breast. She was breathing heavily; he could see in her face that she needed the same relief he was after.
“Give me your hand.” Nick held out his hand after he secured the condom.
Dallas put her hand in his and Nick had her stand up while he sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered gruffly. All he could think about was sinking into her tight, wet warmth.
Dallas climbed onto his lap, sank down and took all of him in; skin to skin, flesh to flesh, their bodies felt like one body.
The woman in his arms held on to him so tightly he could feel how much she needed him. They kissed, their tongues joined, rocking together, pleasuring each other as they pleasured themselves.
“Hold me tighter,” Dallas whispered into his neck.
Nick tightened his arms around her shoulders. He had loved her enough to know that she was building to a climax—and he wanted to get her there.
“Deeper,” the cowgirl demanded. “Deeper, please.”
Nick wrapped his arms behind her back, latched his hands over her shoulders and drove upward. He was so deep, so deep...
“Oh,” he heard Dallas say on a breath. “God.”
His cowgirl, who liked to whoop loudly in the show ring, was such a quiet lover. One day, he hoped he could get her to scream with pleasure.
“Come with me.” Dallas kissed his neck, his jawline, his lips.
Her words triggered his orgasm and he shuddered in his lover’s arms.
Nick held her body to him, keeping her on his lap. His head was resting on her chest, right above her beating heart.
“You’re incredible.” Nick leaned down and kissed her puckered nipple.
After they rinsed off in the shower, they came back to bed. They were satiated from a satisfying lovemaking session, and still in high spirits from the symphony. The light from the downtown buildings streamed into the large windows of his bedroom—he rarely shut the curtains because he loved the downtown lights.
Dallas lay in his arms, her back to him, her naked skin so warm and silky next to his hairy chest and legs.
“Dallas?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think you could ever live in Chicago?”
The cowgirl didn’t answer right away. She was so still and so quiet that he started to think that she had dozed off and hadn’t heard his question. But then she turned slightly in his arms, enough so she could look at him over her shoulder.
“No,” she said in a soft voice. “I don’t think so.”
Nick had been rubbing his hand from her shoulder to her elbow, but his hand stopped moving when she answered him.
“What if there were a place outside the city where you could keep Blue?”
“I don’t really know—I haven’t thought about it, really.”
Nick sat up a little. “You haven’t thought about it at all?”
“Moving to Chicago? No.”
Nick moved back so he could see her face. “I live in Chicago.”
Dallas waited for him to continue.
“My goal is to follow in my father’s footsteps and become a judge here.”
“I think that’s a real nice goal to have.”
Nick didn’t want to spend time talking in a circle—and perhaps this wasn’t the best time to broach the subject. But if not now, when?
“Do you see a future with me, Dallas?”
Dallas pulled away a little too, tugging the sheet over her breasts. “I don’t spend a lot of time looking into the future unless it has to do with barrel racing.”
“I think it’s time for us to start thinking how we can blend our lives. Yours and mine.”
Dallas seemed genuinely surprised by his move toward a commitment. “I suppose I thought we were just feelin’ things out.”
Nick had always been someone who could zero in on what he wanted without much time for pondering. He knew that Dallas was the one for him.
“Oh, I felt you, baby.” Nick pulled her back into his arms. “And now I’ve got to figure out how to keep you.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Don’t be nervous,” Nick said to her as they approached his parents’ Lincoln Park mansion.
Dallas wondered if he was trying to calm her down or himself—she didn’t feel nervous. She’d never had an occasion to “meet the parents”; the men she had dated before were nomadic cowboys whose families were often states away. She was raised by Davy to believe that “either folks like you or they don’t” and that was the end of it. She knew that she had self-esteem issues like most people, but Davy had drilled into her that no matter what people thought about her, it would only change who she was if she let it. Maybe she didn’t know much, but she knew that.
“I’m doin’ fine,” she said.
They had experienced their first “lovers’ disagreement” and she was trying to chalk it up to Nick being stressed about bringing her to his parents’ house for dinner. She had wanted to wear her jeans and boots—they were clean and dressier than her work jeans and boots, but she felt like herself in them. It was fun to surprise Nick with the dress, the makeup and the heels that hurt her feet. For her, it had felt like a Halloween costume. It wasn’t her at all.
Nick, on the other hand, wanted her to wear the outfit she had picked out with Jordan for the occasion. He explained that his parents dressed for dinner and he’d prefer that she didn’t wear her jeans. So she had changed, at his request. But her hair was back to being curly and she flat out refused to put more makeup on than mascara and lip gloss.
Was Nick being a royal jerk? Or was he just overreacting because he wanted the evening to go smoothly for her? She wanted to believe it was the latter.
“I know I already told you this,” he said as he pulled into a garage beneath his parents’ house. “But Mom can be—blunt. Try not to take offense. That’s just how she is, and years of us talking to her about it hasn’t changed a damn thing.”
Dallas put her hand on Nick’s leg. “Hey. If she doesn’t like me, that’s okay—as long as you like me.”
That seemed to calm his nerves a bit. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” The words rolled off her tongue so easily. Naturally. Truthfully.
She waited for Nick to come around and open her door; he liked to be the gentleman, so, even though she was perfectly capable of opening her own door, she waited for him.
Compromise. Nick had been talking quite a lot about compromise. Until last night, she hadn’t known that he was thinking as far ahead for them as marriage. Yes, it had crossed her mind as a fleeting thought—a whim—but she hadn’t considered it seriously. Nick, on the other hand, was a planner, and he saw her as a part of his five-year plan.
She loved him—she was in love with him—and the idea of finding a way to blend their opposite worlds was an appealing thought. One she wasn’t going to reject without serious consideration.
“Let’s do this thing.” Nick took her hand in his.
It was strange meeting Angus Brand after having known Hank Brand all her life. Angus had so many similar features that he could almost have been Hank’s twin—and you could imagine what Hank would have looked like if he hadn’t spent his life in the saddle, the harsh Montana sun as his mistress. Angus had receding white hair, much thinner and shorter than Hank’s. Angus was, at least at first meeting, quieter than his broth
er, and much more serious.
Nick’s mother was the talker of the two. She talked while she walked, she talked in between directing the many servants milling around the house and she talked rather than eating her meal. Much of what she talked about seemed like mindless jabber to Dallas—this person bought this house, that person was getting divorced from the other person and another couple just bought the most amazing yacht and wouldn’t it be great if they upgraded their yacht this year too?
Nick sat stiffly next to her eating quietly for the most part. When he was around his parents, a new Nick appeared. This Nick was stiff as a board and more nervous than a person should be around his parents. Dallas couldn’t figure it out, but it just made her feel bad for Nick. Her childhood had been unorthodox and full of upheaval, but she always knew that Davy accepted her as is.
“Dallas—that’s an interesting name for a girl.” Nick’s mother’s attention turned from her husband to her guest. “Is that a family name?”
When she said the words family name, although nothing in her face changed, her tone of voice sounded like she had just smelled something rotten. So far, Nick’s mom had been fairly cordial, if condescending in her expressions. The words that had come out of her mouth were benign. Perhaps she just needed to warm up, because there was a sharp edge to her tone now that felt very much like a pointed barb aimed in Dallas’s direction.
“It is— I’m named for my grandpop.”
Nick’s mom had cut off the tiniest of bits; Dallas didn’t know how a person could sustain herself if she put that much energy into just one itty-bitty bite. Nick’s mom looked at him with a barely perceptible quirk of her eyebrow, smiling a smile that didn’t have a thing to do with being friendly while she chewed.
“How delightful,” Nick’s mom finally said after she chewed that one little piece of food for so long that Dallas was sure that it had been pulverized. “Do you hear that, Angus? Dallas is named after her grandfather.” She laughed as if what she was going to say next was certain to be funny. “I don’t think this is going to catch on as a wildfire trend in Chicago...”
“Mom.” Nick sent a warning shot over the bow.
“He never wants me to speak to his friends,” his mother complained to her. “I should just have my mouth surgically sewn shut. Would that make you happy, Nicholas?”
Dallas put her hand on Nick’s knee to let him know that she was holding her own. Compared to living with a bunch of smelly, loudmouthed, raucous and rude cowpokes, Vivian Brand was a walk in the park.
“What is it that you do, Dallas?” Another false laugh. “I’m having such a hard time with that name.”
Dallas put her fork down and told Nick’s parents about barrel racing, her life on the road, becoming a professional, her aspirations. By the expression on her face, Nick’s mom was horrified by what she had just heard; the only reaction out of Angus, whose body was present, but whose mind was generally elsewhere, was when she mentioned Hank. Then Angus’s mouth moved from the neutral position downward into a frown, and then he drank a lot of water as if he had to wash a bitter taste out of his mouth.
The false laugh was one of Vivian’s favorite weapons, Dallas figured out quickly. After she stopped talking, Nick’s mom smiled that tight, condescending smile, laughed in that way that sounded more like an insult and said, “I am sorry—I didn’t understand a word you just said.”
“She has a thick accent,” Nick jumped in, in an apparent attempt to shave the tip off that barb. “Sometimes I still don’t catch every word.”
Dallas’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass; Nick had never once said anything about her thick country twang before tonight. She glanced at Nick, who seemed oblivious of the fact that she might be insulted by his comment. This wasn’t the time to discuss the issue with him—the last thing his mother needed was more ammunition.
That set the tone for the rest of the meal. It wasn’t hard for her to understand how Nick could be so different than his parents—hadn’t she turned out different than hers? Like Nick, she had followed in her father’s career footsteps, but that was where the similarities ended. And her mother? Who was she to judge mothers? Her mother had had an affair with a long-distance trucker from Yakima, Washington. When the judge asked Dallas and her brother who they wanted to live with, her brother picked Mom and she picked Dad. Her mom didn’t have much nice to say to her after that. Nick couldn’t choose his parents any more than she could.
“Well.” Nick’s mom walked them to the door after dinner. “I hope you enjoy your trip back to Montana. I’m sure you must be anxious to get back to racing around those little barrels.”
“Good night, son.” Nick’s mom’s face softened when she pressed her cheek against Nick’s face and pursed her lips to make an air-kiss. “We’ll talk soon, yes?”
Nick sighed heavily when he sat down behind the wheel of his car. He put his hands on the steering wheel, leaned his head back, closed his eyes for a minute and said, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Mom. What else?” Nick opened his eyes. “She was in rare form tonight. She’s my mom and I love her, but—she can be very...socially conscious.”
“I don’t blame you for what comes out of your Mom’s mouth.”
“Thank you for that.” Nick pushed the ignition button. “It’s hard to believe that Aunt Barb and my mom went to the same high school—they grew up together and look how different they are. Night and day.”
When they arrived back at the condo, Dallas went straight out to the balcony. She leaned against the railing, closed her eyes and let the breeze brush away the tension of the dinner. The city noises—the car horns and sirens—that had been loud and obnoxious to her ears her first night in Chicago had now faded into the background like a familiar, almost comforting, white noise. In this city, you never felt like you were entirely isolated. There were always people milling about at all hours of the day and night. At home in Montana, there were times when the isolation, the solitariness, of her life had felt crushing.
Nick came up behind her and put his arms around her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Dallas wasn’t entirely okay—but not because of Nick’s mother. She had been warned, so it wasn’t a surprise. Vivian didn’t approve of her dating her son, but the last time she checked, Nick was a grown-ass man. While it would be nice to have parental approval, it certainly wasn’t on her short list of important relationship deal breakers. However, she did have some deal breakers. If the person she was dating didn’t accept her thick country twang and all—that was a definite deal breaker.
“Not entirely, no.”
Nick sighed again. “I knew that this night was going to be tough on you. It was tough on me too. I don’t want my mom’s issues to make you doubt the connection we have.”
Dallas turned in his arms so she could see his face. “Your mom doesn’t like me...”
“I don’t think that’s entirely true...”
“Let’s call a spade a spade, Nick.” Dallas scooted away from him. They were too close to have a serious conversation. “She doesn’t like me. And that’s okay.”
Nick turned his back to the railing, leaned against it, loosened his tie and then crossed his arms in front of his body. “But there is a problem.”
“I don’t see no sense in holdin’ things in,” Dallas said plainly. “I didn’t like what you said about my accent.”
Nick seemed perplexed. “Your accent? What did I say?”
“You said that sometimes you don’t understand what I say.”
“Oh...that. I was just trying to—hell, I don’t know what I was trying to do.”
“You’ve never said anything about my accent before.” Dallas decided to keep on standing, and now her arms were crossed in front of her body. “I didn’t like it.”
In fact, it had hurt he
r feelings, which she almost said, and then changed the words right before they left her mouth.
Nick looked away, out to the city landscape, then down at his crossed feet, while he thought about what she had said.
“I was wrong to say that,” Nick admitted. “I’m sorry.”
Dallas heard sincerity in his voice—he hadn’t meant to hurt her. “I know I speak country—I just didn’t know it bothered you.”
Nick, for the second time in a short while, looked stunned by her words. He dropped his arms, pushed away from the railing and put his hands on her shoulders. “I like your accent, Dallas. It’s a part of who you are. And I love who you are.”
* * *
The night that Dallas had met Nick’s parents was the first night they didn’t make love since they had arrived in Chicago. When they got into bed, she just couldn’t muster the desire. She told Nick that she was tired, and she was—exhausted, actually—and he confessed that he was exhausted, as well. But underneath that truth, Dallas knew that part of the reason why she didn’t want to make love was the hurtful comment Nick had made about her accent.
She’d been picked on, in one way or another, all her life. Her mother never had a kind word—and even though Davy was a legend, he was a poor legend because he drank, gambled and squandered his money away. There was no “college fund” with her name on it—she was a poor kid who was unsupervised for most of her life—she had to make her own way. And she had made her own way—the best way she knew how. Her skin had gotten pretty thick over the years, so someone like Nick’s mom tossing barbs her way didn’t sting at all—they bounced off her alligator hide like dull toothpicks. But the rare someone she had let slip behind her tough alligator hide had the power to hurt her tenfold with an offhand comment.
The next day, Nick surprised her by taking half the day off so he could show her a horse facility he’d found in a nearby Chicago suburb. Dallas did have to admit that she was blown away by the fact that there was a place to keep horses so close to a sprawling city.