by CP Smith
Dallas grinned as he raised his coffee to his mouth, but paused before taking a sip, saying, “Nic baby. . . I don’t wanna blow up your phone with texts, I just wanna blow your mind,” and then winked before taking a sip.
“Um, consider it blown,” I mumbled to myself as I watched his lips form around the side of the lid and remembered what that mouth had done to me the night before. My eyes must have unfocused during my daydream because Dallas leaned in and asked, “Jesus, what are you thinkin’ about now?” Blinking to focus my eyes, I blushed instantly then watched a knowing grin tug across his mouth.
“Nothing,” I stuttered.
“Liar,” he mouthed.
I needed to get my head out of the gutter before I made a fool of myself, I blurted out, “Since you’re here now, I can tell you all at the same time. Mother called me today and she’s throwing an impromptu barbecue on Saturday at noon. She wants all of you to come.”
“Speaking of your mother,” Dallas broke in with a grin, “Bill told me you met June yesterday.”
“I did. Is she always so forward?”
“Always,” he smiled brightly before moving his hand to my neck and lightly caressing the nape. I shivered as whisper-soft touches caused me to lean further into his side and shiver. The gentle rumble of his chuckle told me he felt the shiver and knew the effect he had on me.
So much for playing it cool when I’m around him. Pfft, if I played it any cooler he’d know I was a besotted mess. It hadn’t taken him a week to get under my skin, and at the rate he was burrowing under, I’d be hopelessly in love with him by the end of two.
“I’ll be done with work in a couple of hours. If you can hold off eatin’ until then, I’ll take you to dinner,” Dallas asked.
“Ok, I’d love that,” I answered as he ran fingers through my hair, leaning closer by the second. Oblivious to my friends watching, or even caring, Dallas seemed fixated on my mouth. He was leaning in for a kiss that I didn’t mind giving in public when his phone rang stopping his descent. Sighing, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket and scowled at the number.
“Give me a second,” he stated briskly as he stood from his chair and walked away. His brows furrowed and his eyes glittered dangerously as he spoke on the phone. I watched with interest when he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then his free hand wrapped around his neck, annoyance written all over him as he bent his head and looked at his boots. He gritted out, “I’m done and you know it, so don’t call again,” to whomever was on the other end. Anger flared across his face and his jaw ticked in agitation as the caller responded, so Dallas hung up without another word. As he made his way back to our table, his phone chimed with a text. He looked down, read the message, then bit out, “Jesus,” right before he shoved it into his back pocket.
“Problems?” I asked when he stopped by my chair.
Dallas looked down, but not at me, and I could see he was lost in thought. He seemed to stare right through me for a moment, then his eyes cleared and he focused on my face right before he shook his head no, muttering; “Duty calls. Walk me to my bike?”
“Sure,” I answered, wondering what had him preoccupied, but I knew better than to pry. It had to be work related, so I knew he wouldn’t answer.
Reaching down, he took my hand and pulled me from the chair. Hooking his arm around my shoulders, he walked us outside. At his bike, he shoved his coffee into one of two drink holders that hung from his handlebars and I giggled at the sight. It hadn’t occurred to me until just then how he got his coffee back to the station when he needed two hands to drive. Dallas leaned against his Harley, pulling me in between his legs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled as he scanned my face, his own serious as he searched for something. Finally, his face gentled for a moment as he took me in.
“It’s been a long time since I had somethin’ sweet in my life,” Dallas replied pulling me closer to his body.
“I’d like to think I’m more like chocolate covered peanuts.” Smiling, Dallas cocked a brow for an explanation.
“I’m salty and sweet.”
A slow grin pulled across those sexy lips, before he leaned in, nipped my lip, chuckling, “Considering the positions I’ve had you in I’d say you’re more like chocolate covered pretzels.”
Before I could admonish him, yet again, for being crass, he boxed in my face with his hands and kissed me until my legs were like noodles. Ripping his mouth away, I staggered back while he climbed on his bike. When he started the engine, he winked at me with a devilish grin, and told me, “Later, babe,” before he gunned the engine and drove away.
As I rounded the building, a spark from a lighter caught my attention. I glanced briefly in the direction of the man who was lightening a smoke. His head was covered with a baseball cap and his eyes covered with sunglasses. He was tall, well-built, and looked up at me when I passed, so grinned a slight hello, then forgot all about him as I walked back into Gypsy’s.
It would be much later when I realized I should have taken a closer look at that man, read the warning signs for what they were. He hadn’t smiled when I grinned at him, but had a setline across his mouth. It wasn’t indifference, I’d read in his face, but barely held back hostility I would realize later. That’s the funny thing about hindsight, when you looked back on events—it’s never around when you need it.
Fifteen
The moment he stepped into the bedroom while she took off her clothes, she’d stiffened—she knew he was there. His heart didn’t pound as he stared back at her. The thought of the kill didn’t excite his blood as it did in the beginning. It calmed him with the certain knowledge that the drug he craved would soon be at his disposal. She shook her head and backed up as she took in his mask-covered face and the knife he held. She tried to dart to the left to escape him, but his knife slashed across her back halting her escape. There was no escape from Dark Prince when he hunted you, only pain, only death.
She screamed, “Why?” when he lifted his knife again. Dark Prince cocked his head, his lips pulling in a sarcastic grin, before he uttered, “Because I‘m your master. Because you disobeyed me.”
Muted prisms of color danced across the wall as he sheathed his knife. The effects from a crystal star and the warm glow of a streetlight held his eye. Glancing down at her face, which was contorted in terror, he let the power he held over life and death roll over him. This one had been easier to kill than the others had; she’d been too terrified to fight. It was unfortunate that his adversary would soon know to be on alert. However, the thought of the fear he’d inflict, to know they’d live in constant terror waiting for his arrival, heightened his exhilaration for the game. His game, the one they brought to him by offering him the woman of his dreams, only to snatch her away. He was their master, and by right, only he could end their association as he saw fit. He chose death.
***
I decided to hang at Gypsy’s with the girls until Dallas got off work. Janeane had scurried off not long after he left going on about a hot date with a movie and a bowl of popcorn. Kristina had left next to run home and change before meeting her husband for dinner and finally Angela had to run to pick up food at the store for dinner. Alone and wondering if I should just head home and wait there for Dallas, I was stopped from leaving when Bo called.
“Hello?”
“I hear we’re having a family barbecue to welcome Dallas to the family,” Bo laughed.
“I suppose you and Finn are coming so you can challenge him to a duel.”
“I wouldn’t be doing my job as your big brother if I didn’t try and send him running for the hills,” Bo explained.
“He’s a cop, Bo; I think he can handle anything you and Finn dish out.”
“He’s held up so far, I’ll give him that much; we’ll just have to push him to the limit on Saturday.”
God save me from overprotective brothers.
“Bo, I really like this guy, can you—” my phone beeped breaking into my train of thought so I put Bo o
n hold and clicked over.
“Hello?”
“Are you at home?” Dallas inquired.
“No, I’m still at Gypsy’s waiting for you.”
“Do you like beer?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like burgers?”
“Yes.”
“Then meet me at McNellie’s in twenty minutes and we’ll eat and play a game of pool.”
I smiled because I loved McNellie’s Public House. They had the best sweet potato fries and largest selection of beer I’d ever seen.
I answered, “Ok, see you in twenty minutes,” then clicked back over to Bo.
“Bo, I have to go, I’m meeting Dallas at McNellie’s.”
“McNellie’s? If you bring me back some sweet potato fries, I’ll consider going easy on the man.”
“No way, you’re on your own if you want food. I’ll talk to you on Saturday at Mom and Dad’s.
“Right,” Bo answered, “gotta run.”
McNellie’s Public House is an Irish bar in downtown Tulsa with a limited, but excellent, pub menu and a beer selection with over three hundred and fifty choices and counting. If you like Lager, Ales, or even harder to find Lambic beer, then McNellie’s was the place to go. Built in 2004 by a fresh-out-of-college entrepreneur, McNellie’s was styled after Irish pubs the owner had frequented while on an extended trip to Ireland. Their menu was limited, but what they had got an A plus rating from me. However, the best part of the pub was the game room upstairs with its pool tables, dartboards, shuffleboard, and video games. You could eat, then go upstairs with a pint of Irish ale with your friends and ease the night away playing darts. This is what Dallas and I were doing when I heard a booming voice shout, “Yo, Nic, small world.”
The drink I’d been taking lodged in my throat when I turned around to find not only Bo standing there, but also Finn and my parents. I narrowed my eyes at the bastard, and then smiled warmly at my parents while I calculated how long we’d have to stay before I could sneak out the door with Dallas.
My father came forward first, putting out his hand to Dallas and shaking it while Dallas greeted him with, “Sir, nice to see you again.” Then he turned his bright blue eyes on me and I walked into his arms.
At fifty-eight, my father was still a handsome man. Originally from Oslo, Norway, he’d come to the states to study at John Hopkins in Baltimore, Maryland. Once he’d completed his residency and was about to return home, he decided to take one last cross-country trip with friends. Fascinated with American culture, Dad wanted to travel the Old Route 66 highway toward California. Fortunately, for mom, Old Route 66 cuts right through Tulsa and they’d stopped to rest for a day. Obviously, since Dad was still here, you can guess the rest.
He made the acquaintance of a local beauty and fell deeply in lust with her. While he continued his trip to California, he couldn’t stop thinking about the blonde-haired beauty. She’d given him her number before he left, so each night he would call when they checked into a motel. When it was time to return to Baltimore, then back home to Norway, all thoughts of leaving had vanished. Instead of getting back in the car and traveling back across the US, he jumped on a plane and headed for Tulsa. That was thirty-four years ago and they were still blissfully happy.
“Hey, Daddy,” I whispered as he engulfed me in a bear hug.
“Hello, my little one, how are you feeling today? Well, I hope.”
“Fit as a fiddle,” I replied on a squeeze.
“Good, good, my little pixie,” he replied with a smile wrapping me into a side hug. I had the distinct feeling he was claiming me in a way in front of Dallas, letting him know no matter what happened in the future between us, I was his little girl first, last, and always.
“I see you play darts, Mr. Vaughn. How about we throw some and you can catch me up on this mess my little girl stumbled into on Tuesday.”
Yep, definitely putting Dallas on the spot.
Dallas grinned and threw his arm out to let dad know he should lead the way. Seeing that, Dad let me go and moved toward the dartboard while I mouthed “sorry” to Dallas. He didn’t seem bothered by the request however, he just winked at me before he turned and followed my father.
“How are things going with Dallas?” mother whispered in my ear.
“We aren’t getting married, mother,” I replied with a sigh as I turned toward her and my brothers.
“Got any brownies left?” Finn snorted when my eyes landed on him.
“No!” I bit out then motioned toward my mother with sharp, angry eyes.
“Don’t worry about me sweetheart, your father and I acted out the movie 9½ Weeks when you and your brothers were staying with Momma and Daddy one weekend. A little food play is very healthy for a relationship.”
Finns grin vanished quickly upon Mother’s admission to sex in our kitchen. Personally, I wanted to throw my hands over my ears and singsong “I’m not listening,” but all I could think about was the fact Finn and Bo had told her.
“You told her?” I seethed at my brothers.
“I need a drink and some bleach,” Bo muttered as he walked off, heading for the bar.
“It’s not a big deal, sweetheart,” Mother laughed.
“Right, knowing that you and the boys talk about my sex life isn’t a big deal at all,” threw out.
“Don’t be such a prude, Nicola Grace. It’s a perfectly natural part of a relationship. Your father and I enjoy a healthy….”
“Jesus, mom,” Finn groaned as he walked away following Bo’s lead.
“That should teach them not to embarrass you any time soon,” Mom laughed as she watched Finn go downstairs.
“I need a drink, no, I need a bottle. Please tell me Daddy doesn’t know about the brownies?” I begged as I turned back to Dallas and my father. Dallas had a serious look on his face as my father spoke and I wondered what my father was saying.
“Why do you think your father wanted to play a game of darts?” she grinned.
Hell’s bells.
That did it; I could sabotage my own relationship without the help of my family. Whirling on my heels, I stomped over to where Dallas and Daddy were playing darts and grabbed Dallas’ hand, saying, “Night, Daddy, we’re leaving.”
Dallas didn’t stop me when I started tugging him toward the stairs, but I could hear him chuckling as he followed. When we got outside, he walked me to my car, telling me to follow him to his house. Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of a small, brick Gingerbread Bungalow with an arched porch and big windows. There was minimal landscaping which didn’t surprise me since Dallas was single and worked most of the time. His interior was minimalist as well. Way minimalistic. From what I could see, the ex-wife got all the good stuff in the divorce and left him with the hand-me-downs. A flat screen TV and one old brown leather couch and matching recliner were all the living room held, apart from the pictures on the mantle. The living room sported a highly ornate fireplace that was indicative of the houses built in the 1920’s. In fact, his home was full of architectural details that, if he had the time and money to spend, could boost his home's value and make it feel more like a home than just a place he crashed.
Dallas walked through his sparsely furnished dining room that held only a small table with a single chair, into to his galley kitchen. I followed and leaned against the opening to the kitchen. He opened his fridge and pulled out two beers popping the tops off both before turning and handing me one. As I sipped my beer, I looked around his kitchen, took in the gold appliances with matching gold counter tops, and smiled. My brothers would love to get their hands on this place.
“You live very sparingly,” I commented.
“Yep, I don’t spend a lot of time here other than to sleep, so there’s no need to have a bunch of crap.”
“Do you work all the time because there is nothing waiting for you at home?” I inquired with interest.
Dallas took a pull from his bottle, his eyes watching me closely as he swallowed. Something about h
is mood seemed different since we’d left McNellie’s and it put me on guard.
“I know now where you get your old-fashioned sensibilities from,” Dallas told me after he finished his sip.
“Sensibilities?” I laughed.
“Isn’t that what you call them in your books?”
“Yeah, but my books take place hundreds of years ago, some even a thousand.”
“It occurred to me after talking with your father that your love for all things, I’ll call it provincial, seem to come from him,” he answered drawing closer.
“Oh, God, what did he say?”
Dallas looked around his house as if he was taking an inventory, when he was done, his eyes came back to mine and he paused before answering.
“He asked what my intentions were toward his daughter. Asked if I was serious where you were concerned, could I provide for you and any future children? Made it clear that as your father, he couldn’t give permission to a man, any man, that is, to marry his daughter if he didn’t think she came first in that man’s eyes.”
Instead of being embarrassed by my father’s old-fashioned attitude, not to mention, it was way too soon for that type of talk, I was nervous. I had a feeling after that statement Dallas had brought me to his home to show me just what I’d be getting myself into being married to a cop.
“Is that why you brought me here tonight, to show me a house that isn’t a home because you work too much, that if we were to get married someday, this would be my life?”
“You know I’ve been married before. She left because I worked too damn much and didn’t make enough money to provide her with a huge home.”
“Please don’t insult me, Dallas, I’m not your ex-wife,” I replied sharply because it hurt that he’d lump me in with someone who would cheat.
Dallas scanned me from head to toe, but his eyes weren’t giving anything away. For some reason it felt like he was slipping through my fingers while I stood there, and I didn’t get what had happened in a few short hours.
“You came from money, I can never give that to you,” he stated blank faced. “You’re accustomed to the finer things in life.”