Page 17 of In Full Bloom
“It only takes one tiny moment for that to be completely different, princess. One tiny moment and you could have been killed.”
My blood goes hot in an instant when he calls me princess. Iwas wrong about the hair. The word princess is the biggest trigger for me remembering that night. I roll my eyes, hoping the heat I’m feeling inside isn’t evident on my face. “I’mfine.”
“This time, maybe,” he says, not backing down as I stalk closer. “Next time, maybe not. You can’t do reckless shit like that. What if you got hurt?” His voice drops with the final five words and there’s something in his eyes that pulls me up short. Something that looks a lot like fear.
“I wasn’t reckless,” I say, my voice lowering. “I do know when I need help. This wasn’t one of those times. If I had been hurt—ifI was—you knew where I was. You would have come to find me.”
Dallas nods, somewhat reluctantly. “Yeah,” he says, his voice raspy and god, if it isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. One simple word. It could be that he’s agreeing with me, but I think mostly it’s him in general. I startle when fingertips brush against my neck, just below my ear. It sends a shiver, and something else, straight through me. “I couldn’t stand it,” he says in that same low, raspy voice.
My breath catches.
This is not how things are supposed to go.
I was supposed to share one simple night with this hot as hell guy, then never see him again, or, worst case scenario, see him in passing on the odd occasion I go into town.
I was not supposed to see him every day. I was not supposed to stand a hands-width away from him in the stables with his fingers trailing down my throat. “You?” I whisper, because I’m fucked already so why not make this worse than it already is?
He blinks, clears his throat, steps away and drops his hand. “Me … Olivia, Violet, Sadie.” His voice returns to its normal level and reality hits like a brick to the face.
I spin around to face Scout. “I’ll be careful,” I say, focusing on detangling the mare’s mane.
“Good,” Dallas says. “Thank you. Are you free now?” he asks, as though he doesn’t know he sets my work for me.
“Um, yes. You haven’t given me anything else to do yet.”
“Right, yeah, okay. I’m going into town to grab some stuff. I need you to come with me.”
“You don’t have anything that needs doing here?” I ask, turning back to him. I really don’t want to go into town. Like, Ireally,really don’t. I may love Wildflower Ridge, but that does not mean I love the town it’s a part of.
I left Kauri Creek the last time for a reason. A reason that I can guarantee hasn’t magically evaporated in the intervening years.
“We need to pick up the farm ute, so I really need you to come with me,” Dallas says, running a hand through his hair, then sliding the cap back into place. Covering that hair is probably for the best.
Working with Dallas is fine. It’s nothing. It’s whatever. But every so often, there’s a flash of that first night that almost makes me dizzy with longing.
My first day working here, when I came down the stairs and found him in the front doorway staring up at me was one of those moments. Wearing dark jeans, a dark shirt and smelling like he did at the bar, I almost dragged him straight up the stairs for a repeat. I’m sure it was the smell. It had lingered in my house for days, even after I’d washed my sheets.
Then, there was two minutes ago, right here.
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll be five more minutes with Scout. I’ll meet you at the house?”
“You know, I’m not asking you to pull out your own teeth or anything. It’s the easiest job ever. I figured you’d appreciate a little break from all the physical stuff. It must be a bit of an adjustment for you.”
And the arrogant bastard comes back out and reminds me why I set my very clear rules around sleeping with him. Because cocky cowboys can’t be trusted.
“It’s fine, cowboy. Give me five minutes to finish here.”
He nods and strides away without another word, leaving me to finish grooming my horse, muttering under my breath.
Dallas pullsinto a parking space outside the farm supply store.
“This isn’t the mechanic,” I say.
“It’s not, no,” he replies.
“Or the tyre place. Where exactly are we picking the ute up from?”
He snickers and it makes me want to punch him. I’m still irritated by what he said back in the stable, and more than a little thrown by what happened during the heated conversation.
