Page 13 of Parentmoon

His head snaps back a bit, like I’ve flung an coconut at him and narrowly missed his chin. “Is that so?” His retort is rougher than the sand at our feet.

“Yes.” I’m breathless as we glare at one another. Flames in his eyes. Gasoline in mine, ready to burn him.

His shoulders stiffen, stretching his shirt over his taunt midsection. “And you know this how?”

“The night of the engagement announcement, you left to chase some skirt at the bar.”

His brows lift so high his forehead creases.

“I know all about your history with women. You’re a serial dater. And Keli told me you and Katherine were never married.” There are many things that I don’t know about the women in Dallas’s life. And there could be a perfectly good explanation for why he didn’t marry Katherine other than disliking commitment, but I’m on a roll.

“Because I fear being tied down?” His eyes narrow, expression hardening.

I cross my arms, defensive, protective. “Exactly.” The word weakens on my tongue.

Dallas startles me by stepping closer, filling my space with the scent of him—salty ocean and warm masculinity. “A man loving his child and building an empire says fear of commitment to you?”

“Well . . .” I swallow.

My mouth is suddenly as dry as the sand around us. When he puts it like that, I’m reminded of how Keli worships her dad, and he loves her. How she’s told me about his wind farms, his concern for the environment and his desire for more affordable energy for less fortunate people. But loving your child and devotion to the planet and people in general, is not the same thing as loyalty and trust with a single human being, which are two things I’d need before having sex with him.

Dallas shakes his head again, shoulders suddenly deflating. He takes in a deep breath before stepping back, adding only a foot between us, but reopening that chasm again.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Brushing past me, he heads back toward the main buildings, and I turn as he stalks toward the bar where laughter wafts across the sand. The sound is a reminder people are here on vacation. They are looking to relax, unwind, and let go a little bit.

How did things get so intense with Dallas?

And why can’t I be like those people, sluffing off worries and acting carefree?

I take a final glance at Dallas as he walks away. His back muscles straining under the pull of his tee. His butt flexing as he travels over the beach in bare feet.

He just propositioned me and I’m an idiot for turning him down.

Then again, I know what I want from a man.

I want love.

+ + +

In the darkness of a strange-to-me bedroom, I toss and turn in the king-sized bed. Without a conversation about who was sleeping where, I helped myself to the loft. The slightest brush of the sheets over my legs has me thinking a lizard is in bed with me. A shadow on the wall has me imagining the same thing. I’m too keyed up to sleep and the emptiness of the house keeps me awake.

Every sound from down below echoes upward—the icemaker, the air conditioner, a door opening.

Dallas returns through the sliding glass off the patio.

He opens cabinets and closes doors.

The couch creaks as he falls onto it.

While it can pull out to a bed, he didn’t bother to set it up.

Sigh. I stare up at the slow whirl of the ceiling fan. Earlier, I’d made a mess of things. I exposed too much of myself and laid out unfair implications about Dallas.

Michael says I spring to conclusions.

Sometimes, I did. I was jaded and it fogged my vision. I don’t trust easily, and it skews my perception.

While I want to believe in happily-ever-after, I don’t believe in it for me.