Page 14 of Parentmoon

However, I desperately wanted it for my son.

Michael and Keli attended Texas Christian University, but they hadn’t met there. Keli is one year younger than Michael. TCU, in Fort Worth is a great distance from Chicago, but Michael needed to spread his wings. I feared he wouldn’t ever come home. Surprisingly, he took a job in Chicago after graduation. Keli had also taken a job in the area. They’d met at a party hosted by mutual friends in the city.

Michael is driven. He wanted to be self-sufficient before he committed to someone. He didn’t want to be like his father and me, always fighting over money. He also didn’t want to be like me, living frugally on a budget once I divorced his dad because the court-ordered child support had come in inconsistently and then disappeared the day Michael turned eighteen.

I’d worked hard over the years, moving up the chain to hospital administrator. Because of a world pandemic, the past few years had been the toughest of my career. When Michael was younger, I worked the nightshift in admissions. Eventually, I earned a college degree in twice the time it took a normal student. That degree was crucial to advancing my position and becoming more independent of Craig. Deep down, I’d always had a desire to take care of myself. Craig hadn’t comfortably provided for Michael and me financially any more than he’d emotionally supported us as his wife and child.

As for the physical side of our lives . . . at first, sex was the Gorilla glue holding Craig and me together. But as I’d boldly told Dallas earlier, sex was not enough, especially when your husband no longer wants it with you.

Then again, I never let loose. I hadn’t dated in years. I didn’t meet new people. I had a small group of friends and our occasional get togethers were enough. I was content which isn’t the same as being happy.

Rolling over in bed, I stare at the railing that borders the loft. Another ceiling fan circulates the air over the larger room below.

Maybe Dallas was right. Maybe we should have sex.

With another heavy exhale, I blow away the thought.

Dallas didn’t know anything about me. He doesn’t understand. He couldn’t give me what I really want.

When his deep snore rumbles through the house, I bite my lower lip.

Men are such simple yet complex creatures—just like a seven-inch lizard.

Chapter 5

“Mornin’ darlin’.”

The sun isn’t fully up yet, but I desperately need the bathroom. Dallas sits casually on a stool at the kitchen counter. He’s dressed in a long sleeve, sun-resistant shirt, and pants with zippers at the knees and deep pockets on the sides. On his head, he wears a baseball cap with TCU’s Horned Frog on it.

His greeting has me suspicious. Is he mocking what I’d told him last night?

“Good morning. I just need . . .” I point in the direction of the bathroom and Dallas lifts his coffee mug in salute. Tiptoeing into the private room, I close the door. I’m still leery the lizard lives in here, but I really need to pee.

After doing my business and brushing my teeth, I return to the kitchen. Dallas hasn’t moved. His gaze roams over me. His eyes narrow and the lines in the corners hint he’s about to tease me.

“That what you wear to bed?”

The outfit isn’t glamorous. I glance down at the oversized T-shirt from a mother-son weekend at Michael’s fraternity and the pajama shorts I have paired with it. They don’t exactly match.

Tugging at the hem of my shirt, self-consciousness takes over, especially since I’m not wearing a bra. “You don’t think maroon goes with pink paisley,” I joke.

“I think anything would look good on you.”

I snap my gaze up to him, surprised by the compliment. Once again, Dallas lifts his coffee mug, bringing it to his lush lips but those eyes stay focused on me. The heat in them suggests his words are open and honest. Quickly though, I brush off his statement as nothing more than a flirtatious comment. With the damage done to my psyche courtesy of my upbringing and marriage, God bless any man trying to flirt with me. I’d be a wreck at reciprocating.

“You’re already dressed.” A question lingers.

“Goin’ fishin’.” He sets his mug down on the counter. “Want to come?”

There is no reason in the world that question should have me clenching my thighs, but the way Dallas draws it out, swirling one word over his tongue in that Southern twang has a breathless yes dancing on the tip of mine.

“No, thank you.”

“Didn’t think so.” He chuckles before picking up his mug and tipping it as if finishing the morning gold.

“I haven’t been able to reach an airline agent yet, but I’ll make sure I find a flight out tonight.”

“Give it up, darlin’.” Dallas stands and rounds the counter. “You’re not going anywhere until your current ticket says time to depart.”