I’d completely forgotten the realtor my dad hired was coming today. When he’d said Jericho Barnett, I’d pictured an old man with more hair in his ears than on his head, but this is definitely not a man. This is an attractive forty-something woman wearing a tight shirt and an even tighter skirt. She shakes hands with everyone but my father, whom she apparently already knows, though I don’t understand how.
My dad starts speaking, and Jericho sits back. In my attempt to keep my eyes off Dakota, I make the mistake of looking at Jericho. A sly smile turns up one side of her mouth, and I snap my eyes back to the water bottles in the center of the table. I recognize that look from women, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been a willing recipient in the past. But not today. Seeing Dakota has officially fucked me up for a while, I already know it.
In an effort to focus on what my father is saying, I squeeze my knee under the table until it’s borderline painful. It does nothing to help me keep my attention on my dad, and now my knee hurts.
Dakota’s dad is talking, and in order to look at him, my eyes have to pass over Dakota. It’s only a second that I see her, but it’s enough for me to catch the angry set of her jaw.
“…We were shocked and excited to hear about your listing, Beau. Dakota and I have spent time learning about your land and thinking of how we can use it.” He looks to Dakota, silently encouraging her to speak for the first time since my dad and I walked into the room.
This also forces me to look at her or risk being unnecessarily rude, which later my dad would kick my ass for even though I’m a grown man.
I drag my eyes to her.God, she is gorgeous.Every bit as beautiful as the day she shimmied around in that T-shirt and short jean skirt. The blue blouse she’s wearing today has fallen open just slightly, revealing to me the tiny mole on the underside of her collarbone. I also happen to know she has a matching one next to her belly button. But as much as she resembles the woman from before, she looks different, too. There’s something about her eyes now, a dullness that snuffed out her spark. I wonder what tamed her wild nature. In all fairness, I’m not the same guy she met that day. In the years that have passed, the trauma has had time to simmer, the way a stew is always better the day after it’s cooked. The flavor of grief has evolved into crushing regret, the kind that eats you from the inside.
With fire in her eyes, Dakota squares her shoulders and glares at me, her gaze softening just slightly when she looks at my dad. “I’ve given a lot of thought to how we would develop your land should you choose to sell to us. The Hayden Ranch has only belonged to Hayden men since the ranch’s inception, and I imagine that’s a great source of pride for you. As it should be,” she adds, her eyes flitting to me for the shortest second and landing back on my dad. I wonder if this is her way of telling me she’s not interested in addressing me?
She continues. “My guess, Mr. Hayden, is that you would rather be eaten by one of the bears roaming these mountains than watch a big box store do business on land that was previously in your family for generations.”
“Sounds about right,” my dad says, a chuckle in his response. I nearly choke from shock. My dad rarely laughs, even with us kids, and the fact that a complete stranger (to him, not me) has made him have that response is something I can hardly believe.
Dakota nods smoothly. “I’m glad to hear I’m on the right track.”
“So what do you plan to develop if not some strip mall?” my dad asks.
Dakota hesitates. “I have some ideas, but I’d like to spend a little more time looking at the land in-person, and also in town learning what the people of Sierra Grande could use. Would you mind giving me a day to figure that out? I won’t have to take up any more of your time, I can email you the ideas.” She emphasizes the wordyou. What she’s really saying is,I won’t be emailing you, Wes, you crybaby who’s pretending not to recognize me.
“Don’t you worry about taking up anybody’s time, Miss Wright—”
“You can call me Dakota, Mr. Hayden.”
“And you can call me Beau, Dakota.”
You both can call me shocked. What the hell?Since when does my dad like anybody this much? I glance at Mr. Wright. He’s looking at his daughter with unfettered pride.
“So, Dakota, I was saying you don’t need to worry about taking up my time.” Dad clamps a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be Wes’s time you’re taking up, and I’m certain he won’t mind giving you a tour of the property or the town tomorrow.”
I think there was a small part of me that knew he was going to say that, so at this point, I’m not even surprised.
“Sure,” I say tightly.Sounds fun. Dakota will be imagining the ways she’d like to kill me, and I’ll be trying to forget I cried in front of her while simultaneously fighting off the erection that always happens when I think about all the other things that happened that night.
Like when she pulled me into the trees after the sun went down…
And unabashedly stripped off her clothes while I watched, and then walked into the lake…
Shit. Why didn’t I wear a looser pair of jeans today?
“I’d love to be with you on that tour, if you don’t mind,” Jericho pipes up for the first time since her late entrance.
I don’t even know why she’s here. She didn’t add anything valuable to the meeting, and she won’t add anything valuable to tomorrow’s tour either. She’s good for making the transaction official, I suppose, and as far as I can tell that’s about it. She can’t tell Dakota anything about the land that I don’t already know.
And I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a small part of me that wants Dakota to myself.
Dad looks at me. “I’ll leave you to work that out. I need to get back.”
Everyone takes the hint. Chairs scrape the floor, Dakota grabs a water bottle and twists off the cap. She turns so she’s facing the window and drinks deeply, as if she’s parched. A fraction of her profile is visible, and her delicate throat undulates as she swallows, the same way it did when she tipped the whiskey bottle to those full pink lips.
“Wes?” Jericho interrupts my blatant staring.
Annoyance flares. I look at her expectantly, waiting for whatever it is she needs to say. My jaw flexes as she stares up at me, eyes widening slightly. Her lips part an inch, and I wonder if this is a game women play… the game of,this is what I’d look like if I was on my knees in front of you.
