I admit it took a couple years of licking my wounds after Marcus, but I still didn’t give up.
I swallow hard and lift my chin. “If my momma and daddy could find each other, I can find my prince charming too.” What I don’t say out loud is that I owe it to my parents to settle for nothing less than the perfect love they had.
Dallas watches me for a long moment and then sighs, the lines around his mouth deepening. “Okay. If that’s what youreally want, I’ll help you. Just like I said I would last night. I’ll find your Prince Charming for you.”
I let go of his shirt and laugh for real this time. “Isn’t that going to be a little awkward now? My fiancé interviewing potential suitors for me?”
“Leave it to me, Sweetness. I’m one smooth motherfucker.” He grins, the mischievous gleam from his eyes nearly ricocheting off the walls of his entryway.
“So I’ve heard.” I roll my eyes when he waggles his eyebrows. “Now, how exactly will this work, hotshot?”
“Easy…” He crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the wall. “I find the prince, tell him all about how awesome you are and how lucky I am. We all hang out together so he can see for himself. Then, when the time is right, I make an asshole move in public, you break up with me, and Prince Charming swoops in to sweep you right out of your boots. Simple as that.”
“Sounds about as simple as spinal surgery on a bucking bronco.”
He dips his chin to meet my gaze. “Trust me, okay?”
Instead of answering, I pat his chest, snatch the nut bar from the table, and brush past him to head for the hallway. “Thanks for this. I gotta get changed. I’m going out.”
“You’re seriously leaving your brand-new fiancé at home on our engagement night?!” he calls after me. “I think I’m insulted!”
“Suck it up, buttercup!” I call back. I need my girls, and I need them STAT.
Chapter
Seven
DON’T FLATTER YOURSELF, COWBOY. I WAS LOOKIN’ AT YOUR HORSE
Shelby
“I heard it, of course, but I didn’t believe it!” Skye looks about as shocked as a pig watching a farmer eat a BLT. “OurDallas? The hound-dog-who’s-sniffed-every-female-flower-garden-in-the-county Dallas? Engaged?”
We’re sitting at a high-top just off the dance floor at Knockin’ Boots, where the house band is warming up. It’s already busy, and it’s barely six o’clock.
A single glance across the table reveals an identical expression on our friend Josie Mae. Clearly, I’m not the only one thrown for a loop by this plot twist. “How many times have I heard you say Dallas is the last man on earth you’d date? When did you change your mind? How did I miss this?”
“Iknewit!” Frankie crows from beside Josie Mae for some reason, and we all turn to frown at her. Her grin is beyond smug. The girl is delusional.
“Calm your tits, Frankie.” I plonk my beer bottle on the table and shake my head at her before leaning in for privacy. “It’s notreal. Your brother is just incapable of restraining himself from acting on his every ridiculous impulse.”
“What a shock,” Skye drawls, flipping her long, dark-blonde hair over her shoulder and bringing her cocktail straw to her lips. Since Dallas is her little brother, she’s practiced at insulting him.
“What do you mean? Please make this make sense,” Jo begs. She and I have been close friends since high school, probably because she dated Dallas’s twin brother, Houston, so we spent a lot of time together. The three of them were my first real friends as the new girl in town at fifteen.
We all lean in, and I give my friends the short version while the band starts playing in earnest and people trickle onto the dance floor. I include Dallas’s plan for getting out of this mess in the end but leave out the napkin for reasons I’m not sure of.
“Damn.” Skye is the first to speak. “I didn’t realize Shane was that big of an asshole. I’m actually kind of proud of my little bro for coming through like that. I can always help too you know.” Which is true. The woman breaks horses for god’s sake, she could absolutely take on Shane.
“Sloppy as it may be,” Jo sighs.
Frankie tilts her head and considers me. “I don’t know. I think there’s still something more to this. I mean, going from punching a guy to declaring an engagement seems a little extreme, even for Dallas.”
I inhale through my nose, the scent of fried bar food making my stomach grumble. “I promise you, there’s not. Your brother is about as attracted to me as he is to Meemaw’s Silkie chickens. Besides, you know I hate Texas. I could never marry a guy named Dallas.” I wink at her, making everyone laugh. I take a sip of my beer before continuing, “Obviously, this has to be our secret, so mum’s the word, ladies. You know how people in town love a good scandal.”
Skye mimics zipping her lips just as Norinne approaches our table, purple hair secured in a band and giant hoop earrings dangling low. “You girls ready for another round?” She turns to me. “I figured you’d be out celebrating with Dallas, Shelby. Congrats, by the way.” In contrast to a lot of people around town, she appears genuinely pleased about the news.
Norinne is a fun-loving mother-hen type who changes her hair color once a month and never forgets to ask after your kin. She and her husband, Tank, have been running Knockin’ Boots since her daddy retired a dozen years back. And by retired, I mean he now spends his afternoons selling homemade moonshine out of the trunk of his Chevy and flirting with the old ladies outside the Baptist church. Pappy is living his best life.
