Emilia shoots me a hesitant glance. “Are you sure this is a line of questioning you want to pursue with your fiancée sitting right across from you, Dallas?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me.” I brush off her concerns. “If I wanted to avoid all of the women in Dallas’s illustrious dating history, I’d have to move to Portugal.” I cross my legs and settle in. “I’d actually like to see where this is going.”
Emilia pauses to assess my expression. Satisfied I’m being straight with her, she finally addresses Dallas’s question. “Yes, Dallas, we had a good time. Brief, but good.”
“See, Shelby?!” Dallas snaps straight in his chair, a hand thrown in my direction. “You act like I left a trail of devastation in my wake.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Emilia beats me to it. “Oh, I was devastated. Absolutely.” She turns to me, as if Dallas isn’t even part of the conversation anymore. “I don’t mind admitting that now that I’m happily married to Ben.” I smile because her husband of five years is a lovely man who I’m certain writes her thoughtful love letters and surprises her at her office on her birthday with a dozen roses. “Things definitely worked out like they were supposed to in the end, but I listened to my fair share of Alanis Morissette while wishing your fiancé’s dick would fall off.”
What did I just say about Emilia’s candidness? I have to bite both lips between my teeth to keep from laughing.
Dallas’s coffee mug hits the table with a loud clank, drawing our attention his way. “I’m gonna choose to ignore that last part.” But his brows draw tight at his next question. “Did I really break your heart?”
Emilia sighs and apparently decides to throw him a bone. “I thought so at the time. Just like all the others did. But, rest assured, I’m all healed up.”
“I don’t know what to say, Emilia.” His resemblance to a kicked puppy stirs all sorts of things in my chest. I should feel some sort of relief or even victory that Emilia literally just proved my point for me, but I can’t muster much of anything but affection for the doofus sitting across from me. Until his next words, that is.
“You’re a hell of a gal and quite the looker. I’ve always thought so,” is what my best friend chooses to say.
Aaaand with that, Emilia stands to go. “I’m sure my husband would agree with you. Although I have no plans of sharing this bit of news with him since he might not take kindly to another man saying so.” She squares her shoulders like the badass she is and nods. “Take care, you two. And congratulations. Good luck, Shelby.”
I stay seated, slowly shaking my head at Dallas for longer than strictly necessary.
“I don’t know what to say.” He drops his head onto his forearms, where they rest limply on the tabletop.
As his best friend, I can’t let him suffer for too long. “Aw, cheer up, Dally. At least you don’tactuallyhave a fiancée.”
He lifts his head just enough to meet my eyes. “Buttheyall think I do. Jesus, does everyone in town think I’m a monster?”
“No. Just me.” I grin. “But you’remymonster.” And there goes his head again.
“I think I need a family intervention from Houston and Ridge,” he mutters into his lap. “Those grumpy assholes couldn’t flirt their way out of an open door. Maybe they can teach me how to suck at it.”
I lean forward to pat him on the head. “Please don’t. The world needs Dallas Gamble’s signature charm and wit. Just maybe be more aware now when there could be hearts involved, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He finally straightens, a little less desperation in his expression, although those parentheses between his eyes might be permanent now. “You know, maybe being engaged will be good for me. It will break me out of bad habits.”
“Maybe it will be a good reset for both of us,” I say. “And look at it this way, you can still flirt all you want, you’ll just do it with men and on my behalf.”
This gets a small grin out of him. “Somehow that doesn’t sound as appealing. But you’re right.”
“Care to say that again?”
“No.”
We finish our coffee and put our dishes in the bus bin on our way out. The summer humidity always does a number on my curls, and today is no exception. I fight with the afternoon breeze as it whips my hair around my face while we wander down the sidewalk toward my office and apartment. I need to pick up some more things if I’m staying with Dallas longer.
The results from the lab came back, telling us what we already knew. The calves all have BRD, so it’s all hands-on deck over at the Gamble place.
“Hey, animal girl!” D’Wayne shouts from across the street where he’s set up camp today. His signature orange stocking cap sits atop his wild gray hair, despite the heat. “Tell your sherpa to bring me a slice of Meemaw’s blackberry pie next time.”
I snicker to myself and wave. “Will do, D’Wayne!” He loves calling Dallas my sherpa because, more often than not, he’s carrying something for me when we pass D’Wayne on the street. Dallas waves too, even though D’Wayne was talking to me. I’ve been “animal girl” to him ever since I found his cat after a tornado about twenty years back. Part of me thinks he has trouble remembering names, so he often calls people by strange nicknames.
Dallas and I continue down the sidewalk, and after a beat, he asks, “You know what I said about turning forty earlier? I might have lied.”
“How so? Are your boobs sagging? Is your body falling apart?” Not from where I’m standing, that’s for sure. I don’t mention that part, though.
“Bite your tongue. It’s just…I’m not usually one to step back and take stock too often, but I’ve been doing a little more of that lately. And not just today.”
