But Pops would get all twinkly in the eye and inquisitive. Then he’d tell Frankie about our conversation, and she’d be all on my ass, asking about my feelings and wanting to talk it out. I’d rather she save her breath for breathing.
I eventually catch up to Ridge and the herd. We sort through the young ones and check on their condition. When neither of us finds any sick calves, we ride on, the boulder on both our shoulders a little lighter.
“You know, I think my issue is I have too much blood in my brain.”
“Huh?” Ridge looks over at me like I’ve officially lost it.
“No, no. Hear me out. I think I’ve figured it all out.” I toss back my head and laugh at the puffy clouds dotting the great big sky, high off the sheer genius of my idea. “I’ve been pretending to be engaged to Shelby, which means I haven’t been flirting or dating anyone else. I wouldn’t embarrass Shelby by stepping out on her. So, all that blood that’s usually in my dick is in my brain, and it’s messing with my thinking.”
I look at Ridge expectantly, waiting for the confirmation that I’m brilliant. I mean, come on. This has to be what’s going on. It’s certainly more plausible than being in love with Shelby, right?
But I don’t get an “atta boy.” I get an aggressive head shake like I’m a fucking idiot. Ridge slows his horse, then turns to his bulky upper body in the saddle, wrists crossed on the pommel. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, little brother. You’re gonna romance the hell out of her and see if there’s any sparks. You see fireworks and lose your head, you’ll know.”
“Isn’t that just physical compatibility? I’ve felt that way countless times for various women.”
Ridge grins at me, and it’s nice to know he still has the muscle capacity for it. “Nah. There’s a difference. Do what I said, and if it feels like every other woman, then you know it’s not love.”
I roll that around in my brain. “You know what? You’re kind of smart.”
Ridge clicks at his horse again, calling over his shoulder as they take off, “Don’t you fuckin’ forget it.”
The front door slams shut just after seven. I rush out of the kitchen and have to press my fist to my mouth. Shelby’s bent over, pulling off her clean boots at the entryway, looking hot as hell in skin-tight Levi’s, a work shirt, and her hair a mass of curls around her shoulders.
“Sorry I’m late!” she calls, not realizing I’m behind her.
I could so easily slide my hands up those hips and pull her into me. I’m already hard just thinking about it. Dropping myfist, I force myself to focus. I have a plan in place for tonight. I gotta figure things out before it gets awkward between us.
“Welcome home.” I walk closer, and as she straightens, I hold my hand out to her. She takes it, looking at me with questions in her eyes. “I’ve got a bubble bath all set up. You’ve got just enough time to enjoy that before the spaghetti and French bread are done.”
“What’s all this?” Shelby asks, cheeks flushed and expression hesitant. Like spaghetti is something to be excited about. Sadly, it’s about the only thing I can make from scratch that doesn’t taste like shit. Ryder gets spaghetti twice a week when he’s with me, poor guy.
I shrug. “You said yesterday you haven’t been sleeping well. Figured I’d show you the domesticated side of Dallas Gamble.”
Shelby laughs but lets me lead her to the bathroom where the steam from the bath has fogged up the mirror. She gasps at the mountain of bubbles. “Did you use the whole bottle?”
I glance over her shoulder. Huh. Yeah, those are kind of high, now that she mentions it. She might not even be able to see above them once she sinks into the tub. “Ryder doesn’t really do bubbles. I wasn’t sure how much to put in.” I scratch the back of my neck. “So, youdon’tuse the whole bottle?”
Her tinkling laugh is my answer. She stares at me. I stare at her, mesmerized by her lips stretched into the prettiest smile I’ve seen. And then her smile drops.
“Well, get out now, Dally!”
I startle, backing out the door. “Sorry. Yeah, enjoy. I’ll go get supper ready.”
She shuts the door in my face, and I run a hand over my five o’clock shadow.Jesus. Get your shit together, Gamble.I’m feeling more and more like the idiot Ridge thinks I am. I stand there until I hear a splash, and then my brain conjures a scenethat has me adjusting my jeans. I dart away from the bathroom and into the kitchen to distract myself.
I’m just stirring the spaghetti in the big pot one last time when Shelby appears in sweatpants and a tank top, hair piled high on top of her head, a few loose strands hanging in her face. I notice her big toe has a chip in the red polish. I make a mental note to paint her toes tonight while we watch a show before bed. She doesn’t paint her fingernails because of her work, so she makes a special effort to keep her toes polished. Always has.
“Ready to eat?” I ask, turning back to throw food in a bowl for Nelly so he’ll let us eat in peace.
The oven timer goes off. Shelby grabs the oven mitt before I can, and then she’s bending over again. My gaze goes straight to her curvy backside. Hell, not even a pair of sweats can hide her beauty.
Suddenly, I’m not hungry for food at all. I had a plan for tonight, but now I’m throwing that out the window. I need to put Ridge’s idea to the test. Shelby sets the bread on the stovetop and pulls off the mitt. When she spins around, I grab her by the hips and move her into the center of the room, away from the hot surfaces.
“Alexa, play ‘We Danced’ by Brad Paisley.”
Shelby gasps, startled by how close I’ve gotten or by the song choice, I’m not sure. The music starts to play, and I pull her into a slow dance. She drops her forehead to my chest.
“Dallas,” she murmurs, voice thick.
