“Oh, just working on a couple ideas in case Tiff steals the cattle business.” She eyes our clasped hands. “The better question is what arey’allup to?” Her eyebrows waggle. “Don’tthink any of us have forgotten about Sunday dinner the other week.”
I decide to let Dallas handle that one, and I’m unsurprised when his only response is, “It’s like Momma always said—mind your own biscuits and life will be gravy. Now, where’s my kid? He’s got school tomorrow.”
We collect Ryder and use the short drive to Dallas’s place to break it to him that nobody is getting a pool and to remind him of all the cool stuff he already has. It goes over about as well as any such conversation with an eight-year-old boy does.
He hugs me good night, pout and all, and Dallas takes him upstairs to tuck him in. As they climb the stairs, I hear Ryder say, “I heard Uncle Mustache is coming home soon,” and I have to bite my lips between my teeth to keep from outright cackling.
We all saw a promo for one of the rodeos Houston was riding in a couple days ago, and it featured a photo of him with the worst porn stache and matching flowing hair. We haven’t stopped referring to him as Uncle Mustache ever since. I can’t wait for him to show up so we can see it in person in all its glory.
But Houston isn’t the Gamble brother I’m focusing on tonight. I know we need to talk some more, but I can still do that in my pjs with a beer in my hand, can’t I?
Dallas descends the stairs fifteen minutes later with a sigh. “He tried telling me that the gas money I spend driving him to swim practice will more than pay for a pool. The kid is smart, but he’s got a lot to learn about money.”
I smile and hand him the cold beer I opened for him. He takes it with a grateful sigh and settles into the couch right next to me. His eyes travel down the length of my body in the silky blue pajamas, and he leans in to kiss my neck. Goose bumps erupt on my skin, and I sigh. Is he really mine for good?
As if sensing my question, he pulls back and studies me, his mouth relaxed and his fingers absently twirling a lock of my hair. “Hey,” he murmurs.
“Hey,” I echo.
We stare at one another until we’re both wearing dopey-ass grins. Then I shift in my seat so I’m sitting cross-legged and facing him. He takes a sip of his beer and watches me. I set mine on the coffee table to focus on the man in front of me.
“So, how are you feeling? About us, I mean?” I ask.
He considers my question and sighs. “Hopeful? Terrified? Excited? Lucky,” he finally settles on.
“Me too. All four.”
“Thank fuck. You’ve been sounding so confident.”
I can only shrug. “We both know better than anyone that nothing’s promised in this life, so I think we owe it to ourselves to dive in and appreciate every moment we have.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” He sets his bottle down and takes my hands in both of his. “We’ve already wasted a hell of a lot of time.”
I consider that and shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe we just weren’t ready for each other until now. Maybe it’s all happening the way it was meant to.”
“We could have half a dozen rugrats running around here by now if I’d gotten my head out of my ass sooner.”
I can’t help but lean in and drop a kiss on his lips, the sweet man. “I don’t need half a dozen. The one we’ve already got is pretty darn great. If we happen to be able to add another one or two, that’d be gravy.”
Dallas’s smile broadens, and then he surprises me by vaulting off the couch and running down the hall.
Am I supposed to follow him? What is he doing?
My questions are answered a second later when he emerges from the bedroom with a box of condoms in his hand. He doesn’tslow down as he struts past me to the front door and disappears through it. When he reenters thirty seconds later, the condoms are nowhere to be seen and he’s making a show of dusting his hands off in a “job’s all done” motion.
I can’t help my laugh. “I’m afraid it might take more than just tossing the condoms, Gamble.” I sober somewhat as the truth of my words settles in.
Sensing my shift in mood like he always does, Dallas jumps over the back of the couch and pins me on my back. Our noses are inches apart, and I can smell the warm, spicy scent of his shampoo and the beer on his breath. “Believe me, I’m willing to put a lot of work into this project.” He tucks my hair behind my ear and lowers his head to give me the softest of kisses. “I love you, Shelby.”
“I love you too. So much.”
“Now,” he says, “I’ll be overjoyed to never sleep on this damn couch again for the rest of my life.”
“I second that.”
We manage to remain clothed until the bedroom door clicks shut behind us, but just barely. However, since neither of us is keen to explain to Ryder how my panties and bra ended up on the living room floor, it’s best for everyone.
I’m so busy watching Dallas shuck off his boxers, I almost faceplant as I remove my own undergarments.
