I shake my head. “Dallas, I almost slipped up today. We just .?.?. need to be more careful.”
He releases a heavy breath. “You’re right,” he rasps, then looks back down at me like this whole thing is unfair. “For the sake of Ellie, maybe we .?.?. press pause.”
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until it’s my turn to speak. “Right. A .?.?. long pause.”
He steps close to me, presses his body against mine, sweeps my hair back, and snakes his fingers under my jaw. Heat flares in my stomach and the words “this isn’t what I meant” and “take me up to your bedroom” jumble in my mind. His fingers grip my chin, thumb stroking and coaxing my mouth open as he kisses me. A deep, claiming kiss. So unrelenting, I forget how to breathe.
With a soft breath, he pulls back. “But I still get to do that.”
25
On Monday evening, I sit in on Rose’s art class at the cottage. Watching her do what she does best and teaching it to the kids in town.
Today’s lesson was to draw something we love doing out in nature.
I don’t sit next to Ellie. I want this space to be her own, without me looking over her shoulder. Instead, I sit in the back, with a blank canvas of my own.
Would it be too suggestive if I drew a picture of a cowboy catching a redhead with his lasso?
I chuckle to myself.
Rose might find it hilarious—and ask questions. Lots of them. The minute I walked in here, she noticed the difference in my mood. Telling me I looked “happier today” and a little more like I “belong”—whatever that means.
Least she didn’t tell me I wasglowing.
I told her the short version. Dallas and I made up. And then broke up. Agreeing to keep things strictly Ellie-focused for the time being.
She still had that concerned-friend look on her face. And I get it. I’ve got a track record for falling for what’s bad for me. And then falling hard on my ass when it’s over.
But Dallas is the kind of man who would never want to hurt me. But he’s also the kind of man who would do it without trying.
After the kids get picked up, I hand Rose my wet canvas, where I painted streaks of pinks, yellows, and orange over a blue river.
“Oh, pretty, is this a sunset?”
“Well, it’s either that or a strange-lookin’ rainbow.”
I reach out for Ellie, who’s got her hand in the cookie jar. “Ready, Slippers? Your dad says dinner’s almost ready and it’s going to rain soon.”
She grabs two cookies and gives me her picture to hold. “Ready.”
I look at her art today, almost afraid of what I might find. But it looks innocent enough. Like a field of dandelions.
“How pretty,” Rose comments.
Ellie beams. “There’s one for all of us.”
“All of us?” I ask.
She nods. “So you can all make a wish. You, Daddy, Rose, Uncle Wilder .?.?.” she goes on. I wait for her to skip Cole, but she mentions both grandpas.
“Where’s yours?” I ask.
She shrugs and picks up her backpack. “I already made mine.”
Rose pouts like that’s the cutest thing she’s ever heard. But I know this kid better. And I’m almost afraid to ask what that little wish was.
“Saving that cookie for after dinner?” I ask, walking to the golf cart.
