I shake my head, snapping out of it just in time to find Willow wink back at Ellie as she sprinkles powdered sugar—as promised—into the dry cereal. I can tell it’s not a lot—but Willow makes a whole show of it, like she’s not leaving one flake unsprinkled.
Ellie brightens. “Yay.”
“I’ve got to go,” I rasp. “Rose’ll be here to take Ellie to school before eight thirty. I’ll pick her up.”
“Why can’t I pick her up?”
Too many reasons.
The minute a woman—who’s not Rose or Ginger and looks like the human version of Jessica Rabbit—comes to pick up Ellie, the entire town will be talking. Especially with all the moms and teachers around during dismissal. Something I can’t explain in front of Ellie.
“You don’t have a car,” I answer simply.
“Warm milk, please,” Ellie asks.
“Warm milk? Who drinks warm milk?” Willow mumbles as she pulls the saucepan up off the hook and onto the stove. “Listen, lady. Big girls drink cold milk. You’d be the laughing stock of East Village Elementary if they find out you need it heated up first.”
I slide over to her subtly. “You sure you going to be all right?”
She pours milk into the saucepan like it’s a waste. Then meets my eyes. “Don’t trust me?” she pouts.
Fuck .?.?. the pouting. And even though I know she’s messing with me, why does she look so damn good pouting?
But right now? All I want to do is give that bottom lip a good, hard nip, leave it swollen, maybe a little bruised.
“I hope you don’t plan on making that a habit—” I point to her mouth. “I don’t like it.”
I don’t give her a chance to react. I leave her with those lips parted and move toward my daughter, giving her a quick kiss on her head before I walk out.
13
“I swear, if that man grunts at me or around me one more time—I’mma flip that silly hat right off his head,” I mutter after Rose and I have dropped off Ellie at school.
I’m deflecting of course. Anything to keep my best friend from picking up the blush in my cheeks. The far-off look in my eyes. Because all I’ve been able to think about for the past hour is that heated blue-eyed gaze on my lips.
The bossiness.
It’s all so .?.?. dangerously unraveling. Every move Dallas makes seems to be a deliberate challenge to the promises I made myself. Peeling off layer after layer of the pitiful protection I have over my heart. My sanity. My self-respect.
I’m done collecting scars.
And something tells me Dallas Thorne would leave the deepest one yet.
Because for a long moment there,I liked it. The low, gruff command that sent my pulse drumming wildly.
I liked it way more than I want to.
In my stomach, between my legs. Heck, I wanted to keep pouting just for that tone to throw me over its shoulder and teach me a lesson.
Oh, he’ll teach you a lesson all right. That falling again is the fastest way to lose yourself again.
Rose smirks, turning her golf cart onto a local street. “I remember you saying cowboy hats are sexy.”
“Yeah, well, the man under yours fell all over you. Mine is a grumpy, growly, and .?.?.” I clench my teeth, running a frustrated hand through my hair, “just a big ol’ gorgeous waste of biceps.”
Rose chokes out a laugh. “A what?”
“You heard me.”
