Deep down, I know that Dallas did nothing wrong tonight. And his attack on Ricky Callahan—itwasabout me.
Eric did such a number on me that I completely lost my way at the first sign of trouble. Granted, it was the worst I’ve had in a while—but it still rattled the shit out of me.
The words “thank you” are on the tip of my tongue by the time the gates spread open to the ranch. But I don’t say them. The other side of me is still angry. But it’s not at him.
It’s at myself.
Because I want to be more than his responsibility to keep safe. I want to be hisreason. For letting go of his grief and guilt. For believing in second chances. For finally letting his walls fall.
Mine have.
And I’m tired of pretending I can fight it.
Rose is right. If there’s a man worth falling for, it’s Dallas Thorne.
A few minutes later, he holds open the front door for me and I tense as I pass him.
I hear him exhale roughly behind me. “Willow, what the hell did you want me to do? Sit back and watch you try that high kick on him?”
I flip around, furious that he doesn’t get it. “What went through your head?”
“What?”
“When you saw me tonight. You were frozen by the door. For a few seconds at least, you were watching us. I want to know what went through your head.”
His jaw tightens. “Why does it matter?”
I shake my head. I don’t know what I want him to say or .?.?. confess. I just want to know if he was measuring how fast he could tackle him. Or if he .?.?. was looking at me.
His eyes search mine as he steps up to me and he doesn’t wait for a reason. “I just—when I saw him near you .?.?. my instinct was to storm in swinging. But something locked me in place. I’ve heard you sing that one before. It didn’t sound like that. That’s when I focused on you. Caught that stony look on your face. Your voice tight. Like you just wanted the damn song to end soitcould end .?.?. I saw red, Sunset.”
My chest squeezes. But I have one more question.
I meet his eyes. “And what did you see when you pulled away from our kiss last week?”
His eyes dip and I have my answer.
He saw—her.
23
I slam the tailgate shut, clenching my teeth as I do because the sound cracks across the quiet Sunday afternoon like a warning shot.
Shit. It’s Wilder’s truck. All I need right now is for him to pester me about damages when that’smydamn job. I huff out a breath, fisting the coiled whip, and head for the bullpen.
It’s just past the south pasture, surrounded by steel panels bolted down tight. Bruiser isn’t dangerous, just .?.?. unpredictable. It’s breeding season and Wilder and I need to do a temperament check before we turn him out to the pasture.
I step inside, watching Bruiser as he paces, his thick muscles covered in dust, his nostrils flaring. “Hey buddy.” I don’t crack the whip yet. Don’t need to. He’s not showing signs of aggression. I step toward the middle of the pen, struggling to focus when my mind keeps drifting back to last night.
Guilt ate me up all night and I don’t even know why. I don’t regret anything. I don’t regret kissing her last week. And I’d certainly never regret protecting her by any means necessary.
But I regret upsetting her. Making her feel like she’s a consolation prize. Willow’s too damn smart. Too smart and .?.?.in tunewith me. She knew exactly why I broke off our kiss last week. Why I haven’t brought it up and have avoided her like the plague.
And she didn’t deserve that.
I also regret costing her something she enjoyed because I couldn’t be mature enough to tell Ricky to step outside—andthenbeat him to a pulp.
Still doesn’t give her the right to tear into me just because I made her safety my business.
