Page 20 of July’s Cowboy Dallas

The crowd dispersed, still whispering, but the pressure eased a bit.

Tanner met my eyes. “You good?”

I nodded, my throat tight.

He tipped his hat and walked back toward the main arena where Waverly waited by the fence.

A Hollister backing my call shouldn’t have caught me off guard. But after years of my last name feeling like a weight around my neck, it was strange to have someone offering support.

Dallas started making calls before I could process what having Tanner stand up for me meant. He stood near the stock office, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low while he negotiated replacement animals with someone on the other end. His posture was relaxed, his tone easy, like this was just another problem to solve.

My throat went tight, and this time it had nothing to do with Cody.

“I didn't ask you to fix this,” I said when he’d finished his call.

He glanced over. “I'm not fixing it for you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Holding gates.”

Those were words he'd used before… the same job he'd always done. But now they meant something different, and we both knew it.

He was right. That was what Dallas did. He held gates, settled stock, made the catch, and let someone else take credit. He'd been doing it for years. But now—after yesterday, after his hands on my skin and my name in his mouth—it didn't feel like the same job anymore.

I didn't know what to do with a man who helped without trying to control the outcome.

I knew what I wanted to do with him. That was the problem. So I did what I always did when things got complicated. Went practical.

“I need supplies from the Merc.”

Dallas pocketed his phone. “I'll drive you.”

“I can drive myself.”

“I know.” He didn't push. Just waited, keys in hand, until I gave in and climbed into his truck because arguing felt like admitting something I wasn't ready to name.

The cab smelled like him. Leather and hay and clean sweat, close enough to touch and completely off limits, and I spent the drive staring out the window like the fence posts were fascinating.

Nelson's Mercantile was packed.

People filled the aisles buying flags, sunscreen, bottled drinks, and parade candy, while catching up on the latest gossip. The Fourth of July brought the whole town out, and Ruby Nelson held court behind the counter like the queen of a very small, very well-informed kingdom.

Hades stretched out on the sidewalk near the front door, a massive gray shadow in a patch of sunlight. Customers stepped around him like he was a permanent fixture. One little girl reached out to pet him, and her mother pulled her back.

Hades didn't move. He just watched over everyone and everything with those unnerving yellow eyes that didn’t miss a thing.

As soon as we walked in the door, I saw Addison at the counter with what looked like the entire contents of the beauty section in her basket. She had safety pins, hairspray, mints, bottled water, backup earrings, bandanas, stain remover, and a ridiculous amount of bobby pins.

She glanced up as I approached, and her public smile shifted into something real. “Sadie. Tell me you're here to rescue me from my own poor planning.”

“Looks like you've got it covered.”

“I have it contained. There's a difference.” She picked up a pack of safety pins. “I’m putting together a rodeo queen emergency kit. I should've done this last week, but I was optimistic about my organizational skills.”

“Fatal mistake.”

“It always is.” She studied me for a second too long, then lowered the pins. “What’s got you twisted up today, your family or Dallas?”