Chapter 2

Chapter Two

D allas was used to sleeping under the stars with a saddle for a pillow, or in a barn, spread across a bale of hay while on foal watch. Hell, once he'd slept up a tree because a grizzly had decided he'd make a good meal. And while sleeping in his truck wasn't as interesting as that night up in a tree, it wasn't much better.

He had no room to stretch his legs, and his neck ached from resting at an unnatural angle. He was hungry, in bad need of coffee, and grumpy as hell. Three things he could put squarely on Vivian Bridgestone's shoulders.

He stared out the window at room number four. The blinds were still drawn, the room dark. He supposed she was sleeping, and even in this shithole of a motel, at least she had a mattress.

Dallas swore and ran his hand over his beard. He and Vivian had the kind of history that made it hard to be friends. Hell, even when they were friends, they didn't get along. The two of them had always been like water and oil. They didn't mix well. She drove him crazy, and he supposed he did the same to her. It generally led to fights, and some of those fights ended with angry, hot sex, the kind you don't forget. While others ended with the two of them saying things they shouldn't have said. Things that pierced skin and bone. Things you couldn't take back no matter how much you wanted to. That fact that they hurt so damn much meant that there was something there. Some invisible thread that kept pulling them together.

Back when they were young and stupid, they'd given in to all those feelings . Had what some might call a relationship . Or as much of one as two teens could have. That summer, he'd been eighteen and she'd been a year younger. Their togetherness lasted until the fall, when, not surprisingly, they'd crashed and burned. The end had been ugly, made worse by the fact that Vivian had up and left Montana. Her family, already left in tatters by the death of her mother a few years earlier, had never recovered. And though he had a part in all of that mess, no one had ever blamed him.

Well, no one but himself.

Some could say it was because they'd been so young, but Dallas had always known Vivian was no good for him. Same as he knew he wasn't going to be the man she thought she wanted. She pushed every single button he owned, and he pushed back. Which was why he'd done everything in his power to avoid any kind of contact with the lady since she'd been back in Montana.

This life he'd made for himself was good. He had a slice of land that he'd bought, carved out of the Triple B. It was along the river, up on a hill, a couple of miles from the main ranch house and outbuildings. He'd built himself a place he was proud of, a project that had taken years, and just at the end of January, he'd moved in. He loved his work on the ranch and the men he worked with. And when he needed to take the edge off, there were plenty of women willing to spend time in his bed.

He liked things simple, with clean lines and boundaries. He didn't like complications. Especially not when he was in the process of building a breeding program for the Triple B, one he had a share in. Vivian was a complication, and he was willing to do anything to keep her out of his orbit.

Yet here he was. She'd still found a way to screw things up for him. His Saturday night had been going well, until it hadn't. He'd been at the Sundowner with Benton and a few other guys from the ranch when she'd called, and with Bent accompanying Cherish Davis out the door, he'd done what any man would have done for a friend. Took one for the team.

Now he was stuck in bum-fuck Wyoming when he should be back at his place, in bed, and not alone. He scowled at that thought. It had been more than a minute since his last tumble with Lenora, and he'd been looking forward to some action between the sheets.

He watched an older woman amble into the diner attached to the motel, and when she flipped the sign from closed to open, he slid from his truck.

Damn, he thought, rolling his shoulders and neck. He was stiffer than if he'd ridden the entire length of the Triple B. Twice. He shook the kinks from his legs and headed for the diner. The smell of coffee nailed his senses when he walked through the door, and the woman he'd spied moments before smiled from behind the counter. Her silvery-blonde hair was secured in a bun on top of her head, and she had a pleasant, kind face. It was worn and wrinkled, but her eyes had a sparkle, and her smile was lit from inside. He bet she'd been one hell of a looker in her day.

"Hey, handsome. I'll bring you a cup of coffee in a second," she said, then disappeared into the kitchen before he had a chance to reply.

Dallas took a seat at the counter and pulled out his cell while he waited. He found a garage located ten minutes from the motel, but it wouldn't be open until 9:00 a.m. Monday morning. He did manage to find a tow truck company and arranged for them to tow the truck to the garage later in the afternoon. Two things checked off his list with only one left. It was the one thing left that made him grumpier than he already was.

"Here you go. Fresh brewed."

Dallas glanced up from his phone and smiled. "Thanks."

"Cook has the grill fired up, and he's ready to go," the woman said, reaching for a menu, which she plopped onto the counter. "I'm Janelle, by the way."

"Dal."

He didn't have to peruse the menu, because all these places served the same stuff. Bacon, eggs, home fries, and a side of grease, which was exactly what he ordered.

A few men wandered in. Some of them had clearly slept in their trucks after partying in the bar the night before. They glanced over to Dallas, but left him alone. And that was fine by Dal. He wasn't in the mood to socialize. He was thinking ahead to the ninety-minute drive back to the Triple B with nothing but open roads and Vivian Bridgestone to keep him company.

He emptied his coffee mug and sat back, staring at the coffee grinds at the bottom of the cup for so long, his vision blurred. When Janelle grabbed it for a refill, he lifted his chin in thanks.

"You look fluxed," she said with a smile.

"Yeah?" Dallas raised his eyebrows. "Don't know what that means."

"You know, like you don't know if what's on your mind is a good or a bad thing."

"You mean perplexed?"

She laughed, a sound that filled the diner up like a bowling ball thundering down the lane. "Yes, that's it." She winked. "It's too damn early, isn't it?" She studied him for a few moments. "What is it that's got you so perplexed?"

"I don't think I'm perplexed so much as…" He winked. "Vexed."

"Ah, I see. A woman, then." Janelle took a step back.

There was no point in denying it, so he said nothing. A bell pinged sharply, and she turned. "That should be your eats. Be back in a jiffy."

Janelle returned with a large plate of food, and Dallas dug in, hungrier than he'd realized. The eggs and bacon were above average for a diner, and the home fries weren't too bad either. Dallas made his way through the pile of food in no time and glanced at his cell. It was nearly eight a.m. He had a shit load of stuff to do back home, and if Little Miss Ass Kicker didn't show up soon, he'd have to wake her up.

He pushed his plate aside and rested his elbows on the counter. He had to admit, watching her take down the asshole from the night before had been entertaining. His grin widened. He bet poor old Gary was still icing his balls. He was about to ask for one more cup of coffee when the doorbell jingled. Dallas became aware that all conversation had stopped, just as Janelle filled his cup and winked.

"I'm guessing the reason for your smile just walked through the door." She tossed him a few more packets of sugar.

He glanced up at Janelle. "Tall brunette who's just noticed me, so she's got a look on her face that's halfway between sour milk and a cat's ass?"

"Sounds about right." Janelle paused and leaned closer. "She looks like trouble."

"You got that right."

The server backed away with a chuckle. "But then, so do you, darlin'."

Dallas swiveled his seat and turned around. Vivian stood just inside the door, frosty eyes on him with a look he couldn't read. He thought she might bolt; in the past, it had been her MO. But then she smoothed down the front of her coat and walked over to the counter, where she took a seat a few down from him. She was still in her blue dress and come-fuck-me heels. Still smelled good. Like wild flowers and summer rain. Two things he shouldn't be noticing.

"What can I get you, sugar?" Janelle asked Vivian. She ordered a coffee and nothing else, then turned to him.

"You stayed." Her voice was dry, a bit raspy.

"The truck's being towed to a garage in a town not far from here." There were bruises under her eyes, and he figured he might have gotten more sleep than she had, which wasn't saying much.

"I told you I would look after it."

"Well, now you don't have to."

She made a sound and mumbled a bunch of words he couldn't hear.

"You want to share?" he asked, more than a little irritated himself. If not for her, he'd be home, buried balls-deep in Lenora and well on his way to the kind of morning he deserved. An hour of extra sleep and the kind of meaningless sex that kept his gears oiled.

"I don't need your help, is all." She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead.

That irritation flared into something else. Something dark and maybe a little twisted. He reached for his wallet and pulled out some cash, which he laid on the countertop. "Can I have a coffee to go?" he asked Janelle.

"Sure thing," she replied. "I need to make a new pot, so it will be a few minutes."

"Appreciate it."

He waited while Janelle got busy making a fresh pot of java and tried his best to ignore the woman to his right. She made it impossible, of course, because the dark looks sent his way were sharp.

"Something bothering you?" he asked conversationally.

"No," she retorted. "Of course not. I'm thrilled at the thought of being stuck inside an F150 for two hours with you."

"Ram," he said.

"What?" She turned to face him with a scowl.

Dallas felt some satisfaction when her cheeks turned pink.

"Don't look at me like that," she said. Her tongue darted out and took a swipe at the corner of her mouth. A mouth that was still pouty and full. He felt a twinge down in those parts of his that shouldn't be twinging. Not for Vivian, anyway. Dallas took a beat and got his head straight.

"I drive a Ram," he said after a few moments.

"Whatever." She made a face. "It's a truck."

"But not an F150."

"Do you always have to be right?" She made a sound close to disgust. "Is that still a thing for you?"

She wasn't wrong, but he wouldn't admit to that. "You've got a shit attitude, Bridgestone. Especially considering I drove all the way out here to rescue you."

"Did I look like I needed rescuing last night?"

"You handed Gary his ass. On that count, I'd say no."

She studied him for a few seconds. "I didn't ask you to come."

"Benton did. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"Not surprising."

He raised an eyebrow at her, wondering at the hostility. They weren't friends, but he didn't deserve this.

She opened her mouth. Then slammed it shut. Then nailed him with a look he was all too familiar with. Here we go, he thought.

"I've been home for over a month."

"I'm aware."

"Why are you avoiding me?"

He considered his answer. Then thought, fuck it, she asked.

"You're a distraction."

Her eyebrows shot up at that. "Am I? And here I thought you didn't care." Her words dripped sarcasm.

"Not in the way you think."

"Really." Her eyes glittered as she stared at him.

"I don't want you in my bed."

"I guess we're in agreement on that count." She picked up her coffee mug. "So why am I a distraction?"

"You're opinionated and pigheaded. You like to fight about shit you know nothing about, and you never know when to give up."

"Excuse—"

"Or shut up," he interrupted her.

She was mad, and he kinda liked it. What in hell did that say about him?

"Who says?" she shot back.

"Pretty much everyone who knows you."

Janelle came over just then with a large take-out cup full of steaming hot coffee. He accepted it and got to his feet.

"I gave up on you," she said, voice so low he barely caught it. She looked up at him. "Best thing I ever did."

A peculiar feeling rifled through Dallas. Some kind of notion that he was on the edge of something big and dark and maybe exhilarating. He pushed all of it aside. He was, if anything, a master at compartmentalizing.

He decided to ignore her comment. "I'm leaving now, so if you want a ride back to the ranch, this is your chance."

"How long until the truck is fixed?"

She was stubborn as hell. He'd give her that.

"Monday afternoon, earliest, maybe Tuesday if they need to send out for parts."

"Jesus," she muttered roughly.

"You that scared to ride back with me?" He watched her closely. Saw the flinch and the way she cupped the coffee mug so tightly, her knuckles were white. She set it down carefully. Then tossed a bill onto the counter and got to her feet. She took a few steps, then paused. "You don't scare me, Dallas."

Her color was high, her eyes shiny, and her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, the waves silky and soft. Every single man in the place was watching her. Wishing she was heading out the door with them. He couldn't blame the poor bastards. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Beautiful kryptonite, that is. With a side order of poison.

"Prove it." He pointed to the exit.

If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man. "You infuriate the hell out of me." She practically spat the words.

He smiled and watched her push open the door.

"You two have some history, that much is sure." Janelle appeared beside him with a small paper bag. At his questioning look, she smiled. "A couple of donuts for the road. She needs to eat something."

"Thanks."

Janelle chuckled. "I'd say safe travels back to wherever you two are headed, but that might be asking too much."

He cracked a grin as he moved toward the door. "You don't know the half of it."

Dallas headed into the early morning sunshine, his steps lighter than they should be considering the circumstance. Vivian stood beside his truck, arms pulled around her body tight, as if she were cold. She avoided looking his way by studying the horizon, which gave him the opportunity to watch her covertly.

She was tired and yet, still sexy as hell. It wasn't just the permanent pout to her mouth, or the way her eyes tilted up. Or the long legs, rounded hips and silky dark tangles that begged to be pulled. It was her state of being. The way she moved. It made a guy take notice, and a man could be forgiven for overlooking the obvious.

She was spoiling for a fight, and that was going to make things interesting because Vivian got under his skin in a way no other human on the planet could.

If Dallas could get through the next two hours without wanting to kill her or screw her into tomorrow, he'd be fine.

It was like asking for the moon, but man, he was going to have to try.