Chapter 6

Chapter Six

I t was dusk when Dallas and the men arrived back at the ranch. After nine days of driving cattle down to their winter pastures, he was tired as hell, sick of eating trail food, and wanted nothing but a hot shower and his bed.

But first things first: he had a horse to cool down.

He unsaddled the big black gelding, then walked him for ten minutes or so, enjoying the quiet. The night sky was shot through with gold and red as the last rays of sunlight died, and an owl hooted from somewhere in the dark. His horse, Ranger, nickered softly, and he led the animal over to the barn, where the other men were already sponging down their horses. The animals had worked hard, and even though he was dog-ass tired, he took the time to bathe and cool his horse. It was nearly an hour later before he finally led Ranger into his stall. He tossed in fresh hay and filled his grain bucket, then Dallas headed to the tack room and hung up his gear.

He nodded to Griff. "You boys have a good one. Take some time tomorrow to recharge. We'll get at the fence repairs the day after."

"Sure thing, boss." Griff nodded toward the bunkhouse. "I think we're fixing on some whiskey with a side of poker." His grinned. "You in?"

"Hell no," Dallas replied with a chuckle. "I aim to have a whiskey neat on my porch, and that's after a long, hot shower. You boys enjoy."

He waited until the ranch hand left the barn. Once he was satisfied all the animals were looked after, he closed up and headed for the main house. He didn't bother knocking--hell he hadn't knocked on this front door since he was fifteen--and let himself in.

"Uncle Dallas!" Nora came running from the shadows and launched herself into his arms. "You've been gone forever."

His body ached down to the bone, but he ignored the pain and hugged the little girl before setting her back down. "You grew."

"Did I?" she asked, dancing in a full circle.

"At least an inch." He winked.

"You smell like a horse." She giggled.

"Well, I've been riding one for days now." He tousled her hair. "Did you feed my cat?"

She nodded, face as serious as a five-year-old could get. "Her babies' eyes are open."

"That's good." Dallas stepped back. "Maybe we can move them back to the barn."

"You can't do that." Nora looked alarmed.

"No?"

She shook her head. "They're babies."

This was a war he knew he'd lose. "If you say so. Where's your dad?"

"In his office. I was upstairs with Auntie Vivian. She has the nicest hair, and she's letting me braid it."

"You don't say." He blinked away an image of Vivian and all that hair he was intimately acquainted with. Which led to thinking about all that creamy skin. And long legs. And a mouth meant for things best left unsaid.

He doffed his boots and headed for the office, where he found Benton settled back with his feet up on his desk. The man looked stressed.

"You look like shit's about to hit," Dallas said, easing into a chair opposite.

Benton sighed and shook his head. "Might be."

When his friend offered nothing more, Dallas frowned. "Care to elaborate?"

Benton seemed to be considering his answer and then muttered, "Fuck it." He moved his feet off his desk and got up. "Daisy Mae is suing for custody."

To say Dallas was shocked was an understatement. "Bent, I…" He scratched his face. "She's been out of the picture for years. I don't understand."

"You're not the only one." Benton shrugged and shook his head, clearly of the same mind. "She makes noise every six months or so. Sometimes longer, like a year. But she's never done anything. Never had a lawyer contact me. Never showed up in Big Bend."

"She's here?"

"She was last week. Was at her sister's place for two days. Wanted to meet up, but I was in Texas with Nora."

"Is she clean?"

"She says she is."

"She's said that before."

"I know." Benton swore and walked to the window, absently staring into the night. "It feels different this time."

Dallas knew how much Benton loved Nora. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say other than that."

"I don't want to keep Nora from her mother. I've never wanted that."

"Everyone knows you're not that kind of man. She was the one who walked away, remember?"

"She has her demons," Benton replied. "Hopefully, she's managed to kick them to the curb this time. Anyway. It's my problem. I don't need to go on about it." Benton looked his way. "Everything went well with the move?"

Dallas nodded. "It did."

Benton grabbed two glasses from a drawer in his desk, then snatched a bottle of whiskey from the shelf behind him. He poured two generous tumblers and handed one to Dallas before he took up his seat at the desk once more.

Dallas knocked back the whiskey in one gulp, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. He savored the sensation for a bit, exhaled, and relaxed. "The grass looks good, and depending on how winter goes, we might be able to go easy on trucking in feed."

"I took a ride out to the pastures day before yesterday and thought the same thing." Benton grinned. "We can concentrate on Big Sky Red."

The stallion, a ten-year-old roan, was one Dallas and Benton had bought the year before. He'd cost a small fortune but would be the backbone of their new breeding program.

"I thought we could take a look at some mares coming up for auction. There are a couple I've got my eye on." Dallas set down his tumbler.

"Yeah?" Benton asked. "When?"

"Two weeks. Kentucky."

"I'll have a look at my calendar, but I have a feeling Nora's got some dance thing weekend after next. Not that you need me there. You know horses better than anyone I know."

Dallas got to his feet.

"You heading home?"

"Yep."

"I took Nora along to feed the animals today."

Dallas had already reached the door, but looked over his shoulder. "She told me the kittens' eyes are open."

"They are." Benton poked at the edge of his glass. "Viv came with me."

Dallas didn't respond for a few moments, then shrugged. "Fine by me."

"Is it?"

He turned to face Benton. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Benton's expression was thoughtful, curious even. "You two have always confounded me."

"That's a big word, Bridgestone."

Benton ignored the jab. "Back then, we all knew the two of you were a thing even though you tried to hide it. You were always sneaking off, and when she was in a bad mood, which was a lot, I knew y'all had had a fight."

"I don't sneak."

"You did when you were seventeen, because Dad would have whooped your butt if he'd have known you were having sleepovers when he was drunk off his ass."

"Just say whatever the hell it is that you want to say, Bent. I'm tired, and it's been a long week."

"She's different now."

Dallas all but snorted. "You bang your head on something? She's still ornery as hell, in a bad mood twenty-four-seven, and her tongue is as sharp as ever."

"You got all that from a truck ride?"

"It was a long ride."

"The fact that she's still here says a lot. I think that…" Benton looked conflicted. "She's going through something, and I think she could use a friend, is all."

Dallas let that sink in for a bit. "Look, I get that you're concerned about your sister, but she and I…we don't do well together. Never have." Benton looked as if he was going to add to the conversation, but Dallas had had enough. "There's nothing more to say. Vivian is one complication I can do without. We crashed and burned fifteen years ago. It was ugly, and I don't aim to live through that again."

A few moments passed, and then Bent shrugged. "Fair enough."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Dallas closed the office door behind him and pulled on his boots, muttering to himself as he did so. Where the hell did Bent come off talking to him about shit that was none of his business? Vivian was a tornado. Without her in his life, his world was calm and predictable. He liked it that way.

Pissed, he yanked open the door and strode outside. He took one step down, then paused, suddenly aware that he wasn't alone. His body, already hypersensitized, tightened, and he had to work not to clench his hands into fists.

"Long day." Vivian spoke softly, her voice riding the breeze from somewhere in the shadows.

"Long week," he replied, stepping back onto the porch. His eyes found her, there in the corner on the rocking chair. Her face was in shadow, her hair braided, a dark contrast to the white wool blanket around her shoulders. On her feet? Fuzzy leopard-print slippers.

"I saw your place."

"I heard." His heart began a slow climb, the beats coming faster than he liked.

She got to her feet and walked toward him, her movements slow and precise until she stopped a few inches away. Her scent, that subtle, sensual musk that only she had, washed over him.

For a long time, the two of them stared at each other in silence, and then, as if a decision was made, Vivian licked her lips, squared her shoulders, and tilted her head in that way she had, like she knew she was about to cross a line. Like the tornado was about to be unleashed.

"That used to be our place." Her words were quiet.

"Used to be."

A small smile rocked her mouth, and his eyes were drawn to it.

"Remember when we camped there for two days? I told Dad I was staying in town with Cassidy Buchanan."

His nod was a reply.

"I thought we would be like that forever."

"Nothing lasts forever, Viv. You should know that."

"No," she said softly. "I suppose not. But we never even tried."

"We fought all the time. There was nothing to save."

A delicate eyebrow shot up at that. "Wasn't there?"

What the hell was she getting at? "Look, Vivian. You're obviously going through something. I don't what that something is, but I do know I don't want to get mixed up in your shit again. It's not worth it." He stared right at her, remembering the darkness of their history. Remembering how easily they hurt each other. "You're not worth it. Not to me, anyway. Not anymore."

Something flashed in her eyes. Pain?

Shit. He felt guilt and remorse and regret. But he also felt anger. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound like a complete dick. I'm just tired, and you're…"

"I'm what?" she asked, moving a step closer. God she was beautiful. And crazy. And unpredictable. And hot as hell. And…

Fuck me, he thought. I want her. That notion alone was enough to shake him up. Enough to end this conversation.

"We're wrong together."

"We are," she replied softly.

He turned and headed down the steps, making it to the last one before she spoke.

"You kept it." She was looking down at him when he turned back.

"What?"

Her eyes were wide and shiny, and he noticed the small nervous tick at the base of her throat.

"The unicorn. You kept it."

"You were in my office."

She nodded. "You kept it."

Dallas watched her carefully, his mind going places he didn't want to go, his body tense, his anger bubbling. "You went into my home uninvited and snooped."

"Technically, I was invited." She blew out a breath. "Benton invited me."

"He invited you to open up drawers in my desk?"

"I didn't mean to," she said, "I just…" She licked her lips and shrugged. "You kept it. The unicorn."

Dallas was quiet as he looked up at Vivian. This woman was responsible for some of the lowest points in his life, and yet, she was the one woman he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried. He stared up at her, unsure and weirdly alive in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. As if he were on the edge of something. Something big. Maybe something good.

He stepped back, his feet on solid ground, and waited a heartbeat.

"I kept the unicorn."

Dallas turned and walked toward the outbuilding, where his truck was stored. He needed space because he had no idea what had just happened, and he was too tired to think about it.

So, he did what he generally did in a circumstance like this. He put it aside, hopped into his truck, and headed home. He figured a good night's sleep would straighten him out. And if it didn't? Hell, he'd worry about that tomorrow.