Chapter 11

Dallas

"God, you're a life saver." Parker rushes into the restaurant just after twelve, pulling his glasses from his nose and placing them on the bar next to him as he takes a seat right in front of the burger and fries I just finished making for him.

"Is the office that crazy?"

He takes a giant bite out of the burger, moaning as his eyes close. "When is it not?" he mumbles around his food.

"This is why I don't have a pet." I shake my head as I wipe down the bar in front of me. "Too much responsibility."

He finishes chewing and then drains half of his Coke. "Not to mention you don't have a place for one since you live in the apartment above this place."

"That too."

"Penn said he's working on your house, though." The lift of the corner of his mouth tells me all that I need to know—my dickhead brother told my other dickhead brother about my current predicament involving Willow.

"It's not my house…yet," I add, even though my initial desire to take it from her is dwindling by the day.

"I have to say, it's quite ironic that the owner leaves it to a woman that just so happens to get under your skin."

My head spins toward him. "She doesn't get under my skin." But if I knew who the damn original owner was, I'd definitely bombard them for more information about where the heck she came from.

"That's not what Penn said." Parker pops a fry into his mouth.

I slam the towel down onto the bar this time, scrubbing furiously at the same spot. "Penn doesn't know what he's talking about. In fact, the last time Willow and I spoke was rather pleasant."

"Oh, she has a name."

I glare at him for a second. "Most people do."

Parker squints at me. "And pleasant? Where hell did that word come from?" Then he shakes his head and takes another bite from his burger, mumbling around his food. "Nope, I think Penn's right. This woman has you rattled. Your vocabulary is even changing."

"Fuck. You."

"Seems I walked in on a good conversation." Grady Reynolds, Astrid's brother, takes a seat right next to Parker.

"And if you still want your lunch, you'll stay out of it," I reply, grabbing his burger that's already waiting for him under the heat lamps in the kitchen window.

Every Thursday, Parker and Grady come by for lunch before the restaurant opens to the public. I know what it's like to own your own business and need a break from time to time. That's why I hired Brian, my other manager, a few years ago, so I could get a break now and again and not burn myself out. And when my father fell ill, I was even more grateful that I had time to step up for my family when I had to.

Parker doesn't own the vet's office outright, but he practically runs the place by himself. The owner, Richard O'Neil, is semi-retired, only working three days a week while my brother serves the town and their pets at all hours. But from what it sounds like lately, he needs some help and another doctor.

Grady moved back to Carrington Cove shortly before Brandon, Astrid's husband, died almost four years ago. Before that, he was the classic small-town celebrity, leaving our coastal town for California to play professional baseball. Everyone kept tabs on him and cheered him on throughout his days as one of the top pitchers in the MLB. But when an injury ended his career, he reluctantly came back home to start the next phase of his life. No one will come right out and tell him, but he's been a bit of a grump ever since he moved back.

Luckily for him, the owner of the auto repair garage he worked at as a teenager was looking to sell at the time, so he took over an already established shop and clientele to pursue another passion of his. His former celebrity status obviously helps his business, but he's also made a name for himself with custom engine work and reliable service. And all of the single ladies in town just love to ask him to help with their car troubles.

"I need food, so you're on your own, Parker," Grady grumbles as he picks up his burger with both hands and nearly devours half of it in one bite.

The guy is intimidatingly large, that I'll admit.

I wonder if that's another reason why Penn doesn't want to pursue his feelings for Astrid? Is he afraid of Grady?

"It's okay. Penn seems to be keeping me in the loop and I'm sure he'll tell you soon enough." Parker motions to me for a refill of his Coke.

Grady wipes his mouth with a napkin. "Oh, if you're referring to the smoking hot blonde who inherited the Bayshore House, he's already told me." He smiles over at me before taking another bite of his burger.

"Jesus Christ." I pinch the bridge of my nose and move over to the soda machine, refilling Parker's glass before sliding it back to him. Then, I head for the ice machine, filling the bucket before refilling the steel bar well. "Good to know Penn's spreading my business around."

"How are you going to convince her to sell you the house, man?" Grady asks as I grab a box of lemons, slicing them on a cutting board and placing them into smaller steel bins.

I watch my hands, making sure not to slice my fingers off, but also so I can avoid their eyes on me. "I don't know. We didn't get off on the right foot, as you know. I'm not sure that there's much else I can do except try to smooth things over and hope she changes her mind about me."

But lately, every time we're near each other, all I want to do is trace every inch of her body with my tongue and make her shut her sarcastic mouth with my own.

I'm fucking losing it.

"Yeah, but there is one thing you could use that I'm sure could persuade her." His eyes drop down to my crotch and then back up to mine just as I look up.

Perplexed, I say, "Please tell me you're joking, or that you hit your head before you came in here."

Parker nearly chokes on his food. "Oh shit."

Grady shrugs, smugly smiling as he chews. "I'm just saying. Give a girl some good dick, and there's a lot more she might be open to."

Parker tilts his head from side to side, as though considering. "The man has a point."

I jut my chin at him. "That's rich coming from you, Mr. I'm-swearing-off-women-forever."

Parker points a finger at me. "You know exactly why I made that call, but you're not me. And if I didn't know any better," he continues, narrowing his eyes at me, "I'd say you're not keen to the idea because you actually like this woman. At least, that's what people were saying when you were watching her play darts here the other night."

Jesus, am I that transparent? Apparently the whole town can tell that I can't keep my eyes off Willow. Making her the talk of the town certainly won't convince her to sell me the house.

Maybe I need to keep my distance now more than ever.

Yeah, good luck with that, Dallas.

Grady clears his throat, his face laced with confusion. "What? I thought you just wanted her house. If you like this chick, then trying to convince her with your dick is the last thing you should do."

I slice the lemon in front of me, barely missing my own finger with the knife. Slamming the knife down on the cutting board, I say, "You two are such a great help. Thanks for the unsolicited advice."

"Seriously though, man," Grady says. "Don't go there if what Parker said is true. It's only going to make things more complicated."

"You make that sound so easy. She and Astrid are becoming friends, Penn's doing the work on her house, and I swear, every time I go out in town, I see her or feel like she's there."

Grady pinches his nose. "Then you're fucked. You might as well kiss that house goodbye because you can't have both."

"I don't want her," I lie, trying to be convincing even though I don't believe my own god damn words. "But I'm not going to be shady and use her or my dick to get the house either."

Parker chuckles. "Still the noble brother, I see."

"I don't know about noble. Just maybe his conscience has matured a bit," Grady declares just as I throw a slice of lemon at his head.

"What do you know about maturing, ass wipe?"

"More than you, the guy who just threw fruit at me."

Parker eats his last fry, tosses his napkin on his empty plate, and shoves the plate to the side. "Hey, since I'm here, I've been meaning to ask you if we're all going to the veterans' dinner together? Are we meeting at Mom's and one of us can drive, or…"

"I don't know yet." I turn to Grady, grateful for the change in conversation. "You coming too?"

He nods. "You know I'll be there. Gotta support your pop, and Astrid. Each year I wonder if she'll make it through the night, but she seems to be in a good place lately, so…" He shrugs, not finishing his thought.

"I think it might be better if we all show up together," Parker suggests.

"Yeah, maybe. But I know Hazel had mentioned driving mom separately just in case Mom wants to leave early."

Parker nods. "That could work too."

The sound of Grady's stool screeching across the floor rings out in the quiet restaurant as he stands. "Well, let me know what you decide. I might hitch a ride with you boys if that's okay—so I can drink and not worry about driving."

"Sounds good. I'll text you."

Parker stands as well. "Thanks again for lunch. I've got to get back to the craziness. Why must dogs eat the most random shit?"

"I don't know," I reply. "That's one of life's greatest mysteries."

Grady laughs. "Sure. And so is who is going to win the Carrington Cove Games this year."

Every fall, the town hosts a weekend-long competition among teams formed in the community, fighting for bragging rights and the Cove Cup. Each team is sponsored by a local business, and the winning team's sponsor gets to showcase the cup proudly for the following year. Tourism booms during that weekend, bringing in out-of-towners that spectate and cheer on each team while spending their hard-earned money at the same time.

It's one of our biggest weekends of the year, and it's a tradition that I missed when I was deployed. But last year, Catch Release's team came in second, and I've been dying to get our shot at winning first place again.

"It's going to be me this year, buddy," I tell Grady as the competitive spirit grows in the room.

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Dallas. You know I almost took you out last year."

"Key word being almost."

Parker slaps Grady on the back and turns him toward the door. "Okay, we'll have time for more shit talking later. Right now, we all need to get back to work."

"That's right! Go back to your losing team at the vets' office," I call after my brother as he flips me the bird, making me laugh out loud.

Grady glares at me once more before they leave, and then I spend the next thirty minutes finishing my prep work, all the while thinking about how I'm going to repay Penn for sharing my personal business with Parker and Grady.

But thinking about Penn leads me to think about Willow, wondering what she's up to. Our last few interactions have been so hot and cold, I swear, I can't figure out where the hell we stand with each other. One minute, she looks like she's plotting my murder, and the next she's thanking me for doing something for her—building her a chair, buying that fucking scarecrow, or bringing her a box of old painting supplies.

Part of me wants to go over there and check on her after the other night and offer to help with something around the house like Penn suggested. But I'm not sure if that would make things better or worse with her.

I don't know what else to do. At this point, I can essentially kiss my chance of getting her to sell the house to me goodbye, especially because my dick wants much more than that from her. He wants to know her on every intimate level she'll show me.

She has layers. I can see slivers of them exposed each time we speak.

She's strong, but fragile. She's fierce, but funny. She's stubborn, but knows when to accept defeat, even though she doesn't want to.

And there's something she's keeping close to the vest, a part of her I feel like she doesn't let anyone ever see.

But God, do I want to be the one who does.