Chapter 13

Dallas

"Dude, I think that counter is clean."

"Huh?" When I turn to the side, I see Penn staring at me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You've been wiping that same spot on the counter for about five minutes now."

"Fuck." I toss the towel in the bucket nearby and let out a heavy sigh.

"I take it you've got something on your mind?"

"More like someone." Penn's smirk grows wider, and I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I know. And you have every right to give me shit, but I'm really not in the mood."

"I'm never in the mood when you give me shit," he retorts.

"Noted," I grumble.

"So what did Willow do now?"

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean my hip against the counter. The restaurant is empty since we haven't opened yet on this Sunday morning, but there are several employees around getting things ready for when I do open the doors. "She ran away from me last night."

"Why?"

"Obviously, I don't know, hence why I'm over here staring off into space, idiot."

"No need for name calling," he teases. "When was this?"

"After we went up on stage to receive Dad's award." A heaviness that won't let up has been resting in my chest all day after the veterans' dinner last night. Being surrounded by the people that my dad gave so much of his time to fills me with pride, but also remorse. I almost felt like everyone in that room had a stronger relationship with him than I did because I didn't listen to his wishes when it came to the decisions I made for my life.

Despite how he felt about my service, I always admired how he steadfastly showed up for other veterans as much as he could.

My father volunteered at the Carrington Cove Center up until he physically couldn't anymore. He spoke to men who were just getting out, or who were honorably discharged, like he was. He connected veterans with counseling services, doctors to prescribe medication and help with PTSD.

He took care of his fellow Marines.

But he always had a chip on his shoulder about me being one of them.

And then there's Willow—stubborn, independent, and fucking gorgeous, Willow. God, this woman is making my brain malfunction.

Pretending to hate her was easier when I didn't feel reciprocation in this attraction. But after trying to smooth things over, it's only made ignoring this pull I feel toward her even more difficult.

When she showed up at the soccer game and I inconspicuously glanced in her direction, watching her cheer on the boys, it made my chest ache. Her smile was captivating and she was more relaxed than I'd ever seen her, except for the moments during the game that caused her to bite her nails, of course. But she looked like she belonged there, talking to Astrid, becoming a part of our community.

And when she thanked me for the scarecrow, I got the intense urge to kiss her, to press my lips against hers and figure out what sounds she would make when I swept my tongue into her mouth.

Then I dropped off the painting supplies a few days later, and fuck—that was the pivotal moment for me. Her hair was down, she was wearing that flimsy excuse for a robe, and the outline of her nipples through the silk tested every ounce of restraint I possessed in my body. With one flick of my fingers, I could have yanked the string loose that held the robe together and had her naked and exposed to me, completely vulnerable and mine for the taking.

Montages of me pulling those pebbled nipples into my mouth along with everything else I want to do to that woman have been playing in my brain for the past two weeks, and it's taken all I have to keep my distance from her. Because I know I'll give in at this point. It's only a matter of time.

Willpower is a fickle thing when there's a woman involved, and it turns out, Willow is my weakness.

And then when she came into the bar and let loose, playing darts with Harold, Baron, and Thompson—looking so settled, like she was relaxed and carefree and having fun for probably the first time in her life, a fact that was only confirmed through our conversation that night.

But it was all I could do not to stomp over to her, crush my mouth to hers in front of everyone, and then take her upstairs to fuck the animosity out of her.

So instead, I acted like an overprotective, possessive asshole, and put us back in our original roles.

But then at the dinner, something in me shifted. I admitted how tired I am of fighting her and before she ran away, I was going to ask her if she wouldn't mind spending some time together intentionally—like on a date.

I was a Marine and I know my willpower is strong. But this woman is in an entire league of her own when it comes to resisting temptation. And seeing her last night, dressed up in that skintight dress that accentuated her curves had me fighting to hold myself back from stealing her away and showing her exactly how crazy she's making me.

Willow is headstrong and tenacious with a body that was made to be worshipped. I've never wanted to smack a woman's ass more than I do hers, just to see my red handprint across her milky skin. And at the same time, I want to hold her, learn everything about her, and find out exactly what makes her tick.

I want to be the one to show her how much fun she's missing from her life.

She's the most complex puzzle I've ever come across, and I'm dying to figure out how her pieces fit together.

"Well, the night was emotionally heavy. Maybe it just took a toll on her," Penn continues, pulling me back to our conversation.

"Yeah, maybe. It definitely affected me." I stare off into space again.

"You know, I get what you're feeling, that internal battle about doing what's right or just going after what you want."

"You don't say?" I reply sarcastically.

He flips me off. "My circumstances are different, and you know that. Look, I'm just gonna tell you what I think. I think there's obvious sexual tension between the two of you, so fucking go for it. If nothing else, you'll have a way to let off some steam for the few weeks she's still here, and then you can go your separate ways. Or…maybe there's more there. But the longer this childish repartee goes on between the two of you, the more time you're wasting that could be spent exploring what's there."

Frustrated, I run a hand through my hair. "Yes, I want to fuck the woman, all right? I fucking admit it. But I feel like it would just make the situation more complicated, Penn. And I want that house, okay? That's why all of this started in the first place."

But do you want her more, Dallas?

He turns away from me, stacking glasses. "I guess you have to weigh the risks then."

"Is that what you did with Astrid?"

His head snaps in my direction. "Yes. And not that it's any of your business, but I took my shot, okay? And she turned me down."

"What? When?" I push myself off the counter, but he instantly retreats.

Shaking his head, he sighs and then walks off. "Doesn't matter. Worry about you and Willow, Dallas. I'm going to go grab some stuff from the back, and then I'm leaving early. There's a storm coming in tomorrow, and I need to make sure Astrid has supplies, and that her and the kids are safe."

Watching my brother walk away, I wonder if he'll ever get out of his own way so he can be happy. And when the hell did Astrid turn him down? I sure as fuck never knew about this.

Dark clouds hover over the water in the distance, an indicator of the storm Penn mentioned. Reaching for the remote, I turn on the television over the bar and flip to the news, hoping to get more information on this weather that is brewing off the coast. Strong winds, lots of rain, and hurricane warnings will be in effect for the next two days.

And that's when it hits me—Willow.

I wonder if she knows how to prepare or what to expect.

"Time to open the doors, boss?" Caroline, one of the waitresses asks me as she heads for the front door with the keys in her hand, a few patrons already waiting to come inside.

"Oh, yeah. Let ‘em in."

Brushing off my concerns about the tenacious blonde that is taking up way too much of my headspace, I settle in the behind the bar, prepared for a long day ahead, hoping the distraction will help time pass while forcing me to figure out what to do about Willow later.

***

"Jesus." Shielding my eyes from the rain pelting my face, I slam my truck door shut and head across the gravel to the front of the Bayshore house the next night , hoping to God Willow is safe inside—because if she's out in this, there's no telling where she might be or if she's in trouble.

Even driving over here I knew I was taking a risk, but I couldn't stand the thought of her here alone and probably scared, and ill-prepared for the magnitude of this storm.

It's ingrained in me to help people. That's all this is—my long history of being a Marine coming out on instinct.

Whatever you need to tell yourself, Dallas.

Climbing the front steps, I brace myself for wind and rain that's hitting me, turning my back to the elements as I pound on the front door.

"Willow? Are you home?" The sound of the whipping wind makes it difficult to hear anything, so I slam my fist into the door again, over and over. "Willow!"

Her face pops up in the window to the right of the door, eyes wide, mouth agape, her hair cascading around her face, looking so fucking gorgeous. The sight ignites something within me, and I know it's impossible for me to stay away any longer.

That's why I'm here, isn't it?

"Dallas? What on earth are you doing here?" she shouts through the glass.

"I—I wanted to make sure you were okay. That you're prepared for this." Blinking away the water that's collecting on my eyelashes, I see the conflict in her eyes.

"I—I'm fine. You should go!" she shouts over the lashing wind and rain.

"What?" I wipe my face with the sleeve of my jacket, which doesn't do much since my sleeve is soaked too. "Do you have a flashlight? Candles? Water? Some pre-packaged food?" I hold up the plastic bag of supplies I brought with me just in case, all stuff I grabbed from my place and the store yesterday, anticipating this visit even though I was trying to talk myself out of it.

"Of course not! I've never done this before! I've never had to, but that doesn't mean I can't figure it out." She shakes her head at me. "I've been doing many things on my own for years and will be just fine without your help!"

This stubborn fucking woman.

I could leave and let her stay on her soapbox. But now that I'm here, I'll be damned if something happens to her when I could have prevented it.

"And did you think you'd just drive down the road right now to gather those things in this storm? Because newsflash, that'd be stupider than you're being right now by not letting me in."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Goose. Now let me in before I get taken away in this wind!"

She bites her bottom lip in contemplation as anger flares in her eyes, but I can't stand out here any longer, waiting for her to make a decision.

"Christ, woman. I don't even know why I'm here!" I spin around in a circle, clutching my hands in my hair. But then, before I can talk myself out of it, I spin back to face her and dig my heels in, determined not to back down. "But fuck it. I am."

So the next move I make is one I know she won't be happy about, but I don't give a rat's ass. Her safety is top priority right now, despite my better judgment. I just hope she doesn't fight me too much.

Or maybe I hope that she does so I can shut her up with my mouth.