Chapter 5

Dallas

Cruising to my parents' house on a Sunday afternoon in my '68 Mustang convertible always puts me at ease. Being able to drive this car between deployments was something I looked forward to when I got the chance to come home, and now that the weather is warmer, it means I get to drive it a little more until the winter months hit.

Classic rock blares through the stereo as I pull into the driveway of the home I grew up in and shift my car in park, turning the key in the ignition and cutting the engine.

"Do you have to blare your music loud enough for the whole town to hear?" My little sister, Hazel, stands on the front porch with her hands on her hips, glaring in my direction.

"It wouldn't do anyone harm to appreciate music in its finest form."

She rolls her eyes and then steps toward me as I stand from the car and shut the driver's side door, intercepting her hug as we meet each other in the middle.

"I feel like it's been forever since I've seen you," she mumbles in my ear as I lean down, squeezing tightly before we let each other go.

"It's because it has been a while, Hazelnut. How are you? How's business?"

"Social media has been both a blessing and a curse." We walk up the pathway to the front door, sliding inside the house together.

"Staying busy, I take it?"

"So busy I need to hire a new photographer and a social media manager. I can't keep up with the demand on my own."

My little sister by nine years owns her own photography business and studio right on the boardwalk in town. She's been wildly successful since she started over a year ago, and I couldn't be prouder of her. Tourists have been a huge source of income wanting family photo shoots during their stay in Carrington Cove, and the locals support her as well.

"That's good. Just find someone you can trust."

"Easier said than done."

"Is that my favorite son?" My mother comes around the corner from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"I don't know. What day of the week is it and what have Penn and Parker done to piss you off?"

"I haven't done shit," Penn says as he walks into the room from the hallway.

"And Parker isn't here to defend himself yet, so the jury's still out on that," Hazel adds.

My mother rolls her eyes much like my sister does all the time—wonder where she gets that from—and then pulls me in for a hug. "Shut up and hug your mother."

I wrap my arms around my mom, holding her close for as long as she can stand. I worry about her constantly, especially now that Dad isn't around. During Dad's final year, I made it my responsibility to make sure that she was cared for and aspects of her life were running smoothly. Mowing the grass, fixing anything that broke, running errands while she took Dad to the doctor's office—I did what I could so she didn't feel alone.

But I still don't feel like I did enough. She lost her husband.

There's nothing I could have done to prevent that.

"How are you?" I whisper in her ear as I feel her squeeze me harder.

"I'm okay." When we part, I can see the sadness in her eyes that she's trying to hide behind her smile.

"Sorry I'm late," Parker announces as he walks through the door with his medical bag in hand, pushing up his glasses along the bridge of his nose. "Mrs. Hansen's dog had puppies, so I had to make an emergency house call."

My brother Parker is the town veterinarian, a classic hometown celebrity since almost everyone has a pet of some variety in our town. He's the sibling that always managed to stay out of trouble and could do no wrong. But it's not like he hasn't dealt with shit in his life, too.

We all have.

"Saving Carrington Cove one animal at a time?" Hazel teases as Parker lets out an exasperated sigh.

"You're not late, Parker. Come here." My mother moves to my brother as Penn and I make our way into the kitchen.

"Is Brian on duty tonight at the bar?" Penn asks as he sits on a stool at the counter.

I nod as I reach for two beers in the fridge, passing one across the granite counter toward him. "Yeah. Who else would be?"

"I was just asking. No need to get testy."

"I'm not. I just hate when you ask questions you already know the answer to," I fire back, not sure where the animosity is coming from. But the truth is, I've been on edge all week, ever since that blonde came into my restaurant.

Not even jerking off twice a day has made me feel less irritated.

It's because you're picturing those red lips when you do.

"Damn. You sound like you need to get laid," Penn mutters as he takes a sip from his beer bottle.

"I could say the same about you, Penn." The glare he gives me could cut glass, but luckily our mom breaks up what's brewing between us.

"What are you two fighting about already?" mom asks as she steps back in the kitchen, forcing us to part and move around to the other side of the island so we're out of her way.

Penn and I argue like most brothers do, but of my three siblings, he's the one I'm closest to. I guess that's to be expected when you're only fourteen months apart.

"Not fighting," Penn replies, still scowling at me from the across the island.

"Well, I don't want to listen to it tonight. I have all four of my children together, and I want us all to get along."

"You don't have to worry about me," Hazel interjects, grabbing a Coke from the fridge and popping the top.

"Yes, the princess can never do anything wrong," Parker chides as he reaches for his own beer from the fridge, sitting on the stool next to Penn.

Hazel is both the only girl and the baby of the family, so we're used to her getting away with bloody murder and never getting blamed for anything. I'm pretty sure she had the best relationship with both of our parents, too. Lord knows Dad and I had our issues.

My mother laughs. "All of you took turns being the troublemaker. You boys were just out of the house when it was your sister's turn." She shakes her head in amusement. "I never knew raising a teenage girl would be harder than raising three teenage boys."

Penn and I snicker as Hazel drops her jaw. "You act like I was a hellion or something!"

"You sure weren't innocent, Hazel," Mom says while eyeing my sister over the stove, tucking her shoulder-length black hair behind her ear. "And if you want your little indiscretions to be kept between us, I suggest you drop it," she warns.

"Oh, no. I think we need to know what little Miss Hazel was up to while we were all too busy to pay attention." I smirk before taking another drink. Hazel shoots me a daggered glance.

"Now, now. That's enough. Boys, set the table, please. And Hazel, get over here and help me finish dinner."

The three of us settle into the same routine we used to have when we were kids—I'm responsible for place settings and plates, Penn grabs glasses of water for everyone, and Parker grabs the condiments from the fridge.

When my mother and Hazel bring over the casserole dish and bowl of salad, we all settle in and start eating.

It feels right being here all together, even though a huge part of our family is missing. But I don't want to be the one to point it out. In all honesty, I don't think anyone needs to. We all feel it.

It's just easier to let it remain the elephant in the room than bring it up and risk us slipping into dark moods.

Nevertheless, my eyes drift over to the empty chair at the head of the table, faintly hearing all of the criticism that would be directed my way if he were here. I hate that my mind goes there, but it does. Sometimes the bad moments are more prevalent in our minds than a dozen good ones.

Forcing out those stifled thoughts, we eat our dinner while catching up on each other's lives. And when we finish eating, I grab another beer and step out onto the back deck of the house to catch the sunset. I hear Penn follow closely behind me.

"I need to come over here and trim those branches," Penn declares as he and I stand along the railing of the deck, staring at the overgrown trees in the yard while Parker and Hazel help my mom clean up inside.

"Yeah. I should probably cut the grass out front too."

"I know Mom's capable of handling stuff on her own, but I don't want her to feel like she has to, especially with Dad gone. I want her to know we're here for her, you know?

I nod. "I feel the same way."

"I can't believe it's been six months already."

Mentally, I knew the significance of today's date, but again, I didn't want to bring it up. And every time I think about the last conversations I had with my dad, anger steeps in my gut. "I know. It still doesn't seem real, even though we knew it was coming."

"I'm not sure death is any easier even if you know to expect it or not." He sighs, and for a moment, I remember his own experiences with death that still affect his life. I love my brother, I do. But damn, the man lives way too far in the past while his future is slipping away.

Much like my own, but I'll be the last one to admit it.

"All we can do is make sure we take care of her and don't let her feel like she's all alone."

"I agree," Penn says, sighing into the air around us. "But I feel like it's not enough."

"Seems like nothing ever is," I add, knowing those words apply to many aspects of my life, ones I can't do anything about now even if I tried.

"So, I got a job for tomorrow." His change of topic is welcome.

"Yeah? Doing what?"

"The renovations for the house on Bayshore Drive."

That detail makes my ears perk up. "Really?"

"Yeah. Seems like the new owner's looking to fix it up and sell it."

"Fuck." In the years since I left the Marines, there's only been one house in Carrington Cove I've had my eye on buying, and it's the very one Penn's talking about.

Growing up here, I used to walk by that house all the time, wondering what it looked like inside, envisioning myself living there when I was older. And about six years ago when I knew my time in the service was coming to an end, I decided to look into the house since it'd always been vacant. Turns out it was tied up in a trust with an obscure name, and the owner asked not to be contacted about selling.

I was disappointed, especially because I knew if I'd just had the chance to talk to the owner, I probably could have convinced them to sell. Instead, I've been biding my time, ready to make my move if the opportunity arises.

And my brother freaking knew about this and didn't tell me.

"Did you at least tell them I'm interested in the house?"

He scoffs. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think the owner is going to want to sell it to you."

"Why not?"

He grins mischievously, and I instantly want to punch him in the face. "Just a hunch."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I consider his response. "What aren't you telling me?"

With a pat on my shoulder, he begins to walk away. "Just think of this as payback for all of the shit you give me about Astrid."

"Penn!" I call after him before he gets too far.

"Yeah?"

"Brandon's been gone for four years. It's okay for you and Astrid to move forward."

His head hangs as soon as I remind him of why he doesn't act on his feelings for her. "Believe me, I know how long it's been, Dallas. And that's exactly why things have to stay the way they are." Then he heads back inside, and I"m left standing there turning over his words in my mind.

I've never felt so stuck in my life. And sounds like I'm not the only one. Hell, I bet all of my siblings also feel stuck in the rotation of this earth. Life has held us in place for the past year, and I'm not sure how to move on.

For me, buying the Bayshore house could be the key. Twelve years in the service has shaped me into a man that doesn't give up, but life outside of that structure is far too unsettling sometimes. There's a reason why so many vets have a difficult time adjusting to civilian life.

But I was hellbent on not letting that be me.

And even though I heard Penn's warning, it only makes me more curious about the new owner of the house that I want more than anything—the house that will help solidify for me that all of my sacrifice and hard work were worth it.

Plus, I think Penn is full of shit. I'm a charming, friendly guy with a commanding presence I know how to use when I need to. I bet I could talk to the owner and convince them to sell the house to me, save their money and let me do the renovations myself, or have Penn help me if he needs the work. So basically, everybody wins.

Pleased with my newfound determination, I go back inside the house and the spend the rest of the night with my family, absorbing the moments when we all get to be together because they are becoming fewer and farther between, even though the wheels are spinning in my head, formulating my plan to get the house I've always wanted, once and for all.

***

The next day, I go through the Monday morning delivery at the restaurant, checking in every item and helping Trent, one of my employees, put things away. By mid-afternoon, the cooks arrive to begin prepping food for the dinner service. We open at four Monday through Thursday, and at eleven on the weekends since tourists start rolling in as soon as Friday hits.

By the time the cooks arrive, I leave Brian, my other manager, in charge and fire up my Mustang, heading to speak with the owner of the Bayshore house since time is of the essence.

Penn mentioned the owner would be there today, though he didn't specify when. If they're there still, maybe he can help persuade the new owner to give me a chance to take the house and all its problems off their hands.

As I cruise down the road with the top down, I contemplate all the reasons I could give to help convince the owner.

First off, I have the money for a hefty down payment. Second, as a successful business owner, qualifying for the loan won't be an issue. Third, it's so much more than just a house to me. It's a piece of home; a familiar and comforting presence throughout my life. I figure a little bit of my backstory can't hurt.

But if none of that works, then I'll resort to extreme measures.

I'll fucking beg.

As I pull up to the house, I spot a Tesla parked in the driveway—definitely not a local. If someone in town had bought one, it would've been the talk of the town.

The obvious wealth doesn't bode well for me and my cause, but I owe it to myself to at least try.

The slam of my car door reverberates, along with the crunch of the gravel underfoot as I make my way to the front of the house. As I come around the bend, the sight of the ocean stops me dead in my tracks. Damn, I forgot how beautiful this is. It's been months since I've been by, but just seeing this view—the potential view from my own my front yard—makes me more determined to turn my dream into a reality.

With renewed purpose, I trek through the sand along the bushes that line the sides of the property and separate it from the neighbors. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight I encounter as I come around the front of the house.

A woman is walking backward up the front porch steps, waving an umbrella in front of her as she yells at a gaggle of geese. Nearly ten of them are gathered just a few feet from her, honking obnoxiously in protest as she wields the umbrella like a weapon to fend them off.

"Go! Get!" she yells, but there's something familiar about that voice that makes me pause. And the longer I watch her, the stronger the sense of déjà vu becomes.

"Back up!" She lunges forward as the geese squawk and jump backward, only to move forward again once she runs to the door, keeping the umbrella behind her as a shield.

Once I snap of my daze, I figure I might as well lend a hand. As amusing as the sight is, she seems genuinely scared. "Need some help?"

Her head snaps up, and when our eyes lock, my stomach plummets.

It's her—the blonde from the bar.

She still looks uptight, although the gaggle of geese might be partly to blame.

"You!" she spits out, disdain lacing her words.

"Me?" I retort with just as much conviction. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She twists and lunges toward the geese with the umbrella again, huffing in frustration. "Well, currently I'm trying to get inside my house, but as you can see, these geese seem to have an agenda of making my life a living hell."

My house.

Did I just hear her correctly?

"This is your house?"

"Jesus Christ! Get away!" She rushes the geese as their honking rings out and they scurry away from the house. She smiles triumphantly, but in a flash, she rushes toward her door again and struggles with the knob. "Stupid doorknob."

"Fuck," I mutter for a multitude of reasons before my feet carry me toward her, slapping her hand out of the way and then pushing the door open with brute force.

"Oh my God." She runs inside the house and moves to slam the door in my face, but I stop it with my hand before she can.

"No, thank you."

She glares at me through the crack in the door. "Again with the manners?"

"Well, I did just help you escape the geese and get your door open."

"I didn't ask for your help," she fires back, glaring at me through the crack in the door.

"Then perhaps I'll just keep the secret to getting rid of them to myself." I cross my arms over my chest, knowing I actually have no clue how to deter the geese. But hell, it can't be that hard.

"You know how to get rid of them?"

"When you live around them for most of your life, you pick up a few tricks." I shrug, feigning confidence.

She hesitates, considering my offer as our eyes lock through the gap in the door. Just then, the honking grows closer. I twist around to see the geese have gathered and are hellbent on trying to make their way up the steps again.

"Are you going to leave me out here to fend for myself?" I ask as I turn back to her.

"Why are you even here?" She narrows the gap in the door even further.

Panic builds in my chest as I see the opportunity I came here for slipping away. This might be my only shot at asking her directly about the house. Despite this woman being rude and clearly out of her element, I can't miss this chance to discuss my proposition.

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Me?"

"HONK!" The geese call grows louder as I spin my head back and forth between her and the birds.

"Can we talk inside, please?" The pleading in my voice is not something I'm proud of, but truth be told, I'm getting a little concerned about the determination of these fucking geese.

She huffs loudly, but then quickly pulls open the door. "Hurry up!"

I scurry inside just as she slams the door behind me, locking it for good measure. "I swear, those birds are predatory."

"Nah. They're probably just hungry, or not used to seeing someone here," I say just as my eyes take in the entirety of the woman standing before me, and I allow myself to do so blatantly.

She's not as dressed up as she was the other night, but even though she traded the heels for flats, she still looks all business. Black polyester capris cover her long legs that I still remember vividly from Friday night, and a lavender blouse covers her torso. Her hair is back in the same bun as before, pulling her face tight and adding to her cold demeanor even more as her brown eyes stare at me.

But her lips—they're bare this time, the softest pink that makes me lock onto them for an unknown length of time. I see them move, but don't register the words coming out of them.

"Hello?" she says, fanning one of her hands in front of my face.

Shaking my head, I pull myself together. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"I said what are you doing here?"

"Oh. Well, I guess I could ask the same of you…"

What the hell are you doing, Dallas?

You should be buttering this woman up instead of acting like an ass.

She crosses her arms over her chest and pops her hip out to the side. "That's none of your concern."

"Maybe not, but Carrington Cove is. And you made it pretty damn clear this little town is the last place you want to be. So what's changed?"

She scowls and says, "Oh, my opinion hasn't changed. But circumstances have, and it looks like I"m stuck dealing with this town and its rabid geese much longer than expected."

"First of all, geese can't get rabies. And secondly, what circumstances?" I shove my hands in my pockets, struggling to contain my frustration. I'm pretty sure I already know the answer, given the timing of her arrival and what my brother told me yesterday.

"It looks like I've inherited a project," she grates out, her eyes flashing with irritation. And, somehow, I find myself admiring her spitfire energy and the purse in her lips from irritation.

Stop looking at her lips, Dallas.

I shake my head and focus on making my case. "Well, what if I told you I could take this project off your hands?"

She twists toward me so fast, I think her head might spin off her neck. "What?"

"This house. That's the project, right?"

"Yes…" she draws out hesitantly.

"I want it." Crossing my arms over my chest, I widen my legs and stand my ground.

Her eyes bug out before a smirk flickers across her lips. "You want this house?"

"I do. And it's clear that you don't. So, if you sell it to me, it's a win-win."

"I can't just hand it over to you. It needs a lot of work." She waves a hand behind her.

"Well, you're in luck. I will take it as is and fix it up myself. I'll even pay more than it's worth. If you sell it to me now, you can get back to your big city life that much sooner."

She furrows her brow at me. "Why are you so set on this house?"

I let out a heavy sigh and answer honestly. "Because it's been my dream for years. And despite your disdain for this town, this is my home and this house is where I've wanted to live as long as I can remember. I have the money for a down payment. It's just a matter of drawing up paperwork for the loan and it'll be done. I just…" My words trail off as I search for the right words, but this woman's face stays cold as stone.

I don't see a glimmer of hope in those eyes, or in her stance—firm and unwavering. I feel like I laid my cards on the table too quickly. The silence stretches between us, thick with anticipation.

Then, cutting the tension sharply, she simply says, "No."

Just like that, she smashes my dreams. My hands fall to my sides, like a toddler ready to throw a tantrum. "What? Why?"

She stays silent as we hold a stare-off. "Because you didn't say please," she replies, her smirk erupting into a full blown, clearly-pleased-with-herself smile.

With a heavy sigh, I roll my eyes and give the woman what she wants. "Please sell this house to me."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Still no."

My patience snaps. "Why the fuck not?"

"It was given to me," she says, letting out a harsh breath and shaking her head. "And even though I do plan on selling it eventually, I'm not in the position to make that decision yet."

Fuck.

No wonder the previous owner never wanted to speak with me. This house wasn't just a piece of property; it was a gift for this woman. Now the obscure name of the trust makes sense.

But I'm not giving up hope.

"You can't be serious about wanting to fix this place up on your own. Do you have even the faintest clue how to do that?" My eyes dart around us, looking at the bones of the house and all of the potential here—potential that she could screw up by making the wrong decision or damage further with the wrong vision. My blood is boiling with frustration the longer this conversation drags on.

She narrows her eyes at me. "Again, that's not any of your concern. And a word of advice?"

My head pops up at her tone. "Huh?"

"The next time you want to ask for a favor, try not insulting the person beforehand." She pops her hip out again, arching a brow at me this time.

"You're one to talk, lady. You came into my restaurant with a stick up your ass, acting like you were too good for this place."

Definitely not going to win brownie points with those words, Dallas.

Her gaze turns fiery. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just trying to help you out, despite the fact that you and I see things very differently, we come from completely different walks of life, and under that cold exterior, you clearly don't have a heart."

Her eyes blaze with anger now. "You don't even know me!"

"I know you don't belong here," I say, and I'm surprised by the way she jolts as if I'd delivered a physical blow.

Her lips press into a thin line as we stare at one another, but she finally clears her throat and walks to the door, holding it open for me. "I think you should go."

"Gladly," I mutter. "This was clearly a waste of time."

"No. It wasn't." I turn to face her as I step out of the house. "Now I know who I won't be selling this house to when it's finished."

Fuck. "Well, maybe I'll make sure everyone in town knows not to trust the seller," I counter, feeling immaturity take over. Something about this woman makes me feel like a teenager, itching for a fight.

"Good luck with that." She flashes me a tight-lipped smile as I walk out the door, and then slams it in my face as soon as I turn to have the last word.

"Fuck," I mutter as I move away from the door, feeling her eyes on me through the windows as I walk around the porch and head back to my car, pissed off that I let this woman get under my skin yet again.

"HONK!" Behind me, geese start to gather and follow me down the gravel driveway. But hell, at this point, let them attack me on her property.

Maybe I'll sue. Maybe I'll use it as leverage. Because come hell or high water, I'll find some way to get that woman to give up this house.

And find a way to get her lips out of my mind.