Willow

If Dallas believes I’m calm, I’ll be asking Stella for a job tomorrow because I deserve an Emmy.

I’m doing everything in my power not to freak out right now.

We’ve shared a bed before.

Granted, we fucked each other, but no alcohol will be present tonight. We’ll keep our hands to ourselves and build a pillow wall to separate us, and everything will be okay.

No touching. No sex. Fingers crossed he won’t freak out tomorrow morning and leave me stranded.

On the bright side, we can’t do anything stupid enough to make a baby again.

Shit. Babies. My mind still hasn’t wrapped around that.

Dallas plays with the room key in his hand, circling it around his thick fingers, while we stand in front of room 206.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

This seems to be our go-to question.

“That we have no other choice,” I answer, signaling to the door in a hurry-it-up gesture. “This is our only option unless we decide to be a pain in the ass and have someone pick us up, and then they’ll have to drive you back tomorrow to get your truck.” I scowl at the door like it’s my worst enemy. “Open sesame. Let’s do this.”

He obliges in what seems like slow motion while I look around. It’s not exactly the Ritz, but I don’t see any vermin running about, so that’s a plus.

As Harriet pointed out with her stupid, smug smile, which I wanted to slap off, there’s only one bed. What she failed to mention was that she’s a liar because the bed is not a queen. It’s a full, which means I have even less room to build my cockblocking fort. I briefly wonder if Dallas would be opposed to sleeping in the bathtub.

It’s a standard room with a fake-wood-paneled bed topped with a generic comforter, a desk complete with a Bible and phone, and an older flat screen TV. I shuffle into the room, as if I were on my way to lethal injection, and Dallas stands in the doorway, his hypnotic eyes trained on me.

I sit on the edge of the bed and chew on my nails. “Oh, shit,” I say. “Where’s, uh … Maven?”

This is only now hitting me. Jesus, am I going to be one of those mothers who forgets her kids at the supermarket?

He chuckles while stepping into the room, and I tense at the sound of the door clicking shut. It’s official. We’re slumber-partying it up.

“I didn’t forget about my daughter, if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s spending the week at summer camp,” he answers.

“Camp? Like on The Parent Trap? That’s a real thing?”

“It looked real when I dropped her off.” He tosses the key on the desk.

What hotel still uses actual keys these days?

“Which side of the bed do you want?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He points his chin at where I’m sitting. “I’ll take that side. It’s closer to the door, and you’ll be closer to the bathroom.”

He opens up the desk drawer, shuffles a few papers around, and shuts it. His next destination is the nightstand. He does the same thing and drags out a piece of paper ripped on both sides.

He blows out a breath. “Room service menu is tempting.”

My stomach growls at the mention of food. I’m eating for three, and my appetite hasn’t done anything to make me doubt it.

“I’m apologizing in advance for not feeding you quality tacos, but you have some superior choices here.”

I bet. “And what would those be?”

He starts to read them off while fighting to keep a straight face. “Ramen noodles—”

“There’s no way it says that,” I interrupt.

“I’m not shitting you.” He holds out the wrinkled piece of paper for me to read. Sure enough, ramen noodles is on there. “The other world-class options include grilled cheese, corn dogs, tomato soup, and sloppy joes.” He frowns. “I’m not a picky person, but none of these sound exactly appetizing.”

I agree. “So many options, such a small stomach.” That’s not exactly true.

The bed descends when he sits next to me. “Again, I’m sorry about this.”

“Don’t be. This will be a good story to tell our kids one day.”

He smacks the paper. “So, what’ll it be?”

“A corn dog might be my safest option.”

“I owe you plenty of taco nights after this,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Fucking corn dogs.”

“Hey now, I have nothing against corn dogs.”

He doesn’t need to feel guilty about this. Shit happens that’s out of your control sometimes. It’s not like he planned to get a flat in the middle of nowhere.

He hands me the paper. “Anything else you want?”

I skim my finger down the page. “Might as well add some French fries while you’re at it.”

“Got it.” He gets up from the bed and picks up the phone connected to the wall with a cord. “Room service, please.” He orders my food and throws in ramen noodles for himself.

My stomach grumbles again, and I throw a pillow to get his attention, smacking him in the head. “I’ll take some of those, too!”

He nods, rubbing his head. “Make that two ramen noodles.” He hangs up. “Dinner is ordered. Get comfortable. I’ll grab some drinks from the vending machine I spotted on our way in.”

He snatches the keys from the desk, and I pull my phone out of my purse to see three missed calls and texts from Stella, asking how things are going and when I’ll be back in town.

Me: Not until tomorrow. This is me officially calling in late. We’re stranded because of a flat.

My phone beeps seconds later.

Stella: Stranded where?

Me: Neverland, for all I know. I’d say thirty minutes from the auction. Doubt it’s on a map.

Stella: You need us to pick you up?

Me: No. Dallas got us to a motel. We’re okay for the night.

My phone abruptly rings.

“Hello?”

“You’re staying the night together?” she shrieks. “This is the best day ever.”

“You damn liar!” I hear Hudson yell in the background. “You told me the same thing last night when I made you orgasm four times in a row.”

“Ignore him,” she mutters. “Sooo … what are you guys doing?”

“Dallas is raiding the vending machine, and I’m sitting on the bed. No excitement over here.” My response is along the lines of pathetic.

“You can always make it exciting.”

I sigh. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Call us if you change your mind and need a ride.”

“I will. See you tomorrow.”

“Damn straight you will. I’ll be sitting on your doorstep, waiting to drag every detail out of you.”

As I’m ending the call, Dallas walks in with drinks in his hand and a duffel bag draped over his shoulder. He sets the cans on the desk to hold up the bag on display.

“You didn’t take me up on my clothes offer earlier, but I keep my gym bag in my truck. You need something to sleep in?”

“Are they dirty or clean gym clothes?” Not that it matters. I’ll gladly sleep in anything that smells like him—dirty, bloody, stained, you name it.

“Filthy. Dirty. Sweaty.” He chuckles, and I fake a horrified look. “I’m kidding.”

I blush at the thoughts running through my head. “I know.”

He drops the bag next to me on the bed and starts to rummage through it. “What’s your preference? Pants? Shorts?”

“Shorts, please.”

He holds up a pair of blue shorts with a red stripes down the sides. “These okay?” He pulls out a T-shirt next.

“They’ll work.” I play with the fabric in my hand when he hands them to me. “I’ll go, uh … change in the bathroom.”

I’m getting my pervert on when I shut the door behind me and smell his shorts. Fresh linen. I never knew what that smell was until my mom bought me the scented candle for Christmas. It was my favorite scent until I got a whiff of Dallas’s fresh linen.

Even with my growing stomach, I have to tie the drawstring tight around my waist to keep the shorts from falling to my ankles. I grab the shirt and contemplate taking off my bra. It’s usually the first thing I dispose of when I walk through the front door, but I’m not alone.

I unsnap it, snap it back, hesitate, and decide to leave it on. I pull the shirt over my head and pause to take in my reflection in the mirror before going back out. I grimace and smooth my hands over my hair. Rain turns it into a frizzy mess.

“Dinner is served,” Dallas announces when I walk out. “It didn’t take them long to microwave it.”

I laugh. “Gourmet ramen at its finest.”

He scoots out the desk chair, so I can sit down, and he places the corn dog, French fries, and the Styrofoam bowl of noodles in front of me.

“I lived off this stuff when I moved to LA and was looking for a job. Hell, even after I found a job, I ate it more than I should have because I was lazy.” I grin and kick his foot when he sits down on the bed. “Meanwhile, your lucky ass got to live in Stella’s guest suite that was complete with a gourmet chef.”

He hooks his thumb toward his bowl. “This might be giving him some competition, and don’t act like Stella didn’t invite you to move in every month.”

“That’s true, but I wanted my own place, you know? My own space. Believe it or not, I’m an introvert at heart.”

Stella also despised Brett, and they couldn’t be in the same room for five seconds without wanting to rip each other apart.

“Makes two of us. Lucy was the extrovert to my introvert. She could make conversation with anyone in the room. Me? I was cool with standing to the side and people-watching.”

I stiffen in my seat. Lucy. Her name always sends a bolt of mixed emotions through me.

Guilt from sleeping with Dallas. Jealousy that she was the one he adored, the woman he loved and shared a bed with without freaking out in the morning.

I nod and slurp a noodle into my mouth, attempting to appear relaxed. Dallas sets his bowl on the nightstand and slides to the edge of the bed until he’s only inches from me. I slurp my noodles louder and faster, sounding obnoxious, and act like I don’t notice how close he is.

He stays quiet until I swallow down my bite. “I was in a dark place then.”

I drop my spoon into the bowl. “What?” Why is he bringing this up? Abort mission. Please.

“That morning. Hell, for months.”

I fish the spoon out of the bowl, and my heart sinks at the pained expression on his face.

“Sometimes, I still am.” He scrubs his hand over his face. “Sorry for sneaking this shit on you after the nightmare of a day we’ve had, but I can tell it bothers you when I mention her.”

It’s only fair I’m honest back. “Hearing her name makes me feel guilty.”

He pats the space next to him, and I take the invitation, sliding between the small space between us and sit down next to him.

“If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me,” he says.

“I obviously played a part in it.”

He didn’t fuck himself.

“And today was not a nightmare. I enjoyed myself,” I add.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

I smack his arm. “You know I wouldn’t lie about that. I’ll take every chance I can to bust your balls.”

“Point made. I enjoyed myself, too. To be honest, lately, the only time I seem to be in a happy place is when I’m with you.” He lets out a heavy breath. “You took me out of my stressed out, broken world and gave me a good day. Same with the night we spent together. I like myself when I’m with you. I forget about the loss and the hurt. You make me feel alive again.”

I nod. He misses Lucy and will always miss her but is opening up a portion of himself for me to discover.

Keep going.

No, stop. Red light. Don’t drag me down this tunnel if it ends in hurt.

Keep going.

Why can’t I think straight? I need to think with my head, not my heart.

“If I could take it back, I would,” he goes on.

“Take us back, sleeping together?”

“No, take back my behavior. I might’ve not been all there, but I didn’t bring you to my home for a simple fuck. I promise you that.”

I bump his shoulder with mine. “It’s my turn to say you don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“Babe, no bullshit. The opportunity for a quick fuck has been open to me several times, but I’ve never succumbed to any advances. Not one. Drunk. Sober. Horny as hell. It wasn’t only my dick that felt a connection with you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself that morning.” He shakes his head. “I’m still having trouble with admitting that you pulled something out of me.”

I wring my hands together. “Yes, there’s an attraction between us, but that’s as far as our relationship can go.” I refuse to be second best to another woman.

He rests his hand on my knee and sucks in a breath. “I know. We’ll stick to staying friends and co-parents. I didn’t say that in hopes of having sex again. I said it, so you’d know I never meant to disrespect you, and what happened that night seems to be what makes us uncomfortable most of the time. I don’t want that.”

“Me either,” I whisper.

“Good. Then, it’s settled.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “We’re new besties.”

* * *

It’s almost midnight.

Even though we had the no-more-awkwardness conversation, it has yet to leave the building. Everything was fine while we finished eating, when we had to share a toothbrush because there was only one in the vending machine, and even when we watched endless episodes of Cops, which I learned is his favorite show.

Our problem now is going to bed.

We have to make ourselves comfortable and slip underneath the sheets. The lights will go off. There’s intimacy involved in this whether we like it or not.

“You ready to admit, you’re tired?” Dallas asks when I’m on my eleventh yawn. He chuckles. “Come on, go to sleep. You’re not going to miss anything exciting here.”

“Fine,” I groan out. “If you insist.” My shirt rises when I slide down until my head hits the rock-hard pillow. The air in the room grows thinner when I peek up and notice his eyes pinned to my exposed stomach.

He lifts his hand. “Can I?”

I nod in response since I’m struggling for words. My stomach flutters at the same time he presses his steady hand against it. It dawns on me that he’s never touched my stomach like this before. Not even during the ultrasound.

His touch comforts me, the opposite of what I thought would happen, and I settle myself on my elbows to watch him. He’s gentle, treating me like I’m expensive china, and he cradles my skin with his hand in awe.

“I can’t believe we have two babies growing in here,” he whispers.

I smile when he shifts, so he’s eye-level with my stomach.

“It’s beautiful.” He lifts up to focus on me with compassionate eyes. “You’re fucking beautiful.” He lowers his head and places his lips against my stomach. “Fucking perfection.”

I miss his touch as soon as he pulls away and makes himself comfortable on his side. The smile that’s been plastered to his lips since I gave him the okay is still there while he stares down at me.

He’s waiting for me to tell him not to call me beautiful, to make a sarcastic comment, because that’s what I do when conversations get heavy.

“What are you thinking?” he finally asks.

That your touch calms me more than a lavender bath and an expensive massage. That I wish we hadn’t agreed to keep things platonic because the things I want to do with you right now are far from that.

“I’m thinking …” It takes me a second to come up with something. “I’m thinking today is officially the weirdest day of my life.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That’s what’s heavy on your mind?”

I gulp. “Yep.”

“You seemed to be in deep thought about that,” he argues, running a finger over his chin.

“It’s a deep subject.” Oh, hell. Let’s put our attention back on people getting arrested, please.

“Fuck, I wish I could read your mind right now, but I’ll run with your answer.”

I scrunch up my brows in question.

“I’ll act like I’m convinced with the weirdest-day-of-your-life lie.” A grin plays at his thick lips. “Today was weirder than the time one of Stella’s stalkers broke into her house, dressed as a housekeeper, and begged her to wear black lipstick while going down on him?” He chuckles. “And, if I remember correctly, you tasered him before I even made it into the room.”

“Asshole deserved it,” I mutter.

He bursts out in laughter. Real laughter. I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot every time I get that from him.

“I’ll have to call it a tie between the two.”

“I’ll take that and agree that getting stranded with you has been eventful. The plus is, I’ll always remember this. We’ve formed a stronger relationship and learned more about each other in a day than we did throughout years of working together. So, thank you for the good memories and not bailing on me. Eating ramen noodles and watching a Cops marathon all alone wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.”

I lower my head to hide the cheesy smile biting at me. He needs to stop talking like this if he wants to stay on the just-friends level. I lift my gaze when he scoots in closer, wiping out the small distance between us, and his eyes soften as he drinks me in.

I play with the chain of my necklace. “What are you thinking?”

It’s my turn to ask the questions. Hopefully, he won’t lie like I did.

His jaw flexes. “You want to know the truth?”

“Of course.”

“What I’m thinking is, how bad I want to kiss you right now,” he answers with no hesitation.

Anticipation drives through my body and straight between my legs, but I keep a calm face. “Then, what’s stopping you?”

Adios, platonic, co-parenting plans. Hello, making shit complicated.

At least it’ll come with an orgasm. Hopefully.

He grins. “Good point.”

My tongue darts out to wet my lips at the same time he presses his mouth to mine. He sucks on the tip of my tongue before dipping his into my mouth. I’ve never found the taste of generic toothpaste so delectable. Our lips slide against each other, as if we’d been doing this for years.

My heart pounds when he lifts up to move over me, keeping our lips connected, and I open my legs to allow him enough room to slide between them. I take in a deep breath when his mouth leaves mine to trail kisses down the curve of my neck.

He’s slanted over me, careful of my stomach, and all I’m staring at is his erection straining through the thin gym shorts. My pulse races when I remember how big he is and how electrifying he felt inside me last time. No time is wasted before he rubs his fullness against my core to hit my most sensitive spot. I’m close to having an orgasm before we’ve even started.

It won’t take much. I haven’t been touched in forever, and if he’s telling the truth, neither has he. We need to take this slow if we want it to last.

Unfortunately, what I need isn’t what my body wants.

I need to get off.

I need this to last longer.

Why does this man constantly seem to drag out mixed emotions?

“More,” I beg and squirm underneath him. So much for wanting this to last longer. “I need more.”

More touching. More kissing. More of him everywhere.

My back arches when his mouth returns to mine. This kiss is different than the soft one before. It’s greedy. Untamed. Eager.

“Where do you want more?” he asks against my lips.

“Everywhere,” I moan out.

He groans deep from his throat when I run my foot up and down his leg and start moving into him more aggressive than what’s appropriate. I shift until his cock hits me in the perfect spot, and then I grind against him.

He uses a single finger to untie my shorts, and I wiggle out of them in seconds, desire blazing through me. He doesn’t bother removing my panties. Doesn’t see them as a challenge.

Instead, he pushes the lace to the side and gives my clit the attention I’ve been dying for, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

I gasp when he slowly slips a finger inside me while still giving me the feel of his cock. His thick finger gracefully moves in and out of me. Not how I want it. I move against him harder to tip him off on how I need it.

“Slow down, baby,” he says with a laugh. “You keep doing that, and my dick is going to explode. You probably want this to last longer than a few minutes.”

“I don’t care how long it lasts if I get what I want,” I mutter.

He chuckles and shoves another finger into me without warning. He gives me rough. “That better?”

“God, yes,” I moan out in response.

“I have something you’ll enjoy even more.”

He dips his fingers out of me in order to grab the strings of his shorts.

Finally. This is what I need.

The sound of a phone ringing startles me.

His hand drops from his shorts, and he curses under his breath. My heart beats wildly when he places them in his mouth and sucks on them on the way to his gym bag. I can’t stop staring at the outline of his swollen cock when he opens the bag and grabs his phone.

We were right there.

Right freaking there.

My vagina does not deserve this.

He checks the caller before answering.

“Hello?” He drops down in the chair and expels a stressed breath. “Hey, honey. How’s camp?” he croaks out. “What’s wrong? You’re feeling homesick? That happened to me my first time there, too.” He pauses. “I promise.”

I catch my breath when he falls quiet again.

“You know what helped me? I wrote my parents a letter, telling them all the cool stuff I was doing there. I’ll ask your counselor to mail it out for you, and I should get it before I pick you up.”

I pull my shorts up at the next pause. We won’t be finishing this.

“Good. I’ll be waiting for the postman every day.”

I sit up on the bed.

“Call me if you need anything, okay? Good night. I love you.”

He ends the call and tosses the phone on the desk. His eyes are pinned to the floor while he sits there, looking tortured. His chest heaves in and out, and the only sound is coming from the police sirens on the TV.

“Dallas,” I finally whisper.

He lifts his head, and my chest aches at the unease on his face.

“Shit, Willow. I’m fucking sorry.”

He pushes out of the chair, his erection not as visible as before when he was about to screw me but still there, and then he storms out of the room.

Tears slip down my face.

Another rejection.

I’m done lying to myself.

I’m done thinking he’ll change.

Fuck Dallas Barnes.