Page 11 of The Dallas Dilemma

And why, exactly, is that? It’s just another day of the week. Real love doesn’t need an occasion to be commemorated. It should be celebrated every single day. Valentine’s Day is just a marketing ploy set up by jewelers and greeting card companies.

8 ?3 ?23

DFW@BodaciousBuckaroo211

Says someone who’s obviously never had a girlfriend.

4 ?0 ?6

JoeyB@JoeVSVolcano

You’re right. I haven’t had a girlfriend. But that doesn’t change the facts.

0 ?0 ?5

I blowout a cleansing breath as I close the Cackle app. I’ve had about all I can take of Buckaroo this morning. It’s no surprise he’s single. His negativity toward love and romance, in general, would chase away anyone who might want a relationship with him.

And what was that bit about me never having had a girlfriend? Was he probing to find out if I’m into girls, or something? Like he could use that as some kind of weapon to explain why I don’t likehim? As if I would ever like him.

Gag.

Twisting on the couch, I stretch out on my back and hold my phone above me. Tapping the icon for my contacts, I pull up Dallas’ number. My thumb twitches as I hesitate, and then I take a big breath and tap the icon to open a new text thread. Blowing out the breath, I swallow thickly and start to type.

Me:Hey, Dallas. It’s Joey.

Shaking my head, I delete the words and stare at the blinking cursor for a few beats before trying again.

Me:Hi. It’s Josette. Your neighbor. From across the hall.

“Jesus, Joey, how many Josettes do you think he knows?” I murmur as I delete that message, as well.

I start to type again, and a knock echoes through my otherwise silent apartment. Startled, I shriek and lose my grip on my phone. Gravity takes over, and I grunt as the device bounces off my cheekbone before tumbling to the floor.

“Ow. Shit,” I mumble, rubbing away the pain in my cheek.

There’s another knock on the door, and I freeze. Who could that be?

“Josette, you home? It’s Dallas.”

My eyes flare wide as his words trail off, and I leap to my feet. Turning left, then right in a panic, my mind screams at me to decide before I stop, take a deep breath, and pick my phone up from off the floor.

“Coming,” I call out loud enough for him to hear and use my free hand to smooth back my hair as I shuffle toward the door.

Taking a deep breath as I grab the lever for the deadbolt, I blow the air out in a slow stream while twisting the lever and grabbing the doorknob. Gritting my teeth, I swing the door open.

“Hi,” Dallas says with a smile that nearly knocks me off my feet. “Sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to borrow a cupof sugar.”

I blink up at him, shocked out of the stupefied trance his smile threw me into. A cup of sugar?

“Seriously?” pops out of my mouth, and he laughs.

“I know it sounds cliché, but I forgot to buy some at the store, and I’ve been seriously craving some sweet iced tea. It’s great fuel for unpacking, you know.”

I stare at him, my gaze falling back to his boyish smile, which I just noticed is end-capped by crater-deep dimples. Jesus, could he be any cuter? Like seriously. This man is perfection.

His smile drops as I just continue to stare at him in silence, and he backpedals, saying, “I’ll just pop out to the store. Sorry to bother you.”

“Wait!” I shout as he starts to turn, and he whips back around. My cheeks heat as I wave for him to come in. “Yes. Yes, I have sugar.”

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