Page 34 of The Dallas Dilemma

I turn to see her holding out a pair of black strappy sandals with chunky heels. I sit on the chair beside me and strap my feet into them before standing. I like theextra height, and the thicker heels will help ensure I don’t break an ankle trying to walk in them.

“Perfect,” Twila says, then hops up to hug me. “Now, go. Go drive that man to distraction and get you some.”

A laugh bursts through my lips, and she chuckles with me.

“I love you,” I breathe as I release her.

“Love you, too. Now, go. And text me later to let me know how it goes.”

She swats my ass, and I grab the unopened bottle of water she brought for me before gathering up my discarded clothes and leaving. I’m a bit nervous driving back home, but it’s agoodnervous, for once. Any anxiety I might be feeling about tonight aside, I’m excited to see Dallas again.

When the elevator doors slide open on my floor, I step out, then freeze when I see Dallas at his door. He looks at me, then back at the door he’s unlocking before his head snaps back in my direction. His eyes are wide as they travel from the top of my head to my feet and back up again. I force myself to move, and he remains stock-still as I approach.

“Hey,” I breathe, and his throat works as he swallows thickly and returns the greeting.

He smells like sawdust, sweat, and man, and fuck, my nipples harden as I breathe deep. I was today years old when I realized that particular scent combination turns me on. I wonder if I can convince himnotto shower before I come over.

“You look…stunning,” he says like he was searching for the right adjective before settling on that one.

“Thank you,” I say, forcing myself not to fidget under his heady stare.

“I…uh…” he stutters as he grips the back of his neck, “I’ll text you in a few after I’ve cleaned up.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay,” he replies, but continues to stand there.

“Okay,” I repeat again, and he startles as if waking from a dream.

“Right. Okay. See you soon,” he says, his movements jerky as he opens his door and strides inside.

A wide grin breaks across my face as I turn toward my own door and unlock it. I head inside, and once the door’s closed behind me, I drop the bag of clothes I wore to Twila’s and lean back against the door with a deep breath. Dallas was definitely, undeniably gobsmacked.

I’m going to have to buy Twila something pretty for loaning me this dress.

Twenty minutes later, I get the text from Dallas. After replying that I’d be right over, I run into the bathroom to freshen my breath with a swish of mouthwash. Then I drink some water so the minty scent won’t be so strong because, yeah, I don’t want to appear to be trying too hard.

And I’m overthinking things again. I take a deep, cleansing, somewhat minty breath, blow it out slowly, then grab my keys and phone before heading over to Dallas’.

The door swings open a second after I knock like hewas waiting on the other side for me. Before I can say a word, his hand snakes out to grip my wrist. He pulls me inside and kicks the door closed behind him as he pulls me into a tight hug. His back is bowed as he stoops over, and his chin rests lightly on my head. I slowly wrap my arms around him, and when I tighten my grip to hug him back, he heaves a contented sigh.

Like he’d been waiting all day for a hug from me.

He smells good––like soap and something leathery––and though I like the scent, it doesn’t make me feral like his dirty, I-worked-wood-with-my-hands-all-day smell did earlier. That’s probably a good thing. Maybe. Definitely.

Dallas tightens his grip for a moment before releasing me and stepping back. His eyes eat up the length of me as he bites his lower lip, and the sight of him doing so sets off a fluttering in my lower abdomen.

He shakes his head and clears his throat before taking my hand and pulling me toward the living room, asking, “Do you want a beer? Or something else to drink?”

“A beer sounds good,” I answer.

“Make yourself at home,” he says, motioning toward the couch.

It’s long and made of deep brown leather. I settle at one end as I look around the room. His décor is masculine, yet tasteful, with lots of beautifully crafted wooden furniture. A large coffee table in front of the couch, matching end tables, and a meticulously carved hutch that houses his television and other electronics. I look back down at the coffee table and see the legs are carved with swirls and edging that matches the hutch.It’s some kind of redwood that’s varnished with a glossy finish.

“Do you like it?” Dallas asks, startling me as he sits beside me on the couch with two beer bottles.

He jerks his head toward the table, and I nod. “It’s beautiful.”

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