Page 93 of Dallas

“My lease is up,” she said, straightening. “Poppy sit.” And Poppy did. “And basically, no one in town will rent to me as long as I have her.” She gestured to her massive, hairy companion. “And I can’t buy anything yet. Not until I can do taxes for the year. Because that’s when my income from the bakery will count,” she added, her face glowing now. “Two years in business.”

“That’s great, Samantha—it is. But it doesn’t really answer the question of why you’re here.”

Except he had a feeling it did. And he had a feeling he knew just what she would ask of him. And he had a feeling he really, really wasn’t going to like it.

“I can do my taxes in January. I just need a place to stay, with Poppy, until then.”

“So, you need a month. A whole month.”

“Yes, and Jace, you’re my best friend and I didn’t have anywhere else to go and I knew you wouldn’t turn me away and?—”

“Take a breath, Sam,” he said, his head pounding as he tried to sift through the jumble of words she’d just let spill out of her mouth.

“You have a lot of room here, you would hardly notice me. And I would cook for you.”

Samantha looked at Jace and tried to will him to feel her desperation. She was sure if she tried hard enough, she would be able to make him understand her distress. He’d been her best friend since high school, and fourteen years after they’d first met, he was still her best friend. Her rock. Her support. He was all things stable and good, and given her upbringing, he was everything she needed.

Not that her adult life had been a whole lot more stable,except there was Jace. Always Jace. And Poppy, whom she was not, under any circumstances, getting rid of, even if it meant sleeping in a snowdrift in eastern Oregon in December.

Because friends took care of each other, no matter what. And Poppy was her friend. And Jace was her friend, so she expected him to extend her, and thus Poppy, the same courtesy.

He wouldn’t let them freeze in a snowdrift. Though he looked as if he was considering it.

“What would you cook?” he asked.

“Stew. And bread. I would bake you bread. And pies. Lots of pies. All the pie you could eat.”

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Generous.”

“Well, yeah, I thought so.” Jace had plenty of room. His two-story, Craftsman-style home had gorgeous, exposed wood beams in the ceiling, making the space feel huge and expansive. His fireplace had a huge couch in front of it, and it really would just be sad to sit there alone. And a dog should definitely lie on the rug by the fire too.

He also had four bedrooms and he didn’t need them all. He could certainly spare a corner of his house for a small redhead and her not-so-small dog.

“She’s not allowed on the furniture,” Jace said.

“Thank you!” She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his skin. And for a moment, she couldn’t help but be conscious of just how hard and muscular his body was. Or of the fact that his skin smelled like soap with a sheen of sweat over it, thanks to the long workday.

No. She wasn’t going there. Jace was her friend. Her attractive, hyper-masculine, sexy friend. But just her friend.

She had her occasional forgetful moments, often fueled by the scent of his skin or an unexpected smile that seemed to break through all the walls surrounding her heart and hit her square on.

But she knew friendship was the best place for them to be. He was her pillar. And without him...without him she would fall.

Which meant no risking the solid relationship they had for a little spark that was probably one-sided. Heck, it was almost certainly one-sided. If Jace wanted a woman, he didn’t sit around and wait. He went out and got her. Temporarily. Jace was a fling guy. And while she was sure being flung by him would be a good time, it wasn’t what she wanted.

Samantha was a bit more reserved in her relationships, but even with the great caution she exercised, they always seemed to sink like a bad soufflé. Nope. Definitely not moving Jace from FriendZone to BoyfriendZone. In her case, BoyfriendZone was always temporary, and it always ended in disaster.

She’d had all the relationships-ending-in-fiery-hellstorms-of-doom that she could possibly take for one lifetime. And not just with boyfriends. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in years. Jace was her rock. And cracking the foundation she built her life on was just not going to happen.

“Jace,” she said, pulling her face back so she could study him. He wasn’t smiling, but had a weird kind of intent look in his eyes.

“Yes?”

For just a second, a little tiny second, she thought about leaning in and brushing her lips against his. A friendly thank you. An expression of gratitude.

But that would be stupid. And it wasn’t the kind of thing they did.

“Yes, Sam?” he asked again, his voice a little deeper, a little huskier than normal. Oh, my.

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