“I don’t want to. I’ve got work and the boys, and I don’t have time for stuff like that.”
“I think it falls on your ex’s weekend. And I bet they’d let you off.”
We’re coming up to the two oak trees in the middle of a green field. Earlier today, I laid out a picnic blanket with two wineglasses and a bottle of her favorite red wine.
We pull to a stop, and she stares at the blanket. The sun hides behind a cloud, framing her in the perfect pink light. I pull out my phone and snap a photo of my two best girls with the sunrays framing them like a portrait. That’s my new favorite picture, hands down.
I slide off my horse and walk over to her.
“When did you do this?”
“Earlier today.”
I reach up for her. She lets me help her down, and I take the mare’s reins.
I tie both the horses to a nearby fence post and remove the picnic basket from Butter’s back.
She’s still staring at the scene—like if she looks too hard, it might disappear.
“You’re not used to having nice things done for you, are you?”
She crosses her arms over her stomach, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s perfect.” Her voice is more high-pitched than usual.
“Good. You hungry?”
She nods and steps toward the gingham picnic blanket. I wait for her to choose a seat before sitting down beside her. Igrab the bottle of wine, thankful I remembered to uncork it earlier, and pour each of us a glass. I tap mine to hers, and we both drink.
“This is my favorite,” she says.
“Is it?”
She still doesn’t seem to have caught on to the fact that I notice everything about her and I pay attention. I reach for the picnic basket and pull out the food.
I wanted something that would be good if it wasn’t hot or cold, so I brought ham and cheese sliders with a mustard onion glaze. Dallas’s eyes widen when I pull them out, along with the mini strawberry cheesecake cookies.
“My sister helped me,” I confess. “Over-the-phone instructions.”
She purses her lips, trying to hold back a smile.
“It smells really good.”
“You know what they say about a man who can cook.”
I hand her a slider, wrapped in a napkin. “No. What do they say?”
“You should give him a chance, like a real chance.”
I peer up at her, not even trying to hide my expression. It’s a look that says I’m completely, stupidly in love with her.
It took me way too long to realize it, but I finally had a lightbulb moment last night, staring at her silhouette through the window. She was just standing there, and I couldn’t look away.
She might’ve started out as my fuck buddy, but she’s so much more than that to me now. I’ve spent my entire adult life avoiding emotional attachments, jumping from woman to woman without a care in the world.
But Dallas has unknowingly been chiseling away at my heart for months now.
Part of it was the night she was sick, and I helped her with the boys.
Another part was me obsessing over how to keep her ex-husband from hurting her boys again, to the point where all I want is to put him in the ground. Watching her experience trauma and panic attacks during intimacy makes me feel violently protective of her. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.