“He did,” Dallas agreed with a smile.
“I could have handled the call better, but on top of all that, last night I nuked a frozen meal for dinner—only to discover later it was well past its use-by date.” He saw something else in her expression, and for a moment she paused. “I don’t feel that well today, enough to put me off my game.”
“If you’re not up to talking business tonight, we can postpone the discussion.” Again, he thought. Elizabeth had canceled before to attend her women’s meeting.
“No,” she said, “I’d rather be distracted.” She pushed a sheet of paper across the table to him. “About your rodeo, I made this list of people to approach as possible sponsors, and because I couldn’t sleep last night I drafted a press release to start the PR push.”
“What else?” he asked, because obviously there was more that troubled her.
“My mother and I had words about the rodeo last week—about you, actually.”
He glanced at the list on the table next to her untouched glass of iced tea. He’d read it later after he pried the truth from Lizzie. Was the problem tonight her ongoing concern about public exposure?
She inhaled sharply. “Dallas, there’s, um, something I need to tell you.”
His gut churned. “I can guess you’re a breath away from saying you can’t help after all. Leaving me to do all the planning. Don’t. We still need to designate a charity,” he rushed on so she wouldn’t get the chance to pull out, “and everything doesn’t happen at once.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Do you ever get discouraged? You must be the sunniest person I’ve ever known,” she mumbled, as if he wouldn’t be once she explained some issue. “Dallas—”
“No, you’re beating yourself up right now because your mother doesn’t approve of the rodeo or, especially, me.” Maybe she was right about that. “What’s the worst Bernice, or anyone else, can think?”
She briefly closed her eyes. “That we’re doing more than talking, that we already—”
His voice tightened. “Well, let me tell you something. Most people aren’t that concerned, or even interested, in what we do. They’re too caught up in themselves. Why not look ahead instead of back?” He finished his tea then set the glass down.
“I’m trying,” she said. “And, yes, I know I’m whining.”
Dallas looked over his shoulder. “I don’t see a crowd, do you?”
“No,” she admitted, “but that doesn’t mean there won’t be once—” She broke off. “This town’s full of people who don’t focus on themselves. My mother is only too happy to let me know who’s been talking.”
“You’ll have to confront that someday. Her, I mean. Why not now?” While I’m here willing to act as a buffer?
“I did try.” Lizzie gazed at him for a long moment. “Why aren’t you married, Dallas? You’d make someone the best husband. And a good father—”
“Husband? Father? Me?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not married because I had a lousy set of parents before I went to live with the Maguires. My dear old dad was a dealer, and I don’t mean cars. My mom was an addict too—match made in heaven, right?—and I’m never going down the road they traveled.”
“From what I’ve heard, you had a loving home with the Maguires. You’re in no danger, Dallas, of falling into the same kind of life your actual parents led.”
“That’s what Hadley said.” He looked away. Sometimes he worried about that, one reason he’d seldom taken the pain pills his doctors prescribed after his accident. “But they hurt people. They abandoned us.” And then, for his brother, it got worse. “I was luckier than Hadley, yeah, and until I saw him again last Christmas, I thought I’d gotten past that early stuff.” He shut off the about-to-gush spigot of memory, pressing his lips tight.
“Yes,” Lizzie said, “your brother had a worse upbringing than you did—or, rather, no upbringing—yet Jenna loves him as much as he loves her.”
He couldn’t seem to help the flat tone of his voice. The subject of marriage, kids, made him twitch. “Yeah, well, I’m fine the way I am. Single. No dependents like Hadley has with Grace and Luke. And Jenna. Except, of course, for my folks. I’ll be on the road again soon, and I’m not going to stop until I earn enough to care of them all their lives.” And enough to take care of the family he might have someday, but Dallas didn’t add that.
Lizzie only stared at him until he had to blink. “I understand—about your career too—but don’t you also want a good relationship? For yourself? Whether or not that includes children?”
He wondered where this was going. He felt as if there were a sudden noose around his neck. He’d never been serious about a woman and wasn’t going to start now, even if the woman sitting across from him appealed to him. More than she should. “Why do you care if I get married or not? Or have a family?” Dallas reached for the pitcher of tea. “I thought we were talking about this rodeo. You in or out, Lizzie?” He could virtually see her decide not to say whatever else was obviously on her mind and had been since the kids’ rodeo.
“In,” she said, and his bones turned to water. “You need me more than I imagined.”
WITH A GROAN, Elizabeth rolled over in bed. Normally she had a cast-iron stomach. When the kids brought a bug home from school, she rarely caught it. Even Harry, who’d never tended to a sick child, had often suffered instead. Now her morning nausea had become an unwelcome friend with the fatigue that made her want to cover her head with the blankets and try to sleep
