Page 12 of True Ruin

Dallas cleared his throat and shifted his weight, feeling foolish but driven by some dumb male instinct at this point. “If you’re around tomorrow,” he said, aiming for casual and coming out somewhere closer to hopeful, which, frankly,sucked, “we could meet for coffee at the Grill. I’m planning on working there again.”

Subtle. Maybe too subtle?

Uncertainty flickered in Gabi’s eyes before she tucked it neatly away and stepped around the offer like it might bite.

Before either of them could figure out a polite way to pivot, Justin appeared at Dallas’s side with the timing of a brother who lived to make things worse. “Hey, Gabi,” he said, smacking Dallas on the shoulder with his rolled-up blueprint. “I meantto tell you, I ran into Julie Arnett this morning. She wanted to know if you’d consider writing about this project for theCommunity Bulletin. I gave her your number at the cottage. Funny how many people have asked for it since you got back.”

Dallas felt a sudden pinch in his temple as he calculated how hard he’d have to swing his crutch to knock his brother out. The cottage sat on Campbell’s property, a converted art studio that had once belonged to Dallas’s mother and then served as Fontana’s rental before she married Campbell. Now it was his.

For one uncomfortable beat, Gabi’s lips parted, then pressed together again. “You should help Julie,” she finally said, shoving her hands into her back pockets. “It’s a good newsletter. People love it.”

Dallas shifted his weight and nudged his glasses up, trying to decide if this was funny or infuriating. Even if Gabi was interested, she wasn’t ready to admit it. She was skittish, no mystery there. Bad marriage. Single mom. A kid to protect. Especially after his brother had decided to paint him as a man with women lining up for his attention. A small-town lothario didn’t strike him as Gabi’s type.

“I need to discuss a few move-in details. I won’t be long,” Gabi said, retreating a step.

“Sure, but can you take him”—Dallas tipped his crutch Justin’s way—“with you?”

She let out a strangled laugh, still backing away. “Thanks for watching Sam. I should, well, Campbell’s waiting. And I…I should go.”

“Yep, no problem. I’ll keep Sam safely occupied until you’re done.”

Gabi gave Dallas a grateful smile, then headed toward his brother’s desk, the tails of her flannel skimming her slender hips, her jeans fitting snugly enough to make his pulse kick. A vivid image flashed through him—Gabi bent over the neareststack of lumber, his hands locked on those hips as he kissed his way up her spine. She didn’t glance over her shoulder, but the sway in her step said she knew he was watching.

A mild flirtation, maybe. Enough to soothe his bruised-for-no-good-reason ego.

Beside him, Justin whistled softly. “Okay. Guess you didn’t need my help.”

“Really,” Dallas murmured, his gaze still fixed on her.

Justin shifted the rolled-up blueprint from one hand to the other. “I thought you were in trouble, struggling to score, like in the old days.” He let out a halting chuckle. “I panicked. Men in love start pulling civilians into the line of fire. We can’t help ourselves.”

Dallas tightened his grip on the crutch, jaw clenching. “I have no troublescoring, thanks. And your solution was the jealousy approach? I don’t even know who this Julie person is.”

“Lawyer. Single, attractive, and the fifth woman to ask me about you. Evidently, you’re the fashionable flavor. Trust me, I’m as shocked as you.” Justin shut his eyes in resignation. “Yep. Hearing it back, terrible plan. And not much of a compliment for someone so damned good-looking who looks a hell of a lot like me.”

Dallas dragged a hand over the back of his neck, then closed it around the crutch grip again. His brother was trying to reach him, and here he was shutting him out. Hadn’t that goddamn therapist said not everything had to lead back to 1983? What he didnowmattered, too.

Justin went on, his voice losing its teasing edge. “Word in town is, Theo’s not the greatest dad. Doesn’t show up for baseball games, shows up late for school plays—you know, the seemingly simple stuff that isn’t simple. Gabi’s taking a lot on herself.” His gaze flicked between Dallas and the path Gabi had taken, his expression sharpening. “Probably part of the reasonshe finally figured,Why am I fighting to keep this together when I’m doing most of it?”

Dallas glanced at Gabi’s son, who was diligently drawing chalk marks on the floor as he goose-walked across it. A heartbreaker if a man was looking for heartbreak, which he wasn’t. He needed to get through two months and make it to Cairo with his head on straight. That wasit. “Guess it’s just me and Sam for a while, seeing as I’m not having coffee with his mom anytime this century. I don’t know squat about kids. Truthfully, they terrify me.”

“I’m not saying the way in is through her son if you don’t mean it, but he’s pretty adorable.”

“Ah, I don’t know.” Dallas wondered if Justin had ever considered a career in politics. “I don’t want to start anything I won’t be around to finish.”

Justin shrugged and tapped the blueprint against his thigh. “Kids aren’t that hard to figure out. Campbell opened his heart, and Kit and Luca ran right in.”

Dallas glanced toward Gabi, now behind Campbell’s desk, laughing as they chatted, at ease with everyone but him. He shut down the hollow pull in his chest before it could climb any higher and become something he had to name.

She was complicated, and he wasn’t exactly simple. She’d walked away like distance was the only sensible thing left between them.

Smart woman.

Too bad the spark had already caught.

Gabi putthe car in park, Sam’s excited chatter drifting from the back seat—a burst of childish delight she should cherish because she knew it wouldn’t last forever. Usually, the cracked concrete driveway of the perfectly serviceable house she rented reminded her that starting over came with a budget, and hers wasn’t generous. But today, with a folder of contracts to sign for the Wilder Grounds location in one hand and a bundle of pastry recipes in the other, something dangerously close to anticipation buzzed beneath her skin.

A new business. A wildly misplaced infatuation. Both reasons to look forward instead of back.