Page 23 of July’s Cowboy Dallas

We left the Merc together, supplies in hand.

Outside, Addison was already at her car, keys in hand, that perfect rodeo queen smile back in place.

Dallas reached for the case of water.

“I can carry it.”

“I know.” Then he stopped and waited until I handed it to him.

That small gesture was one of many I should have noticed through the years. All this time, he’d been right next to me, supporting me in small ways that added up. I still didn’t know what to do with that, so I kept walking.

As we made our way toward his truck in silence, the whole town spread out around us.

I could feel people watching. And I was suddenly, acutely aware that whatever had happened between Dallas and me yesterday wasn't just between us anymore.

Mustang Mountain saw it too.

I wanted to ask what last night meant. Wanted him to tell me it wasn't a mistake. Wanted him to stop being so careful and look at me the way he had in that alley, right before everything changed.

Neither of us said a word about it.

Instead, Dallas said, “I got a line on replacement stock out of Billings. Should have confirmation by tonight.”

So that’s how he preferred to handle things. We’d go back to work and pretend the line we'd crossed hadn't knocked us both off our feet.

Dallas held the truck door open like nothing had changed. Addison waved from across the lot like nothing was wrong. And for one foolish second, I almost believed both of them.

But I'd seen the way Hades watched her go. That wolf had a sixth sense about sniffing out trouble in Mustang Mountain. Whatever she was hiding, it wasn't fan mail.

CHAPTER 7

DALLAS

I'd spent the morning giving Sadie space like it was the decent thing to do. Judging by the way she stared out the passenger window, I was starting to think I'd only given her a different kind of hurt.

The drive back to the rodeo grounds felt like it took longer than it should have. Supplies rattled in the truck bed. The road stretched out hot and bright. And Sadie sat six inches away from me, silent in a way that made my chest tight.

Six inches. I could've reached over and taken her hand without straightening my arm. I'd spent the whole drive not doing it.

Last night meant everything to me. That was the problem. I didn't know if it meant the same to her, and I couldn't ask. Asking meant risking the one thing I'd always had with Sadie—steady ground. A place where I knew how to stand.

If I touched her again, I wouldn't be able to pretend I was only helping. If I said too much, I could lose the friendship. She had enough pressure without me adding my feelings to the pile. So I stayed quiet, gripped the wheel, and told myself I was doing the right thing.

The way she kept her face turned toward the window suggested I was wrong about that too.

The rodeo grounds hit us with noise and motion the second we pulled through the gate. The midway was still coming together, all half-hung banners, shouted directions, and kids slipping through gaps they weren’t supposed to find. Above it all, flags snapped red, white, and blue against a sky too clear to offer any mercy from the heat.

Cody stood near the holding pens, barking instructions at two stock hands who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else. Orville hovered near the announcer's booth, his phone pressed to his ear, trying to sound calm while his face gave away full panic.

Ruby’s gossip had done what Ruby’s gossip always did. By the time we crossed the grounds, people were sneaking looks at Sadie like they knew better than to stare but couldn’t quite help themselves.

Sadie pretended not to notice. That made me want to step between her and every pair of eyes in town, which would only make everything worse.

I parked near the stock barn and killed the engine. My phone buzzed. I smiled as I skimmed the text.

“They just confirmed,” I said. “Four head from Billings should be here by morning. Two more by noon.”

“Good.” She didn't look at me.