Dallas
Sex with youis the best I’ve ever had.
The whole drive home, Dallas couldn’t stop grinning. Hannah might have had a few drinks, but only enough to free up her filter and not enough for him to worry about leaving her alone to lock up. The kiss they’d shared had happened before the drinking began, too, and it gave him a good idea of where things between them really stood.
She believed she’d been playing a role when they first met. He thought the exact opposite was true—that she’d been stifled by her ex since she was a teenager and had let the real Hannah loose for the first time at the wedding. He’d caught another glimpse of that Hannah tonight, over the sandwiches they’d shared, then again when they kissed, but she’d still had to work up the courage to invite him upstairs at the end of the night. It was why he’d decided it was a bad idea to stay. There weren’t going to be any regrets the next morning, this time. Not if he had any say.
Meanwhile, even though he knew he wasn’t suffering from priapism—a true erectile dysfunction—the constant up-and-down state she’d left him in since last October was uncomfortable, to say the least. Knowing it wasn’t going to kill him didn’t help.
Ryan and Dan were in the common room waiting for him when he walked through the front door shortly before midnight. Dan’s leg was healing nicely, although he had it propped on one of the leather sofas so he’d likely overdone it that day. Dallas flopped on the sofa closest to him and yawned.
“Hard day at the hospital?” Ryan asked from the chair facing him.
“Terrible,” Dallas lied. “Steady stream of patients. One disaster after another.”
His friends looked at each other and laughed.
“I stopped by outpatients at five o’clock to ask you about a change the builders want to make in the free clinic’s design and they told me you’d already left for the day,” Ryan said. “You missed our Wednesday night briefing session, too. You’re supposed to have a reminder programmed into your phone.” He sniffed. “Why do you smell like beer?”
Damn. He’d forgotten all about their weekly meeting. Now he’d have to file a written report because Ryan took these things seriously. It was just one more reason why Dallas hated money so much. “I stopped at the Grand Master Brewery to discuss using it as a venue for the clinic’s fundraiser and ended up staying for a few games of chess and a beer.”
“Wasn’t this supposed to be ladies’ night at the taproom? Jazz has gone once or twice when things were quiet at the smoke jumper base and I was working,” Dan said.
“I guess that explains why I was the only man there.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time at the brewery over the past few weeks,” Ryan remarked. He sounded casual enough, but he didn’t fool Dallas. “Should we be worried? Stress getting to you?”
“Absolutely,” Dallas said. “I drink too much and I’ve developed a substance abuse problem, too. I’ve been stealing narcotics from the hospital.”
“You tend to be a stressor, not a stressee, and I doubt if your alcohol and substance abuse issues are the reason you hang out at the taproom,” Dan said. “Hannah Brand is pretty.”
The penny dropped. Ryan’s gaze took on the glint of a raptor focused on prey. “She is. She’s also the girl you met at your friend’s wedding whose boyfriend is now out of the picture, isn’t she?”
“The one you thought might be after Dallas’s money?” Dan asked. “Hannah doesn’t really seem like the type.” He settled in as if preparing to watch a drama unfold.
“All women are the type,” Ryan said.
Dallas hadn’t forgotten that Ryan believed Hannah used him as an excuse to break up with her ex-boyfriend for good. She’d pretty much confirmed it, so he wasn’t wrong. But that was all past history now. They had a date lined up for Sunday. He didn’t want his friends puncturing his fantastic mood, no matter how good their intentions might be. Ryan really needed to get past his childhood issues.
“I have a vaccine clinic for babies in the morning so I need to get some sleep. You wouldn’t believe how worked up parents get if you’re careless with a needle,” Dallas said.
“Just a minute.” Ryan waved for him to stay seated. “We’ve been discussing the possibility of a week-long camping trip to explore the ranch. Neither of you has really taken the time to see it all.”
Aweek?
Dallas pointed out the obvious. “Dan and I can’t just walk away from our jobs. I say we don’t micromanage the hired hands. There’s over one hundred and fifteen thousand acres of land we’d have to cover.”
That equaled one hundred and eighty square miles and significant portions of neighboring counties. Not to mention three thousand cows, eight hundred heifers, and one hundred and fifty range bulls. They’d recently begun adding Tennessee Walker horses to the mix, because why not. Annual crop yields consisted of twenty-five thousand tons of alfalfa hay and seven hundred thousand bushels of wheat and barley. One hundred acres of cleared land contained an airbase with three runways and hangar facilities, a smokejumper base, and the free clinic. Next summer the main ranch in Grand would support a group home for at-risk youth—or, as Dallas liked to refer to them, teenagers.
The extent of their inheritance boggled the mind. And that was before factoring in all the money, which really, paid the Endeavour’s major expenses. Ranching at this scale wasn’t for the poor, fainthearted, or anyone lacking serious commitment. That was why they’d left management up to Ryan. He excelled at it.
“I know you’re both busy.” Ryan didn’t come right out and say it, but the side-eye he gave Dan included his off-duty relationship with Jazz. Dan shrugged it off with the smile of a man who had everything he wanted in life. “But think of it as a corporate retreat,” Ryan continued.
“Really? What’s our corporate goal?” Dallas asked.
Ryan grinned. “Fly-fishing.”
Dallas liked fly-fishing. “What week are we talking about?”