I wasn’t completely convinced. “I promise. Cross my heart. I’m keeping my hands to myself, and the boys and I are fine the way we are. I’m not looking for a sugar daddy. I just don’t want you to hate me since we have to see each other all the time. Promise.”
The man didn’t miss a beat, even the corner of his lip curled up as he murmured in that husky voice, “I know.” His mouth almost instantly went flat. “And I don’t hate you. I thought you wanted to be friends.”
Chapter Twelve
My head was pounding a couple of days later.
I wanted to throw up. I didn’t get migraines often, but when they did come a knockin’, hell had to be paid. I woke up that morning with a throbbing sensation behind one eye and it had only gotten steadily worse as I drove the boys to school. I should have known what was happening. When a call from a restricted number popped up on my screen just as I pulled into the lot at work, the pain went to another level.
Fucking Anita again. I knew it was her.
Thinking about her usually left me with a headache, but with her recent visit and phone call today… it was so much worse. I was nauseous and my brain wanted to burst out of my skull.
By some miracle, I made it through my work day without throwing up or crawling under my station, thanks to over-the-counter migraine medication we kept in the break room for emergencies and so much coffee, my hand shook while I did a couple of trims. It was a miracle I hadn’t cut myself. My phone had rung twice more, once with Trip’s name flashing across the screen and the second with Dallas’s name. I hadn’t felt like dealing with their baseball business and didn’t bother answering, letting both calls go to voice mail. It was my turn to pick up the boys from school afterward. I didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that the discomfort from my migraine was written all over my face.
They were both sweet and watched me carefully as I drove back. I’m sure they caught on to me not feeling my best, but they didn’t comment. To put the topping on the cake of how sensitive they were, when we got home, Josh offered to make them a snack so I didn’t have to.
All I could manage to do was thank him and ruffle his hair.
Both of them, along with Mac, headed into the backyard to play who knows what at the same time the next dose of medication I’d taken started kicking in just enough so that the light coming through the windows didn’t make me feel like I was on the verge of dying.
So when a knock came from my front door, I was a little confused. My parents rarely came over without calling first, and the Larsens never came unannounced. No one else of my friends would come over without double-checking. Hardly anyone had the new address.
Looking through the peephole, I was more than a little surprised to see a familiar face on the other side instead of a Girl Scout or a Jehovah’s Witness.
“Hey,” I said hesitantly and more than a little weakly once I’d opened the door.
When I’d peeked through the peephole, Dallas had had just about the most pleasant expression on his face I had ever witnessed coming from him, but the second his gaze landed on me, that expression went straight into a frown. “What’s wrong with you?”
Was it that bad that someone who was just shy of being a complete stranger could tell there was something wrong with me? “I don’t feel well.”
His frown deepened, his gaze raking all over me again in a way that made me feel like he was making sure I didn’t have some contagious disease. “You look like hell.” Was I supposed to look like a beauty queen when my eyeball felt like it was about to abandon ship from my skull? “Migraine?”
I started to nod before remembering that would only make it worse. “Uh-huh. I don’t get them that often, but when I do….” Why was I telling him this? And why was he here? “Do you need something?” I asked a little more harshly than I intended for it to come out.
He ignored my question and tone. “When did you last take something?”
I shrugged; at least I think I shrugged. “A few hours ago.”
“Did you make dinner already?”
“No.” Honestly, I’d been thinking about making Josh call something in. I didn’t even want to bother with preheating the oven to stick a frozen lasagna in there.
Dallas glanced over his shoulder, hesitating when he faced forward again. His jaw jutted out for a moment. He let out a long breath through his nose, and then nodded, more to himself than to me, that was for sure. He rolled those massive shoulders of his and met my gaze, straight on. “I’ll close the door. Go lay down. I’ll take care of dinner,” he stated in that no-nonsense bossy way of his, like he wasn’t someone I’d met and hung out with a handful of times.
Who was this man and why was he doing this? The tiny head shake I did was more than enough to send bile creeping up the back of my throat. I couldn’t try and hide my cheeks puffing out as I kept the acid down. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he said, still not breaking eye contact.
Was he using my own tactic against me?
I swallowed. “I’m sorry. Thank you for the offer, but we’ll be fine. Is there something you needed or can we just e-mail later?” Plus, since when had he ever come over to talk Tornado in person? Never. What else would he be coming over for?
To give him credit, he didn’t do much more than tip his face toward the sky and blow out a breath before shifting his attention back down to me, his facial features smooth and not amused. “Are you always this stubborn?”
I would have narrowed my eyes if it didn’t make my pain worse. So I told him the truth, mirroring his expression. “Yes. Is your real name really Dallas?”
That thick, dark eyebrow of his rose a half inch. “Yes.”
“Why did your parents name you that?” I asked even as my head gave another nauseating throb.
That eyebrow of his rose a quarter of an inch more than it already had. “My dad lost a bet on a football game, and it was either naming me Dallas or Cowboy.” He didn’t miss a beat and went ahead with going back to the original subject. “Let me help you.”
I would have gone with Dallas, too. I let the name thing go and waved my hand weakly. “You’ve done enough. I’m not trying to take advantage of you or cross some line. We’ll be all right,” I whispered, closing one eye when the pounding became even more concentrated.
Dallas was staring me down, but I didn’t care. His voice was so low I had to strain to hear it. “I get that you’re not trying to come on to me, now or ever, all right? Can we never bring that up again? I’m here. You’re not feeling well. Let me help.”
I closed both my eyes and frowned, wanting this conversation over with.
He sighed. “I know what it’s like for a single mom to get a migraine every once in a while. If you want to call mine and make sure I’m not shitting you, you can.”
I didn’t have the energy or the willpower to contemplate his words. I opened my eyes. Who the hell used their mom as a reference anyway?