Dallas Nights by Em Petrova Page B

the thin light on his front porch. When he drew up before the ranch, she released a puff of breath. The warmth washed over his neck, and his cock throbbed.
    Ellie girl, this coulda been yours.
    He might have carried her inside and laid her out on their big bed, covering her tiny body with his and loving her long into the morning hours.
    He waited for her to climb off. She did, losing her flip-flop in the process. Damn idiotic footwear for a Texas gal. She knew better.
    She chased the rubber shoe around the grass with her bare toes until she got it underfoot and slid it on. He hitched his leg over the ATV and walked toward the house without a backward glance.
    “Come in and use the phone.”
    He couldn ’t take her home. Being in the cab of his truck with her, his head filled with her sweet vanilla scent, would be too much. Emotions he had thought long-buried had only been stored with gunpowder. They burst like fireworks.
    She followed him into the house. He switched on the kitchen light and twisted his face aside, but she recognized him.
    “ Dallas,” she gasped. “I thought when I got onto the four-wheeler that it was you. Do you remember me?”
    “ Even if I hadn’t been able to see you, I would have known whose thighs were around me,” he blurted.
    She sucked in a harsh breath, and their gazes connected. Her green eyes glistened above tanned cheeks spattered with more freckles than she ’d had six years ago. Her thick, mahogany hair that he’d once spent hours combing with his fingers as she lay in the grass was bundled into a messy ponytail on her nape. Tendrils had broken free and straggled over her jaw.
    He scuffed a hand over his face, hoping to erase any emotion he might bear.
    She took a hasty step toward him, then drew up short and plastered her fingers to her mouth. Over the tips, she stared at him.
    He jerked his head toward the old phone hanging on the wall. “ Make your call.”
    She didn ’t budge, white flip-flops glued to the worn linoleum he planned to replace with gleaming oak hardwood in the fall. Once he sold a few horses to raise the cash.
    Ignoring her, he walked out of the room. Unable to remain in her presence another minute. The way she looked at him hurt. Hurt bad.
    In his bedroom, he dragged his dirty, sweaty t-shirt over his head and threw on another from the top of the clean pile. Shoving his hat back on, he wandered out to the kitchen to find Ellie standing in the center of the room, her face cradled in her hand.
    At the sound of his boots, she looked up. Eyes t ear-bright.
    Fuck, woman. Don’t look at me like that.
    He pressed his lips together.
    “No one’s home at my house. I can walk. It’s not far.”
    He shook his head and grabbed his truck keys off a nail by the door. Not looking back, he escaped the house that would now forever be tainted with the vision of her standing in his kitchen.
    The screen door banged then opened and banged again as Ellie came out.
    “Should I lock the door?” she asked.
    “ Nah. Get in the truck and we’ll see if we can get yours unstuck.” Anger raced in his veins. She had no business down there at Hart’s Pond, especially since it was the place where they’d first made love.
    Inside, he reached behind the seat and found his soft flannel shirt. He tossed it into her lap. “ Put that on before you freeze something off.”
    “ Thank you.” Her voice raised the hairs on his body.
    Being enclosed in the truck together was worse than he ’d ever imagined. Her tan thighs tormented him. Too easily he recalled long drives with her feet on the dash. But he’d left her with her ankles hooked over Nathan Rafferty’s shoulders.
    Biting off a growl, he fought for control . It was nothing more than young love—not the kind that lasted forever. Besides, he’d sworn off women, wanting only his ranch, his animals, and peace.
    Ellie crowde d against the passenger door, staring through the windshield silently. They bumped down the gravel drive and