if he didn’t get a rein on his libido. Logical or not, he did like the plan, if for no other reason than to spend a little more time with Paris. As far as the mothers’ harebrained matrimony scheme was concerned, no way would that happen.
After pushing away from the desk, he stood and propped his hat on his head. “All right, you two. Get to cooking and I’ll go get the girl.”
Seated in her compact sedan, Paris stared at the private number displayed on her phone. Normally she would ignore the call, but some mysterious force propelled her to answer. “Hello?”
“Where are you right now?”
Overcome with sudden paranoia, she looked around the almost empty lot for some seedy no-account who’d magically come upon her cell number. “Who is this?”
“Sorry. It’s Dallas Calloway. Are you back in San Antonio?”
“No,” she said after she’d regained enough composure to speak. “I’m at a convenience store somewhere between Cotulla and Dilley. Or maybe I’ve already passed Dilley and missed it when I blinked.”
“Right off the interstate?”
“Yes. It’s a red-and-white building with some weird creature on the sign, but I can’t see the name from here.”
“I know the place. Stay put. I’ll be there in a few.”
Paris didn’t have the opportunity to say another word before the line went dead, leaving her with a laundry list of questions bombarding her brain. Why would he want to come after her? Had she left something important at the office? She glanced at the passenger seat to verify the presence of her briefcase, although only a few moments ago she’d just carried it into the store to pay for gas and buy a snack. Speaking of snacks...she yanked down the visor and pulled up the vanity mirror to check for the presence of chocolate, which she found smeared in the corner of her mouth.
Paris scrambled around in the center console for a napkin, then swiped furiously over the offensive spot while cursing herself for being such a cliché. Have stress, grab candy. Preferably chocolate candy. Dark, light, didn’t matter. As long as it contained cocoa and no nuts.
After reapplying her lipstick, and tightening the hair band securing the low twist at her nape, she waited for the enigmatic cowboy to arrive in a pickup, or possibly ride up on his trusty horse.
The first assumption had been correct, she realized, when a large dual-wheeled black monstrosity of a truck pulled in the space to her right and its dashing driver left the cab.
As Dallas approached the door, Paris powered down her window to find out what his surprise appearance was all about. “Did I forget something?” she asked as soon as he arrived.
“Nope,” he said. “But I forgot to ask you something.”
“What would that be, pray tell?”
“If you’d care to stay for dinner.”
Only moments ago, she’d consumed a large bar of candy and washed it down with cola so dinner wasn’t all that appealing. But maybe this was his way of saying he might be considering her for the position after all. “Dinner would be nice, but wouldn’t it have been much easier for you to call me and ask me to come back rather than you drive all the way here?”
“Yep, that fifteen-minute drive was a real hardship, but here the West is still wild, and the men go after their women.”
She’d give him a speech on the death of chauvinism if he didn’t look so gorgeous displaying that grin and a delightful dimple. “Far be it from me to question archaic tradition.”
He leaned over and folded his arms on the window’s ledge. “Are you going to follow me home, or do you want to ride with me and I’ll bring you back later to get your car?”
Although he seemed harmless enough, Paris wasn’t stupid. If she didn’t have her vehicle, she couldn’t determine when it was time to go. “I know the way now. I’ll drive.”
He pushed away from the car and straightened. “Fine by me. See you in a bit.”
In less time than it took Paris to fasten her seat belt, Dallas shot out of the lot on spinning tires, kicking up a flurry of dust in his wake as he turned onto the access road. She took a little more time following suit, still questioning the reason behind his surprise invitation.
Yet life wasn’t without risk, and she’d taken plenty in her formative years. Some had turned out well, others, not so much. She hoped this risk proved to be a good one.
After traveling ten or so miles, she found Dallas had pulled over on the shoulder to wait for her. He seemed to slow down to accommodate her caution, and remained that way until they turned off the interstate and onto the rural road leading to the ranch.
Once they traveled through the elaborate stone entry containing the iron sign announcing their arrival at the D Bar C, Dallas drove past the office where the barren terrain took a dramatic turn. Paris glanced from the road long enough to ogle the massive white rock ranch house to her left as Dallas continued on. They passed by several other large houses set back off the road, each one appearing to include transplanted trees, lovely landscaping, first-rate barns and expensive vehicles, including one black Porsche that she would wager belonged to Worth. After Dallas took a left, pavement soon turned to gravel as they navigated through pastureland lined with barbwire fence and dotted with mesquite.
They soon passed a large pond lined with weeping willows where a two-story, expansive home came into view, dealing Paris another stunning mental blow. The structure was also stone trimmed with cedar accents, like the rest of the residences, only this one had a gleaming silver metal roof and seemed to be twice the size, as well as a tad more elaborate. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she’d happened upon a resort hotel.
Dallas pulled beneath the portico and Paris followed his lead, half expecting to be greeted by a parking attendant. When that didn’t happen, she slid out of the car and joined her host for the evening at the entry. “Nice place you have here,” she said as he opened one of the heavy pine double doors.
“It’ll do,” he replied with surprising nonchalance.
It would more than do, she realized after she stepped over the threshold. A grand staircase with a wrought iron banister centered in the soaring foyer, and dark slate floors could be deemed somewhat elegant. Yet that was where the elegance ended, right before the West began.
As Paris trailed behind Dallas into the great room, the cowboy culture came shining through in the floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace anchoring the room along with the macho leather furniture in shades of gray and black. And hanging from the towering ceiling, a chandelier, for lack of a better term, appeared to be made out of metallic animal horns, although she would swear they weren’t authentic. At least she hoped not.
“Welcome to Dallas’s little piece of heaven, Paris,” Jenny said as she floated into the room wearing a frilly pink apron and a vibrant smile.
Odd that Dallas didn’t have household staff and had to rely on his stepmother to play hostess. “Thanks for having me, and I have to agree. This place is paradise.”
