Cowboy Jackpot: Valentine's Day by Randi Alexander Read Free Book Online Page A

"But tell
me only what you feel comfortable sharing."
    "All right." He picked at the label of his water
bottle. "It was last summer, August, I think. I met Layna at a rodeo in
northern California. We spent the night." He looked at her then glanced
away. “I stayed the week. We hit it off. She came back with me to Reno."
    He'd fallen hard and fast. It didn't seem like the Dallas
she knew.
    "After a few months, she hadn't found a job, and wanted
access to my bank accounts, saying she wanted to take care of things around the
apartment when I was on the road." He took a long pull of water.
"When I said no, we argued."
    Kira's nerves jangled. She could see where this was headed.
    "Sometimes…" He looked at her, his eyes full of
sorrow. "I'd come home and she'd have bruises."
    She reached out but drew her hand back. She wanted so badly
to comfort him, but he needed to get this out.
    "She explained that she was a klutz, and that she
wanted to join the gym, but I wouldn't give her access to my accounts, so she
couldn't." He smacked the bottle on his bare thigh. "I offered to set
up automatic payments, and I gave her cash, lots of cash, enough to buy food
and clothes and whatever else she needed. But she was angry that I didn't trust
her with my account information."
    He went silent for so long, she thought he might not be able
to say any more.
    Dallas hauled in a breath. "Around Thanksgiving, I knew
it was over. I asked her to move out. Offered to pay for her gas back to
California and a couple month's rent and expenses."
    He stood and walked to the window. "She started
shaking, begged me to reconsider. When I held her and told her we were through,
she picked up her keys and looked at me. Her eyes were dead, lifeless. She
said, 'You give me no choice, Dallas,' and she walked out."
    "No choice?"
    His head turned and he faced her. "I didn't know what
it meant until the trial."
    ****
    Every muscle, every bone in Dallas's body hurt as he told
Kira the story of his last girlfriend. The last woman he'd made love to, the
last woman he'd trusted—who made him the hollow shell he was today.
    Kira sat up in bed and crossed her legs under the sheet,
keeping it tucked firmly around her. "Until the trial? But that wasn't
until last month."
    He crossed his arms over his bare chest. "How did you
know about that?" He barely held back his anger.
    Her eyes opened wide.
    "Your investigator, right?"
    "Dallas, honestly, I didn't ask him to keep track of
you." She reached out a hand. "Please. Come and sit."
    He let go of the distrust that gut punched him at the
smallest sign of a lie. Trudging over to her, he sat on the edge of the bed.
    She dropped her hand. "He called me." She shook
her head. "His contact in Reno let him know the results of the trial, and
he thought I'd want to know." Clasping her hands in her lap, she started
to speak a few times, before she said, "I'm sorry."
    "It's okay. I'm guessing you wouldn't have come up to
this suite with me if he hadn't told you I was innocent."
    "Well, Boone had mentioned…" She pressed her lips
together as if she'd let out a secret.
    "Boone told you?"
    She nodded. "I'd go with Gigi sometimes to rodeos. And
he came to New York a couple times." She scooted closer to him. "He
didn't tell me anything except you were found not guilty, and that he knew you
too well to ever believe you could harm a woman."
    Dallas laid his hand on top of hers on her knee. "I'm
not pissed, so you can stop looking at me like I'm a bomb about to go
off."
    Her eyes held a wounded look. "You have a history of
that with me, you know."
    He mentally kicked himself. "Yep, and I've been
regretting it since Christmas."
    "All forgiven." She waved a hand through the air
as if by magic it could be forgotten as well.
    "Thanks, Kira." He looked at her closely. She was
a woman he could easily become attached to. "You're good for me."
    Her cheeks colored attractively, but she didn't speak.
    "Anyway, a couple days after Thanksgiving, I'd