Page 65 of Twisted Violet
My heart slams against my ribs as my brain fills in the worst-case scenario.
He found me.
I flick off the stove, grab the biggest knife from the block, and crouch low behind the kitchen island.
Thank God, Ollie’s fast asleep in his crate.
Footsteps echo down the hallway, and my breath hitches.
They’re slow, steady, and getting closer.
I press myself tighter to the cabinets and clench my fists,knife braced and ready. The moment the footsteps are close enough, I spring up, ready to attack.
“Jesus!” Dallas jumps, his hand instinctively raising in defense.
My knife stops mid-air.
I take him in. The dimples, the golden tan, the familiar weight of his stare and the panic drains just enough for my hands to stop shaking.
“Well, hey there, psycho Barbie.”
I stare, panting, still not lowering the blade.
Dallas lifts both hands like he’s surrendering. “Look, if this is about me finishing the last of your mochi, Iswearit wasn’t on purpose.”
My hand drops. So does the knife.
I let out a breath that turns into a half-laugh, half-sob. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He steps forward slowly, like he’s approaching a spooked animal. “The job only needed two of us on-site. We drew straws to see who got to come home to you. Clearly the best man won.”
He smiles, but I can see the flicker of concern in his eyes.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. Then shake my head. Then nod again.
His brows lift. “So… is that a yes and a no?”
“I thought-” I exhale hard. “Never mind.”
“You thought it was another attacker,” he says, voice softer now.
Dallas’ jaw tightens, just for a second. Then he steps closer and nudges the knife away with his boot. “Well, the good news is, I’m home and we’re having a movie date tonight. The bad news is, I’m dangerously handsome, and come bearing snacks, which, as you know, isyour kryptonite.”
He tosses a plastic bag at me. It’s filled with sour watermelon gummies, chocolate-covered raisins, and peanut butter M&M’s.
I blink down at the candy. “How did you remember all of my favorite movie snacks?”
Dallas shrugs and offers me a smile. “I pay attention, V. Especially when it comes to you.”
Dallas heads into the kitchen to grab us drinks while I recover on the couch, trying to calm my still-jittering nerves.
“I already have the perfect movie picked out.” He calls out, peeking his head out of the fridge.
I arch a brow. “You sure I’m going to like it? You know I have a discerning taste.”
“Please,” he grins, settling beside me with two bottles of water and the remote in hand, “I’ve had this cued up for weeks.”
