Running Wilde (The Brothers of Wilde, Nevada 3)

Walking up to the front of the home, she noted the door’s color was red. Against the gray stone, it looked striking. Dallas opened it for her and motioned her in.

Upon entering, Jessie loved what she found. Dallas’s home was a sanctuary of comfort and relaxation. In many ways, it reminded her of her father’s estate in Maine where he often spent his summers. The interior of Dallas’s house had a coastal sensibility. That was odd to her, since it was actually in the mountains. The walls were pale blue, and the giant, overstuffed sectional was white. The coffee table was made of bleached wood with a glass top. Around the space were little touches of yellow, green, and red in the lamps, pillows, books, and rugs. Anyone walking into this room would likely feel their shoulders sag and a calming breath slip from their mouth. That was the exact effect she’d felt the instant she’d entered.

Jessie had to admire the Wilde brothers’ mother. Jackson’s and Phoenix’s home had been immaculate. Dallas’s was no different. There wasn’t a single dust bunny in Dallas’s place. But his wasn’t a house that would ever be featured in a magazine. He’d obviously built this place for enjoyment and relaxation, and she instantly felt at home in it.

“Well, what’s your first impression of my handiwork?”

“I love it, Dallas. It’s so comfortable and inviting.”

Dallas smiled broadly. He seemed thrilled at her response. “Let me show you more.”

“I’d like that.” She leaned into his muscled frame, and he kept his arm around her back, guiding her around the place.

The kitchen had dark oak cabinets, black appliances, and granite countertops. There was no dining room or breakfast area. The only eating space was a long countertop with six barstools. She could imagine him hosting his brothers for a big meal. Dallas’s casual disposition probably required guests to participate in the meal prep. Nothing formal here.

“I remodeled the kitchen last year. I know it’s pretty basic. I’m not very good at the decorating. Mom helps me with that.”

“Well, you’re talented, and she’s got a wonderful eye.”

“I think she does, too. Let me show you the guest room.”

Neither Phoenix nor Jackson had guest rooms in their houses, but it made sense to her that Dallas would’ve made such an accommodation in his home. The more she thought about the cowboy, the more she could actually imagine spending more time with him. Much more time.

He took her to the door to the right in the hallway. The bed looked soft and inviting. Nothing in the space was over the top. Still, the handmade quilts, big pillows, rocking chair, and table with a simple reading lamp whispered of peace and quiet. Jessie loved to read, but her job had denied her that pleasure. How wonderful it would be to slip into some comfy clothes, grab a book and a cup of tea, and let the outside world fade away.

“I love this room. It’s my favorite so far.”

“Well, we have two more to go.” He kissed her cheek, and she didn’t object. “Let’s finish this tour.”

The bathroom departed from the rest of the space. It was more shower room than bathroom. Warm-colored stones covered the walls, the floors, and even the ceiling. The choice of metal for fixtures was brushed nickel. Two sinks, also brushed nickel, were set in a large antique buffet at a height that would put her on her tiptoes but was perfect for Dallas’s stature. Two large, framed, rectangle mirrors were hanging on the wall above the sinks.

“I wish I’d put a bath in here, now that I know how much you like to take them.”

“Don’t push it, cowboy.” She grinned. “Still, I wouldn’t mind rinsing off.

“Now to the big finale.”

Gooseflesh popped up on her skin. “Your bedroom?”

“Right. This way.” He led her down the hall to the far door. It was open.

When she spotted his big bed, her knees went weak. Just a quick tour, then I’ll ask him to take me back to my hotel.

“Take a look at these, Jessie.” He pointed to the antique photographs of Wilde, Nevada’s Main Street displayed on the walls. As Jessie studied them, she came to the conclusion that the town didn’t look much different today than in the photos, except instead of trucks filling the streets, back then there were wagons.

Dallas shifted behind her, leaning down and placing his head on her shoulder. Her body temperature rose.

“Sweetheart, I have more old photos that Pappy Jack gave me. I’d love to show them to you someday.”

“I’d like that.” She continued to look at the photos, though she was having trouble focusing on them as she took a whiff of Dallas’s amazing scent.

“Well, how do I stack up to Jackson and Phoenix?”

She gulped. “What do you mean?”

“My house, love. Better? Worse? Tie?”

“It’s incredible. I love it. You can’t compare them. They are all so different. Just like you and your brothers are to each other.”