Loving Dallas (10 page)

19 | Dallas

T
HE KNOCK
ON THE THIN DOOR TO
MY ROOM ON THE BUS
IS SHARP
and angry sounding. So naturally I assume it’s Mandy here to make some lewd suggestion about how I owe her my dick or something.

I sigh and open it, pleasantly surprised to find Robyn on the other side instead. My guitarist, Tyler, is standing behind her looking concerned for my well-being. I give him an I’ve-got-this nod and move aside for Robyn to come in. She blows past me without a word.

“You okay?”

“No. I’m not.” She shakes her head and looks off into the distance, paying more attention to the modest furnishings in the room than to me. “I confronted him. Because of what you said. And guess what?”

Now her eyes do meet mine and I’m nervous about what I see in them. Matching glinting emeralds of hatred is what they most resemble at the moment.

“I can’t even begin to guess.”

“No?” Her voice rises an octave or two. “You can’t? That’s funny considering a few hours ago you were an expert on the subject.”

“Clearly you’re upset with me.” I state the obvious because I know her well enough to know that when she’s in this mood everything I say will be fuel to her fire.

“You think?” She purses her sexy little mouth and shakes her head at me. “I was ranting on and on about being a professional and the whole time I was acting like some stupid teenager freaking out over gossip. Because guess what, Dallas? Whoever your
source
is got it wrong. Jase Wade didn’t request me on this tour because he wanted to get into my panties. He requested me because of the social media pitch I gave in my presentation.”

“Okay. Well, then I’m glad I was wrong.”

“You’re glad you were wrong? Since when? Since when are you ever wrong, Dallas? You just decide how things are and that’s how it is, right?” She runs her hands through her tangled hair, then gapes at me. “Dead God. I said he thought he was King Pimp of the universe.”

I fold my lips inward to keep from laughing. Laughing would be so bad right now.

“Do not dare laugh at me, Dallas. I cannot believe you said that stuff to me. But you know what’s worse? I
believed
it. And do you know why?”

Do not speak.

In lieu of a verbal answer I shake my head.

“I believed it because that’s how you make me feel. Like all I’m good for is getting you off when you need it. Right? Bang out a few orgasms and hey, maybe a song, too, for good measure. Good old Robyn. She’ll just take what she can get. That’s all you want me for, so of course, that must be all any other guy can see as well.” She takes these gaspy little breaths that make me hate myself.

The urge to laugh has passed.

“Baby, I—”

She slaps my hand away when I reach for her. “No. No, we’re done with that. Do not touch me. You could’ve cost me my job tonight, riling me up with your jealous macho crap. And I am so done.”

“Robyn,” I call out, pulling at her waist before she twists out of my arms. “Listen to me. That’s not how it was.”

“How was it then? Tell me. Because I feel cheap, and used, and played. And I do not deserve that.”

“You’re right.” I nod like a fucking bobblehead. “You don’t. I swear to God, making you feel that way was not my intention.” I sit on my bed and look up at her. Her pain is mine now, and it’s weighing heavy on my chest. I hurt her, deeply, and I’d kick my own ass if I knew how.

“Then why, Dallas? Why say those awful things to me? Because it sure seemed like you meant them.”

I clear my throat and give her the most honest answer that I can.

“Because I got caught up. I was worried that he wanted you here so he could use his authority over you and pull with your company to take advantage. I should’ve just confronted him myself instead of telling you. But we used to tell each other everything and old habits are hard to break.”

“Well, get un-caught-up. Just stay out of it from now on, okay?” She takes a shaky breath that throws me off balance. “Just stay out of my personal and professional business and worry about you.”

“Ask me anything, Robyn. Ask me to back off, to keep my hands to myself, to stop wanting to pummel every guy who looks at you sideways. I can’t make any promises, but I can try. But please, babe, don’t ask me not to care. Because I can’t not care about you. I’ve tried. I failed. I will always care. And anytime I see someone who I think might try to hurt you in any way, I probably won’t be able to stop myself from stepping in even if you don’t want me there.”

For a split second I see something in her eyes that makes me think she’s going to say she understands. That’s she’ll try to be patient with me because I’m a jackass and she knows I can’t help it.

But then her expression hardens and her shoulders stiffen and she shakes her head.

“When you get up on that stage, Dallas, I am so proud of you. I remember watching you play at dive bars and catfish weigh-ins and wherever else they would let you. I knew from the first time I saw you play that you were something special. I couldn’t wait for the rest of the world to see it. And now that they do, I am so honored to get to be a part of that. But I need you to at least respect my job even if you don’t think it’s as important as yours. I may not get up on a stage night after night, but I work really hard, too. And it would’ve been really nice if you could’ve been proud of me back.”

“Robyn—”

“Don’t. I acted like a psycho in front of a client tonight because I let you get in my head. That’s not okay, Dallas. Just leave me be. You focus on your career and I’ll focus on mine. Got it?”

She doesn’t even wait for my answer.

After she walks out, I toss a chair against the wall and watch it splinter into pieces. For the rest of the night I feel even more alone than I did before she came by to yell at me.

She’s right. We can’t do this second-chance romance shit right now. We both have careers to focus on and neither of us can afford to get caught up in something that could cost us everything we’ve worked for.

Just because I know she’s right doesn’t mean I have to like it.

M
y phone rings sometime around sunrise. The bus isn’t moving so I assume we made it to North Carolina. Glancing over on the nightstand that’s strapped to the wall, I find my phone and see my sister’s face on the screen.

Sitting up, I slide the bar to accept her call. “Hey, Dixie. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” I can hear the challenge in her voice. She’s pissed and she has every right to be. I’m two-for-two then where women are concerned.

“Oh . . . I don’t know. Did you know Robyn was going to be on this tour with me?”

My sister sighs loudly, which means yes, she did.

“Sorry, big brother. It didn’t exactly come up and I wasn’t sure how you’d respond if I dropped it on you at the last minute. Seemed like it might be best to just let you find out on your own. Kind of like how you knew Gavin was in town and not on the unsigned artists tour with you and you kept it to yourself, I suppose.”

She’s got me there. And now I know why she sounds pissed. “I’m sorry. It just wasn’t my truth to tell, you know?”

“I do know. And ditto, I guess.”

I run a hand through my hair and lean back on my headboard. “Can you tell me something else, though? Something important? Even if you think it will hurt my feelings.”

“I can try.”

“Am I an asshole? Be straight with me, Dix.”

“Dallas,” she scoffs at me. “What kind of question is that?”

“If a guy’s sister can’t call him out for being an asshole, who can?”

“I don’t think you are—not really anyway. You might impersonate one from time to time, but I think we both know there’s more going on beneath the surface. But it doesn’t really matter what I think. Why do you ask?”

“Do you think I’ve been terrible to Robyn?”

Again my sister sighs. I contemplate sending her an inhaler.

“I think you could be more up front about your feelings for her sometimes instead of pushing her away. I think whatever happened between the two of you was complicated and that it left a mark on you. You tend to go overboard sometimes trying to keep people from getting too close. That can be hurtful, you know?”

“I see. So what do you think I should do about it? Send her some flowers with a card that says, ‘Sorry for being such a dick’?”

My sister laughs at me as if I’m kidding. I am not kidding.

“I think you should apologize in a more meaningful way. One that says more than just sorry but lets her know that you’re going to try and do better in the future.”

“Right. I’ll see if I can get that iced on a cake.”

“You sound tired still. Get some sleep, Dallas.” With that my sister pretty much hangs up on me.

I should sleep some more. The show will run late tonight. But there’s a song in my head, one Robyn inspired, so mostly I write. When I come to a lyric I can’t make fit, I pick up my guitar and try to play through it.

“Patience isn’t enough,” Papa used to say when I’d get tired of a song I couldn’t master. He’d hand me my guitar time and time again after I’d set it aside. “Persistence is just as important. It’s what sets you apart from the quitters.”

I’d huff and puff and pout, but I’d take the guitar and try until I got it.

“Life is what you make, boy,” he’d tell me. “You get back what you put in. You quit on life and it will quit on you right back.”

I don’t go back to sleep until I’ve finished the song.

20 | Robyn

B
Y
THE TIME WE REACH
C
HARLOTTE,
I
HAVE COOLED DOWN CONSIDERABLY.
Both from my humiliating encounter with Jase Wade and my anger at Dallas.

Katie talks me through it as we follow behind the convoy, reminding me that it’s sweet that Dallas cares, though he could certainly demonstrate that concern in more appropriate ways. But then he wouldn’t be Dallas. After a hot shower and a good night’s sleep in the hotel, I decide it’s a new day and I’m not going to let my past cast a shadow on it.

At least that’s the Kool-Aid I’m drinking until I see him.

Dallas is in the middle of sound check when we arrive at the amphitheater. He’s wearing a Midnight Bay trucker hat and his black T-shirt fits just snug enough to make me jealous of how close it is to those muscles.

He’s performing a new song, one I haven’t heard before. “Tough All Over” must be the title because it’s repeated several times in the chorus. I catch a line about how she can throw anything at him she wants, a kiss, a hug, even a right hook. If she wants to cry, he’ll be her shoulder. ’Cause he’s tough all over.

I’m frozen where I stand, setting the Midnight Bay free sample boxes around the stage for the drink girls to distribute.

I have twenty dollars in my pocket that says that song is about me. And deep down, I have always been a Dallas Lark fangirl.

A few of the women who are working for the venue stop what they’re doing to listen, too.

This is Dallas in his element. Strong. Seductive. Charismatic and hot as asphalt on a sunny day.

Damn him. Damn him to hell in his tight jeans and his cocky country boy swagger.

Look away, Robyn,
my subconscious warns me. But I can’t. He’s up there in all his glory and I have the ideal view.

When the tempo ramps up and he launches into a cover of a song called “Take It Out on Me,” I practically have to wipe the drool from my chin. It’s not until a few of the workers step over and ask for his autograph and he quits playing to sign their stuff that I manage to tear myself away.

Katie hangs back with a knowing look.

“Not a word, Katie-O. Not a word,” I command as I walk by with my now-empty boxes.

She laughs. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I could hear your thoughts.”

She nods. “Uh-huh. And I could hear yours. You, my friend, are a naughty, naughty girl.” She shoves me lightly as we walk over to the VIP area.

“Yolo,” I say, using the phrase we both make fun of that means You Only Live Once.

“So true,” Katie says, pretending to ponder the sentiment deeply. “So very true.”

I
don’t know if it’s how well the meet-and-greets go, or just how much fun Charlotte folks are, but I’m in a fantastic mood when the show ends. I’m not even as tired as I normally am after running around for hours. So when Katie and Drew ask me if I’m up for grabbing a drink at a college bar nearby, I say yes.

It becomes abundantly clear about half an hour in that I am very much a third wheel, but as long as they don’t mind, neither do I. I knew they were hanging out a lot when we were on the road, but I didn’t realize how serious it was until I saw them dancing.

Talk about sexual tension. Hot damn.

Drew is quiet. He pretty much hides behind his camera for the most part. I don’t know much about him except that he’s from Portugal, a retired athlete in his thirties turned photographer, but when I see the way he moves with Katie on the dance floor I am seeing the guy in a whole new light.

When the bump-and-grind makes me blush, I finally have to look away.

“You still mad at me?”

The voice is deep, male, and the one that rolls over me like melted caramel.

“No,” I tell Dallas, because I’m not. I’m embarrassed that I was so distracted by Katie and Drew that I didn’t even notice him sitting there.

“Promise?”

“Do I lie?”

He grins and leans closer, close enough that I can smell that woodsy, now liquor-infused scent.

“You try to. But your face gives you away.”

I arch an eyebrow in his direction, having lost interest in my fruity drink. Should have stuck with bourbon. “Oh yeah? What am I thinking now?”

“You’re thinking that watching your friends get it on over there on the dance floor got you pretty hot and you’re extremely glad that I’m here to handle that five-alarm situation for you.”

He winks and I let out a small awkward laugh. Maybe all of my thoughts are being flashed in neon lights above my head. As close as he is to the truth, I am not going to be one of those people who keep repeating the same mistakes.

I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.

“Great show tonight,” I say, my pathetic attempt at changing the subject.

“Yeah? Did you catch the new song?”

I focus on the bottles lined up behind the bar. God how I wish someone would turn them all the right way. “I might’ve heard a lyric or two.”

“What’d you think?”

“It was all right.”

I turn around in my seat, so that I can focus on the dance floor. I’m out of things to distract me behind the bar. Drew has his hands on Katie’s hips now, holding her body from behind, and the way they’re moving together makes me question if they’ve already gotten it on. Their bodies seem awfully familiar with one another’s. I make a mental note to ask her.

“Just all right?” Dallas scoffs, taking mock offense at my lack of enthusiasm.

The truth is it’s an amazing song, one girls all over the country will be listening to wishing their boyfriends or husbands would sing to them. It’s about being her rock, her solid pillar of strength or her punching bag, whatever she needs whenever she needs. And I’ve had my hands all over his body so I know the title is true. Dallas Lark is the walking, talking, living, breathing example of tough all over.

“Eh,” I say with a shrug.

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart,” Dallas says in my ear, bringing on those damn sexy shivers he induces. “You want to get out of here? Or you want to sit on this bar stool and lie to me some more? I’m good with whichever, so long as you’re not still mad at me.”

“So you’d be just as happy to sit here with me as you would if I let you take me back to your room?”

Who’s the bad liar now, Lark?

He takes a long drink of his draft beer and nods. “Yep. Just so long as you’re talking to me.”

I stare at him, losing myself momentarily in his eyes. The way they’re silver on the edges, almost wolflike, and cerulean in the center with a pale sky blue threaded through the irises.

“I almost believe you.”

He chuckles, snapping me out of my lust-filled fog. “I didn’t say I didn’t have a preference. But I am truly happy with either.”

“Gee, thanks.” I nudge him and he uses the contact to deepen the moment, catching my gaze before I can look away.

“I owe you an apology, Robyn. About the way I acted. Not just with Jase, but ever since that summer, when you ended things between us. I was surprised and hurt. I took what I had for granted. Afterward, when you tried to make nice and I acted like an asshole, that was my own stupid bullshit getting in the way and I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I let my macho male crap interfere with your job. I’m going to do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

I am officially stunned. Dallas Lark doesn’t do humility or apologies. Maybe Dallas Walker does. Hell, now I’m confused.

“Well, um, thank you. Apologies accepted.” I smile and he grins back in a way that scrambles my brain.

“Anyway, I think you were right,” he tells me. “About boundaries.”

No I wasn’t. Screw boundaries, I want to say. I sip my fruity waste of a drink and nearly choke. “You do?”

“Yep.” His voice is low and husky, raking over my skin as if I’m sitting here naked. “I think our problem is that we haven’t communicated what we each want. This isn’t a situation where we can afford to get caught up and confused about what’s going on. The first boundary should be we only have sex when you want to. I won’t initiate our sleepovers anymore. I’ll wait for you to tell me what you want.”

I huff out a breath. “Hope you enjoy waiting.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Sometimes I do. When the reward is worth it.”

It’s like he speaks the language of my lady parts. Stupid traitorous lady parts.

“Any other boundaries I should know about?”

“I won’t interfere with your job anymore, swear it. But that goes both ways. We both have to accept that sometimes our jobs might mean interacting with people that make us uncomfortable or even damn near blind with jealousy. But at the end of the day, we both know whose bed we’re going to.”

“And you think I’m going to yours?” I should not encourage this behavior. I really shouldn’t. But his confidence has always been the sexiest thing about him. Besides his eyes. And his hands. And his ass in those damn jeans.

“A man can hope,” he says softly. “You want to dance, pretty girl?”

He’s followed my line of sight back to Drew and Katie.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“The offer is there,” he tells me with a noncommittal lift of his shoulder. “Just sayin’.”

I have a feeling the “offer” is about a lot more than dancing. I decide to go with that feeling. “If we were going to, um,
dance,
we’d need more than boundaries. We’d need some hard rules. Ones I’m not sure you can follow.”

Dallas grins, clearly feeling victorious since I’m playing along. “Lay ’em on me, darlin’.”

“You suck at sticking to boundaries, Dallas. And I’m serious, this gets out or you pull any more of that crap on me about Jase, I could lose my job. It could cost us both our place on this tour and I really, really would not be happy about that.”

“Me, either,” he agrees. “So we agree to be discreet. Keep it casual. And to give each other space if needed regarding work obligations.”

“Except when it comes to your manager,” I amend. “I kind of want to cut her every time she comes near you.”

Dallas chuckles and the sound rolls through me, massaging my tense muscles from the inside out. “Stake your claim then, baby. Whatever you need to do.”

I glare at him and he throws his hands up.

“Or don’t. Totally up to you.”

“Dallas . . .” It sounds so simple, but we both know it won’t be. I am jealous of Katie and Drew for far more than their sexual chemistry. They can date. They can hook up. They can do whatever they want. Dallas and I have all this . . . messy history in the way.

“Don’t back out on me now, sweetheart. The way I see it, this is a win-win. You don’t have time to meet new guys right now, and I don’t need some groupie throwing herself at me so I can screw up and get her pregnant in a moment of weakness. You think some of those women don’t pull that shit on purpose so they can trap guys in my situation in hopes of tying themselves to the money and the fame? I wish that wasn’t true but that’s my reality. Most of my fans are amazing and loyal and precious to me. But some . . . well, you’ve met my manager. So tell me what to do to make you see that I mean what I say. I know I’ve been an ass and I am truly sorry. But we’re not kids anymore. We can do this. We
should
do this. I can behave like an adult. I can.”

“Prove it,” I tell him, not sure if that’s even possible.

“You got it.” He dips his head and stands. I’m expecting him to reach for my hand, either to lead me to the dance floor or out the door, but he doesn’t. Instead he marches his crazy self directly up to the stage and says something to the band that’s playing. The music stops and everyone turns their attention to him.

“Evenin’ y’all,” he says into the mic as he straps on the guy’s guitar. “My name’s Dallas Lark, and I have to prove something to my girl tonight. So bear with me, folks.”

Katie makes a face at me and I just shake my head. With Dallas, you just never know what to expect. I gave up trying to figure him out long ago. It’s more fun to be surprised anyway.

When he plays the opening chords and the band chimes in, I laugh out loud.

Dallas strums and sings, entertaining the crowd like the professional that he is and the entire bar is mesmerized.

His rendition of “I Walk the Line” is a hit and I wonder how many people know that the man on the small stage before them is the same one who played to a sold-out amphitheater a few hours ago.

When he starts toward me with his guitar, I close my eyes.

Fight or flight, Robyn.

This is it. Dallas is on one side of the chasm that’s been growing between us for years and I’m on the other. When he reaches me, I know I have to make a choice. Now. Either I can play it safe and walk away, again, or I can jump down a gaping black hole with him.

I chew my lip as he serenades me in a crowded bar, am contemplating, weighing my options, and pitting the pros against the cons. They stack up pretty evenly. This tour will end and I’ll either have some scandalous memories of being young and reckless that will leave another scar on my already wounded heart or a list of regrets that come from playing it safe.

I glance around and see the carefree smiles of the bar’s unsuspecting patrons. To them I just look like a lucky girl a sexy singer is flirting with. And damn it, I want to be that girl—the one who gets to have an impulsive fling, even though I know it can’t last and I’ll eventually have to go back to being me.

God help this man. God help me.

I let my protective shield fall to the ground and shatter at my feet as I meet Dallas’s intense stare and give him an almost imperceptible nod. He smiles and the relief in his eyes hits me in all the weak places I’ve left exposed.

Yes,
I think so loudly it’s a wonder he doesn’t hear my thoughts over the music.
I’m going to risk a world of hurt for experiences that might become painful memories. Because I’m pretty sure it will be worth the pain.

I add one more thought in case he really can read them.
Be careful with me, please.

For better or worse, I am his, and he is mine—even if only for a little while longer.