Loving Dallas(35)

“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 *, 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.”