Loving Dallas(36)

“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.