Loving Dallas(62)

“I never knew you cared so much,” Mandy says, stepping around him.

I spit out a mouthful of blood, causing her to jump back. “I don’t.”

“You need to get out of here. There’s paparazzi up my ass everywhere I go,” Wade tells me. The concern in his voice is genuine. And confusing. “Go get cleaned up and meet me down in the bar in ten.”

“Go to hell.”

“You need to chill the f*ck out, man. And we need to get some shit straight before I end up dumping your body in a deserted alley in another country. Bar. Meet me. Ten minutes.” He points a finger at me before going back into Mandy’s room.

I right myself against the wall and ride out a wave of debilitating nausea. I’ll give him this much, dude hits like a f*cking freight train.

“I really hope this isn’t about the scrawny redhead,” Mandy sneers at me. “Seriously, Dallas. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“She’s twice the woman you are. And probably a hell of a better lay. Maybe we should ask Wade.”

The slap comes, sending my ears ringing so hard I don’t hear her comeback.

“Let’s go, Casanova,” Wade says, charging out of the room and dragging me down the hall by my shoulders.

“Get your damn hands off me.” I shrug out of his grasp and he glares at me.

“You can wear my fist print on your face every day of this tour for all I f*cking care. But we’re going downstairs and you’re going to hear me out. Like it or not.”

I get more than a few strange looks when we exit the elevator. I’m bruised, battered and bloody, but I don’t care.

“Bourbon neat,” I say to a pretty curly-haired bartender who smiles at me when we reach the bar. I’d smile back but I’ve lost most of the feeling in my face.

“You got it. Maybe I’ll make it a double for that shiner you got there. On the house.”

I nod and Wade chuckles from beside me. Bastard.

“Water for me, darlin’.”

“*,” I mutter under my breath.

He arches a brow, turning on the stool to face me.

“Let’s get a few things straight, kid. You don’t know much about me, and what I know about you couldn’t fill a shot glass. So I’m going to lay some knowledge on you.”

I just stare hard. I don’t want to know anything about him except why he’s leading Robyn on and f*cking Mandy.

The blonde delivers our drinks and he clutches his glass for dear life. “It takes everything I have not to sit here and get shitfaced night after night. I’ve been where you are and I’ve fallen down rabbit holes a hell of a lot darker than anyplace you’ve ever been. I’ve been in rehab more times than you’ve had your dick sucked. I have a little girl who deserves better, so damn it, I try to be better. But some days . . .”

He shakes his head and stares into his glass of water.

“You want a gold star? One of those sobriety badges they hand out?”

So it’s a low blow, but the bourbon hasn’t burned off my residual anger and hurt on Robyn’s behalf.

“Naw. What I want is to know where you got that chip on your shoulder from and why it led you to Mandy’s room tonight. More importantly, I want to know why you’re decking me for f*cking Lantram when I’m damn near certain she’s not the one who’s had your attention during this tour.”

“You know why.”

He smirks at me. “That supposed to be a joke?”

I stand up, but his hand lands heavy on my shoulder, shoving me back down.

“Relax. Let’s take it one thing at a time. You have something going with your manager? ’Cause I gotta tell you, you’re not the only—”

“No.” I take a deep breath. “I mean, she’s said shit. I just hadn’t actually considered it until tonight.”

“Because . . .”

“Because of you. Because Robyn ended it because of ‘someone else.’ ” I narrow my eyes at him, knowing we’re going to come to blows again, but unable to care.

“Whoa there, Hoss.” He tosses his hands up. “Ain’t me she’s cutting you loose for if that’s what you mean.”

I want to believe him, so help me I do. But I saw the tender look of affection on her face when they were talking in Nashville. So maybe he doesn’t feel the same way, but in Robyn’s eyes he obviously comes first.

“Maybe you don’t give a shit about her, but she—”

“She confronted me. Went pretty ballistic actually, thinking I’d requested her for this tour because I wanted to get in her panties.” He levels me with his hand again when I rile up at his mentioning her panties. “I told her the same thing I’m about to tell you.”

My fists are clenched waiting for his explanation.

“Take a drink, kid. Take a few. Then I’ll explain.”

I down my shot and slide it aside. “There. Let’s hear it.”

“Robyn Breeland is amazing. She’s one of those women, the good ones. The genuine article. The kind you fall in love with. The kind you love more every day, appreciating each line, each wrinkle, and each gray hair because it only makes her more beautiful. She’s a biscuits and gravy on Saturday morning girl.”