Loving Dallas(65)

Robyn made a comment once, about how it was hard to tell if we were getting a second chance or making the same mistake twice. I voted second chance. She looked dubious. I don’t know how I’m going to keep from making the same mistake twice, but somehow I have to try. One thing is for sure. I owe her an apology for not hearing her out. Not tonight, because I look and feel like shit, but I have to figure out a way to throw my hat in the ring before I leave the damn country.





34 | Robyn

WHEN THE KNOCK COMES, MY HEART NEARLY LEAPS OUT OF MY chest. Climbing out of the nest I’ve made myself on my couch, I try to work out in my head the words I’m going to say. They’re like a puzzle with a bunch of pieces that don’t fit. There has to be some way to tell him what I need to in a way that will soften the blow.

“Remember how you mentioned being afraid a groupie would get knocked up on purpose just to trap you and tie herself to you for life? No need to worry about that anymore. I got it covered,” just doesn’t come off as gently as I would like for it to.

But when I open my door, it isn’t Dallas standing there. It’s his manager.

“Miss Lantram,” I say in greeting. “What can I do for you?”

She gives me a smile that’s more of a smirk and breezes past me into my apartment. The scent of expensive perfume, the kind that smells amazing but if you inhale too hard you choke half to death, wafts in the air behind her. I feel like Ms. Potato Head in her presence. Me with my gray sweatpants from the Pink store and a stained T-shirt from Midnight Bay next to her in black leggings and a leather jacket. Her stilettos are sharp enough to use as a weapon. Judging from the hostility in her stare that might be her intention.

“You could, oh, I don’t know, do your job. That’d be a nice change.”

I narrow my eyes because there are a lot of things I’ve done wrong, but my job is not one of them. “I can assure you, I have done my job and will continue to do it to the best of my ability. Maybe if you’d care to elaborate on exactly which aspect of Midnight Bay’s involvement in the tour you’re displeased with then I could—”

“It’s not Midnight Bay’s involvement I take issue with. It’s yours. Specifically.”

Hence why she’s in your apartment, Breeland.

Watching her standing there glaring at me, I recall what Dixie said about her. How she’s the one who told Dallas’s sister to sit out the encore at the showcase that landed Dallas his career in a roundabout way. I can’t help but wonder how differently things might have turned out if she hadn’t made her particular suggestions.

“I see,” I say evenly. “Well, I knew Dallas long before you did. So while I can tell that fact is upsetting to you, unfortunately I have yet to discover the formula for time travel. Guess there’s not much we can do about it.”

“Do you know what he did tonight? Where he is right now?”

“I don’t know where he is now, but he came by earlier.”

“And then he came to my room.”

My stomach turns a full somersault at her announcement. “Congratulations. So you got what you wanted then.” Now kindly get the f*ck out. I hold the door open for her but she ignores my nonverbal parting gesture.

“Not hardly. Jase did get a fist to the face, though. Which he returned. Any ideas as to why Dallas felt the need to attack the headliner of the tour he’s on?”

I’m growing exceptionally tired of her guessing games.

“Much like time travel, mind reading isn’t my forte. How about you just put your big-girl panties on and say whatever it is you came here to say?”

I lean against my door and wait for her to unleash her wrath on me.

“Fine.” She breathes hard through her nose and pins me in place with a glare. “Whatever is going on with you and Dallas and/or you and Jase Wade needs to stop. Effective immediately. This is Dallas’s big shot and the last thing he needs is some high school homecoming queen mucking up his life.”

I arch an eyebrow. Not bad on the guessing. I was homecoming queen, mostly because I campaigned my ass off.

“More importantly,” I begin, meeting the challenge in her eyes with a hard glint of my own, “you want me to get out of your way so you can get in Dallas’s pants the same way you snaked your way into Jase’s. Right?”

Her mouth gapes open and I take a step forward.

“See, I know about you. I know how you pushed Dixie Lark to not play at that showcase so you could get her out of the way and have Dallas all to yourself. I see you so clearly, it’s almost scary. You push other women away because you feel threatened by them. You’re depending on your looks and your sex appeal to make your career successful and so far that’s worked for you. The guys have the talent and you have a client list full of moneymaking, ass-shaking superstars you get to bed down whenever you feel like it. I have to say, kudos to you. As one of very few women in the bourbon business, I can understand using what you felt you had to in order to get where you wanted to be. But as a woman with some integrity and self-respect, I can’t say I would’ve gone the same route.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mandy Lantram gives new meaning to the worth seething. If I keep talking, I can probably make steam shoot straight out of her ears.

“Don’t I? Then tell me, what was Jase Wade doing in your room tonight? And why was Dallas heading there?”