Loving Dallas(9)

“I’ll do that,” I say, even though I have no idea who Red is. Don’t know, don’t care.

It’s the number-one rule Mandy has reiterated since the moment we found out I was being added to this tour. Hands off Wade’s women. I highly doubt he and I have the same taste anyway. Wade likes the drunk ones with the biggest tits from the front rows, from what I hear. I’ll pass on those walking sex tapes and TMZ exposés waiting to happen, thank you very f*cking much.

Stepping offstage, I glance at the empty seats once more.

According to the sign posted by the stage, maximum capacity is 9,450 people. The largest audience I played for on the unsigned artists tour was a little under five thousand folks.

This is it. I made it.

There’s a lyric here somewhere. The quiet before the storm. I know it’s in there somewhere, but I can’t find it with both hands.

Despite my writer’s block, I can feel the enormity of this moment in my bones. The building buzz in my veins. Adrenaline and anticipation fortifying me in their purest forms.

This is only the beginning.

And no amount of adolescent f*ckery from Wade or Mandy or anyone else is going to get in my way.





6 | Robyn

“HEY, DIXIE. THANKS FOR GETTING BACK TO ME.”

I’m half out of breath from running across the amphitheater. I’ve left half a dozen voice mails for her but I didn’t know how to ask what I needed to on a recording.

“Sure. Sorry I crashed early last night. But I got your messages. What’s up?”

I move behind a concession booth for a modicum of privacy. The VIP fans are already in line and Dallas and Jase will be down here any minute for the meet-and-greet.

“It’s about Dallas. Well, me and Dallas. We’re on the same tour.”

“Oh God, Robyn. I meant to call you. I completely forgot you told me you were heading up the promo for Wade’s tour. Dallas was so excited about getting added to it and I was on the road when he called me. The pieces didn’t snap together until last weekend and I—”

“It’s fine. Really. I just, um, I just wanted to know . . . Does he know? That he’ll be working with me?”

The other end of the line is quiet. Then I hear her exhale audibly.

“No. I was trying to recall if I’d mentioned your job to him. But I haven’t. Our conversations have been pretty short, actually. I think he’s keeping something from me, something about Gavin, which I can’t really complain about because I’m keeping some information on our favorite broody drummer from him, too. But I know for a fact I haven’t said anything about your job or you working on Wade’s tour.”

Relief spreads through my chest, clearing it of the intricate webs of tension that had formed when I’d been researching Jase’s new opening act.

I want to ask her what she thinks is going on with Gavin, if she’s okay, and what she thinks I should do about Dallas. But before I can, he appears in my line of sight and I have to go. Jase Wade follows not far behind and a curvy brunette is hot on his heels and looks mad as hell. Probably a woman scorned. He seems to leave a trail of them in his wake.

“Hey, thanks. I have to go. I’m actually at work right now. But I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sounds good. And I am so sorry, Robyn. Seriously. I suck. I should’ve—”

“It’s fine. Promise. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

Him, I mean. I can handle him.

At least I hope I can. Because he’s walking directly toward me.

The brunette stops Dallas and pulls him aside so Jase reaches me first. He gestures to the pyramid of bottles behind me.

“Lookin’ good.”

I smile and smooth the lace dress I’m wearing under my denim blazer. “I’m glad you like it.”

“The display looks great, too,” he adds with a sly smile.

I shake my head and turn just in time to see the brunette glaring at Jase. I’m distracted by the outrage glowing in her eyes so I notice a second too late that Dallas is close enough to recognize me.

Our eyes meet and I wonder for a full minute if this is the movie of my life being shot without my permission.

He looks different than when I saw him at his grandfather’s funeral a couple of months ago. There’s just enough dark scruff on his chin and jaw to make me wonder what it would feel like in the palms of my hands, in the valley between my breasts, and Heaven help me, on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I would slap some sense into myself if I were alone right now.

Dallas stills completely, the questions clear in his gaze. He has no idea what the hell I’m doing here. Tension ripples tight on both sides of his jaw. He probably thinks he’s having some kind of nightmare.

“Drew here will get a few shots of both of you with the display.” I smile at the freelance photographer that works for Midnight Bay from time to time. “Then he’ll take the VIP shots separately. Just smile and act natural.”

That’s what I’ll be trying to do.

Drew’s been doing this a lot longer than I have. He already has his camera up and is snapping candids. I can only imagine what the shots of Dallas’s face are going to look like.

You’re prepared, Robyn. Dallas isn’t. Brace yourself for him to possibly behave like an ass in five . . . four . . . three. . .