Loving Dallas (11 page)
“
W
HERE IN THE
WORLD ARE WE GOING?”
Dallas showed up at my hotel room right at lunchtime and said we were going out to dinner and that I didn’t need to bring anything except myself. We never made any official plans for today so I’m a little surprised to see him. He apparently wasn’t kidding about waiting for me to initiate the sex in our new arrangement because he walked me to my room last night and left me without so much as a good-night kiss.
We’re supposed to be heading to New Orleans tomorrow morning. I’d spent the afternoon getting some work done in my room so I’d have time for sightseeing in New Orleans.
“You’ll see,” he says, tugging me by the hand to the hotel lobby. He’s still holding my hand when we exit the hotel. He waves the driver off and holds my door open.
Tossing him a questioning glance of apprehension over my shoulder, I slide into the backseat.
“Do I at least get a hint?” The car pulls into traffic once Dallas is all the way inside.
He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Remember that trip the honor society took in high school? The one that included Italy and Spain that you didn’t get to go on?”
I nod. I do remember. I didn’t get to go because my dad had died.
“You said you were really just upset because you were excited about the food.”
I smile. “This is true. But what does this have to do with where we’re going?” Surely he realizes we don’t have time to hit Italy or Spain before tomorrow morning.
“We’re going to get the food.”
B
lue Restaurant and Bar is exactly what Dallas promised.
The menu is divided into locales and there are even more countries on the menu than there were on the National Honor Society trip. I don’t even know how he remembered that. We order dishes from all around the world. Some of them are amazing and some are, well, kind of gross. But we try it all and we laugh a lot. It’s the best date I’ve had in . . . forever. And I’m not even sure it’s a date.
I stare at the table full of half-eaten food. “I can’t eat any more. I’m so full it hurts. The dessert menu is tempting, but I can barely breathe.” Dishes with names I can hardly pronounce fill the table. Foie gras, a fish that’s pan seared, and soup referred to as bisque. It was amazing.
“That’s okay. We’re going to do a little walking, then I have other plans for dessert,” Dallas informs me.
“Oh do you?” I sincerely hope his dessert plans include sex, though I might need a nap first after all the rich food.
He pays the tab, then stands to help me up from the table. “I do.”
“Since when did you become such a planner?”
He makes a low satisfied noise in my ear. “Since now.”
A
fter a gallery crawl in the North Davidson arts district, I am delighted when we stop in front of a French bakery I’ve wanted to visit since I saw it on Food Network.
It’s gotten late and I didn’t expect much of anything to still be open. But Amelie’s is open twenty-four hours a day.
“I’ve always wanted to come here,” I tell Dallas, squeezing his arm as we step inside. The menu is a giant chalkboard and the vibe is trendy and upbeat despite the late hour. “How did you know?”
“Seemed like a Robyn-type place,” he tells me with a self-congratulatory grin. “So I did good?”
I feel like a little kid at Christmas. “So good,” I gush, barely managing to tear my eyes from the display cases full of sugary confections.
Once we’ve ordered, we both descend on our coffees and sweets. Mostly I do a lot of inappropriate moaning, stopping just short of having a
When Harry Met Sally
moment.
“So you never told me,” Dallas says before shoving the last macaron into his mouth after I turned it down.
“Told you what?”
“What your dream is.” He meets my amused smile with a serious stare. “I’m serious. You know mine. We talk about it all the time. Hell, you’re watching me live it. So what’s yours?”
I take a bite of my caramel apple tart and chew slowly while I contemplate this. “Mine’s not as exciting as yours.”
“What? It doesn’t have to be exciting. Your dream is your dream and fair is fair. I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”
I feel the heat that sweeps across my cheeks. “Pretty sure I’ve shown you mine more times than I can count.”
Laughing, Dallas shakes his head at me with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “There’s my dirty girl.”
I roll mine. “I don’t know, Dallas. I don’t think of it as a dream, I guess. More like a goal.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “Tell me your goal then.”
I take a sip of my coffee and decide to buy a French press ASAP. “I have way more than one.”
He smiles like he knows this about me already. “I’ll text the driver and let him know we’re walking back to the hotel from here. These goals of yours, let’s hear ’em.”
“
W
ELL, FOR START
ERS,”
R
OBYN SAYS, HO
LDING UP ONE FINGER, “
I want to be successful. I want to be the best at what I do. I want to be recognized for my sacrifices and hard work but not with like, a Grammy, or anything. Just with raises and promotions. So I can buy lots and lots of shoes.” She winks and I shake my head.
“Well, I think you’re the best damn marketing events promotional person there is.”
She’s grinning when she corrects me with her official title. “And I want to be happy, you know? Not just content. But full-on happy.”
“Full-on happy?” We’ve almost reached the hotel but I want to hear her explanation of this so I slow our pace.
She nods and her voice is soft when she speaks. “Yeah. I want to love and be loved and I want to smile and laugh and be grateful for all that I have every single day.” Her eyes don’t leave mine as she continues. “I understand what you meant about getting caught up in the tour and the interviews and the media stuff. Sometimes it’s easy to just shift into autopilot and go through the motions. But I don’t want that. I don’t want to just ‘get through’ my life. I want to really live it and enjoy it. I want to experience everything that I can while I can.”
Her words flow out of her mouth and into me.
Is this what this is? An experience? One with an expiration date because I’ve set it up that way?
There’s a convincing smile plastered on my mouth but Robyn listing her life goals is doing something strange to me. It’s like listening to someone tell you what’s going to happen after you die.
We’ve had a fantastic night and I’m happy for her¸ but knowing I won’t be a part of this future she’s so excited about has me twisted up inside in knots I don’t know how to untie.
“I want to go hiking and sailing and travel the world,” Robyn continues, her enthusiasm growing as my trepidation about the entire state of our relationship consumes me. “I want to eat a meal that costs way more than it should in Europe, and have pasta in Italy that fills me so full I look like I’m pregnant with twins. And, oh! I want to go to that toy store in New York. The one in that movie with the giant piano, you know?”
“FAO Schwarz,” I say because it was in a Tom Hanks movie she and I used to watch on my grandparents’ couch on lazy Sunday afternoons.
“Right.” Her eyes are gleaming with excitement while I am wrestling with my own selfish shit. She’s practically skipping ahead while I trail behind.
I
want to be the one to take her to the fucking toy store to play on the giant piano, damn it. I want to take her to Europe and Italy. I want to be the one who gets to watch her have these experiences she’s so excited about.
But I won’t be. Because I’ll be on the road, on some bus living like a gypsy while she moves on with her life. With some other motherfucker who’ll get to kiss her sweet mouth and see that light shining in her eyes when she dances across that damn piano. I won’t be the one who gets to watch her dreams come true and that hits me in a place I don’t let anyone affect, ever.
“Ready to call it a night?” I gesture toward the hotel.
Robyn tilts her head at my abruptness. “Yeah. I guess so.”
We ride the elevator to her room in silence. She has this look on her face that has me wanting to kick my own ass. She opened up and I shut her down.
When we reach her door, I see it, the hopeful look of invitation.
I’m going to be invited inside. But I don’t deserve it. And even though I do want this, want her, my head is in the wrong place for this right now.
Before she can say anything I take a step back. “I’m beat, babe. Get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
Wounded surprise flashes in her eyes but she nods. “Okay.” Just as I’m about to turn away, she touches my arm. “Dallas?”
“Yeah?”
“Tonight was . . . really great. It was pretty much the perfect date—for me, anyway. Exotic food, art galleries, and dessert at the coolest place I’ve ever seen. But I know you and none of those are really your idea of a good time. And now you’re not coming in so . . .”
I don’t answer her unspoken question because I’m not entirely sure what it’s going to be.
“I guess I’m just wondering what you got out of tonight.” She averts her eyes in a way that makes me feel like I’ve embarrassed her by making her spell it out for me. I place a finger under her chin and lift so she has to look at me.
“You had a good time?”
“A great time,” she says softly.
“That’s what I got out of tonight.”
I kiss her lightly on the mouth, but I step back before she can wrap her arms around me. Tonight wasn’t about casual sex or getting off and we both know it.
If this goes any further right now I’m going to tell her that we can do this every night. That I would do anything to take back the time we lost. That being on the road would not be nearly as much fun if she weren’t here. That I want more than casual sex. I want to be the one to see her dreams come true, fuck, I want to
make them
come true.
It wouldn’t be possible and it wouldn’t be right to say any of that, so I place one more kiss on her forehead and let go of her hands. There’s only one way this can go and I need to wrap my head around that and accept it.
Sometimes you don’t get your dream exactly as you wished it. Sometimes you get a solo deal instead of one with your band. And sometimes a woman you are realizing you’re in love with has dreams that don’t include you—that
can’t
include you.
So I do the only thing that I can.
I walk away.
E
ITHER SOMEO
NE IS KNOCKING ON MY
DOOR OR
I
CHANGED M
Y
alarm to the sound of hammers on my skull.
“Go away!” I holler, though it’s muffled by my pillow.
The past week has been a blur. I can’t even remember exactly which city I’m in and I don’t necessarily want to yet. I just want to sink back into blissful sleep.
“Dallas Walker Lark, I know you do not think you’re going to just sit in your room alone in New Orleans and not go out and see the town.” Robyn’s voice fills my hotel room. “Move your ass and answer this door. There is fun to be had.”
Ah yes, New Orleans. I make a groaning sound with my face still half in my pillow. Scrambling out of bed and remembering that I decided to sleep nude last night, I wrap the bedsheet around my waist. I stumble to the door and open it, greeting Robyn with “I’m tired. I need sleep, woman.”
“You can sleep when you’re dead,” she tells me, following me back inside toward my bed. “You played an awesome show last night. We have to celebrate.”
She’s right—the show did go well. But it ran so late we didn’t get a chance to hang out afterward. We haven’t had a chance to spend a moment alone since Charlotte. So I have some ideas about how I’d like to celebrate with Robyn. None of them involve leaving this bed. I dive back in and bury my face in the pillow that mercifully blocks the light from the blinds she’s throwing open.
Robyn yanks at my covers so I roll over and grab her wrist, yanking her into the bed with me.
“Wake up, Johnny Cash,” she says with a laugh. “I’ll even let you wear black and the dark sunglasses all around town.”
I inhale her clean, just-showered scent while pulling her in closer to me.
“Get naked, Breeland. Those are the rules of this bed.”
“I’m not technically
in
the bed.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re on it. Still counts.”
I reach for her but she pulls back. “Come on! There is gumbo and beignets to be had. Street performers to be seen! I’ll even let you order food from something with wheels.” She stands up, leaving the reach of my arms, and I groan.
“I will happily perform for you in this bed all day. Just get naked first.”
A pillow hits me in the head.
“That’s it. You asked for it.”
I jump up in my birthday suit and chase after her in all my buck-naked glory. Robyn runs to the bathroom and tries to shut me out, but I’m a hell of a lot stronger than her so I force the door open and wrap her in my arms. She stops giggling, stares at me with this wicked grin of hers, and I am so owned. But there’s no need for her to know that.
Reaching around her, I grab the shower lever and turn on the water full blast, leaving it completely on cold.
I lift her inside and she screams and squeals so loud it should shatter the glass.
“Oh my God! Dallas! I’ve already had a shower! And that is fucking cold!”
She braces herself with her arms, which provide no shield against the frozen stream whatsoever. But when I look down and her hard pearled nipples are protruding from her white tank top, my focus shifts from punishment to pleasure.
“Lose the clothes and I’ll turn the warm water on.” We’ve been dancing around each other, flirting and making dirty promises, since we agreed to this new arrangement. It’s time to put up or shut up.
“Same rules as your bed then?” The glint in her emerald eyes tells me she’s ready. We’re ready.
Her teeth are chattering so I take pity on her and shove the lever to the warmer side.
“No, baby. Naked in the shower just makes more sense.”
She tosses a rag at me when I step in and I let it fall to the floor in favor of removing her soaked clothing. After I’ve peeled the last item off her body, I let my hands roam in slow appreciation.
As the water heats, so does the look in her eyes.
“What happened to waiting for me to initiate the sex? I was starting to think you were going to make me beg.” She arches an eyebrow and gives me a challenging grin.
“This isn’t sex. This is just good morning.” I press my gaze hard into hers as my hand slips between her thighs. “I meant what I said. I am going to wait. I’m going to wait right here until you’re ready.”
I tease her outer folds with my fingertips. A whimper that sounds close enough to “please” for me escapes her lips and I slide my middle finger into her slick, pulsating heat.
“Fuck,” I moan, knowing exactly how good that clenching is going to feel on my cock. But not yet. Not until she’s sure she wants this with me.
I kneel down, blinking through the water droplets pelting my face, and stare up at her. She arches an interested brow, and I place openmouthed kisses on her inner thighs.
She slides her fingers into my hair. The heat in her gaze is all the permission I need, but I’ll wait for the words.
“Good morning, Robyn.”
“Good morning, Dallas,” she whispers.
I wait patiently until she nods, giving me the permission I’m seeking. I won’t push her past this, but I won’t leave this shower until she’s sated.
Robyn throbs against my mouth, her hips jerking forward the moment my tongue invades the space between her folded flesh.
“Feel good, baby?”
“Y-Yes. But—”
“But?” I pull my head back to glance up at her again.
“After this, we are going out on the town, Dallas. I’m serious.”
I pull her delicate clit into my mouth once more before answering. “You got it, pretty girl. After this.”
“I
can’t believe I’ve never been here before. I wanted to get Leaving Amarillo a few shows in the area but it just never worked out.” I look around at the colorful fabric of culture that is New Orleans. Every corner is painted and decorated like they’re prepared for a yearlong festival.
“Same here,” Robyn says, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the crowd. “I’ve always wanted to come, but I just never got the chance. This is why I love my job. I get to travel and see the world.”
“That the only reason?”
Her eyes widen and I wink to let her know I’m playing around. Except I’m not sure that I am.
“Of course not.” She nudges me in the side. “I have great insurance benefits and a 401(k), too.”
I reach for her, tickling her around the rib cage hard until she cries out.
“Okay, okay! Stop! I
might
enjoy the fact that I get to see you. A little.”
“You’ve seen me a lot more than a little.” I growl softly, then kiss her below the ear.
She whimpers when I let my hands drift lower. “Dallas, we’re in public.”
“I don’t remember that bothering you,” I say, recalling a time after graduation when we indulged in some very public sexual acts in very crowded areas. Thankfully everyone else was too wasted to notice.
“You are so bad,” she tells me.
“You love it.”
Her silence tells me that I’m right. For the next hour we sightsee like she wanted, popping in and out of little shops and even buying some strange voodoo candles. We feed each other beignets and I kiss powdered sugar from her lips.
We grab gumbo for dinner and eat outside on a patio at a place on a busy street corner.
“It’s like it never stops here,” she says. “Like the city has its own heartbeat and it’s just constantly alive and awake.”
Beside us a woman, or it might be a man dressed as a woman, hell if I know, is being shoved into a police car. On the opposite corner a group of young men in tighty whities and wigs and lots of glittery makeup are pole dancing on some building pillars.
“Yeah, it’s alive and awake all right. And parts of it are fucking weird.”
Robyn laughs at my discomfort. “We’re a long way from Amarillo, country boy.”
“You can say that again.”
She grins at me, then leans forward to run her nose against mine. “We’re a long way from Amarillo, country boy.” This time her voice is lower, huskier like I like it. The exact cadence that makes me want to spread her on this table and have her for dessert. This morning was just a taste—an appetizer. I’m ready for the main course.
“I haven’t been a boy in a long time, darlin’.” I wink and give her a light kiss on the tip of her nose. “But I think you know this already.”
Before she can respond, a jazz band starts up right beside where we’re sitting. Robyn doesn’t hesitate.
She jumps up from her dinner and runs to stand beside a dark-skinned gray-haired gentleman playing the saxophone. I watch in wonder as she dances along to the music, twirling until her dark blue dress with the little white flowers on it spins around her. Soon she isn’t alone and if it weren’t for her red hair, I’d be hard-pressed to find her in the crowd.
When I make my way to her, she collapses against my chest. “This is the best place ever. I love it here. Let’s never leave, okay?”
When she looks at up me with so much hope in her eyes, begging me to play along, I can’t help but give her what she wants.
“Okay,” I say, taking her hand for one more twirl. “We’ll never leave.”