Loving Dallas by Caisey Quinn Read Free Book Online Page B

how long he sat at that diner alone.
    Neither option is particularly appealing. But at least with one of them I might actually get some sleep tonight.
    “Um, did we happen to pass a diner on our way here?”
    “A diner?” The driver turns in his seat to face me. He’s attractive, younger than I first realized. His head is shaved and there are tattoos on his arms that look like military insignia but it’s too dark to be able to tell for sure.
    “Um, yeah. A friend of mine said there was a diner near the amphitheater where you picked me up and I was thinking of meeting him there instead of calling it a night. Would that be okay?”
    He shrugs. “It’s your dime, lady. But there are two diners between here and the amphitheater.”
    Crap.
    “Is one of them open all night by chance?”
    “That’d be Rosa’s. You want me to take you?”
    Do I? Should I?
    My head says sure. My heart is too pissed at me to even weigh in right now. I pray for a sign. Usually I look for them in songs on the radio or street names. But tonight the radio is off, and I haven’t paid any attention to the street names. So I go with my gut instincts.
    “Sure. That’d be great.”
    I should’ve changed clothes.
    It’s the only thought I can hold on to as the cabdriver drops me in front of Rosa’s Diner, a small fifties-themed place tucked between a run-down hardware store and an all-night pharmacy.
    For God’s sakes, I still have my Kickin’ Up Crazy tour sponsor pass dangling from the Midnight Bay lanyard around my neck.
    Nice, Robyn. Very sexy.
    I yank it off and shove it in my purse knowing that I should not care about being sexy. This is just pancakes with an old friend. An old friend who might not even show.
    Just as I whip out my compact to check my makeup, I see him out of the corner of my eye. Dallas beat me here, probably because I took a twenty-five-minute detour of indecisiveness. Snapping the compact shut, I pace for a few minutes.
    “ It’s not a big deal, Robyn. Stop acting like a teenager having lunch with the varsity quarterback. It’s just Dallas, ” I whisper-yell at myself. “ You’re being ridiculous. Cut it out. ”
    I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I don’t know why, but it feels like this particular decision is much grander than its outcome warrants.
    It’s pancakes. He’s a friend. No big.
    But as I open the diner door and a bell chimes overhead, his eyes meet mine and the moment feels monumental. I check the steel cage I erected around my heart the moment I learned he was going to be on this tour. Seems fairly sound, no major breaches so far. That I can feel anyway.
    I give Dallas Lark the best I-am-so-over-you, this-is-totally-casual-and-it’s-all-good-in-the-neighborhood smile that I can.
    His answering smirk tells me that one thing definitely hasn’t changed—even after all this time.
    I’m still a crappy liar.

 
    9 | Dallas
    T HE WAY I SEE IT, I HAVE TWO OPTIONS.
    Freeze Robyn out the way I’ve tried to do since she dumped my ass three years ago, or man up and accept the fact that I’m glad to see her on this tour.
    Sitting alone in a diner wondering if she’ll show, I decide to quit being a pussy and let go of the anger and confusion I’ve held on to for so long. She ended things for one reason or another, reasons I may never know, and I have to shove my macho bullshit aside and deal with that like an adult.
    I drum my fingers on the table impatiently while I wait.
    “ Patience, Dallas, ” my granddad used to say when he was first teaching me to play the guitar. I’d get so damn frustrated when my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. “ The music isn’t going anywhere, ” he’d remind me. “ Be patient with it, with yourself. ”
    I’ve just made up my mind to relax and let her know that I’ve put our past behind me when she breezes into the diner. A bell chimes at the door and all the progress I’ve made vanishes like a figment of my imagination.
    Robyn Breeland is the kind of