Loving Dallas - Caisey Quinn Page 0,37
and that she’d be a part of that. Apparently I was wrong.
I hate being wrong.
18 | Robyn
THE AMPHITHEATER IN GREENVILLE IS LARGE AND HAS A SLIGHTLY different setup than we’re used to so Katie and Drew and I get creative. Or rather, I plot.
Placing Dallas’s meet-and-greet on the east end of the stadium seating means I won’t have to interact with him as much. So I set up the red line bottles for his display and take the blue line ones to the west end.
I tell Katie she’s in charge and leave Drew with her. For Jase’s side of the display I will have to be both organizer and photographer, but that’s fine. Drew loaned me his spare camera so I familiarize myself with it while I wait for the venue to start letting fans in.
Jase joins me while I’m testing out the flash.
“Whoa, darlin’. How about not blinding me before the show?”
“Sorry, Mr. Wade.” I lower the flashbulb.
“You can call me Jase. You’re Robyn, right? I think we’ll be spending enough time together to refer to each other on a first-name basis.”
“Right. Of course. Whatever you prefer.”
“Well, that’s a dangerous thing to say. I don’t think you could handle what I would prefer.”
He nails me with a wicked grin and I can’t even pretend to contain my shock. Apparently Dallas can’t, either.
“The fuck did you just say to her?”
I practically twitch out of my skin in surprise. I didn’t hear him walk over. But Jase just grins and holds his hands up. “Easy, killer. I was just being honest.”
Dallas clears his throat harshly and redirects his attention from Jase to me. “So where do you want me?”
The hard edge in his voice and the loaded question itself sends heat up my neck.
“Um, you’re over there. On the other end with Katie and Drew.”
Dallas regards me with anger and apprehension in his intense stare. I blew him off and now I’m separating us as much as I can in the one place we actually should be together. Maybe it’s immature, but I’m not in a place where I can watch women fawning all over him right this moment.
“You lost, kid?” Jase says to Dallas when he makes no move to leave. “She just said your display is over there.”
“You got a problem, Wade? I don’t recall her asking for your—”
“Okay, boys,” I interrupt, moving between them. “Everybody has an equally big . . . guitar,” I say. “To your corners. Fans are coming in.”
I place a hand on Dallas’s chest and shove him toward where his meet-and-greet is.
His fingers encircle my wrist reminiscent of the way they did in the bedroom not too long ago. “So this how it’s gonna be with us now?”
“We’re not discussing this now, not here,” I say, nodding toward the steady stream of fans pouring into the aisles.
“After the show then?”
“We’ll see.”
After I’ve wrangled him over to Katie, I head back to Jase, where fans are waiting impatiently for me to take their pictures. I apologize half a dozen times and get started. But the entire time, I can feel his eyes on me. More so when I have to step closer to Jase or when Jase comes over to talk to me between pictures.
I’m just doing my job, Dallas. Back off.
I try to send the message telepathically to him, but judging from the hard glare he gives me when he has to leave to take the stage, the message was not received.
“You cannot ever do that to me again.” I corner Dallas backstage after his show, having had time to grow angrier about his Neanderthal behavior. “How would you feel if I stormed into your meet-and-greets and snapped at your fans the way you went after Jase? Do you even know what could happen if you piss him off?”
“First of all,” Dallas begins, whirling on me, “I am not afraid of him. And second of all, he was out of line. If one of my fans got out of line like that and you called her out, I’d probably sport wood for a month from that memory alone.”
“You so do not get it. And here I thought you took this seriously.”
He zeroes in on me with the precision of a hawk. “Oh I take it very seriously. The question is, does he?”
“It was one night, Dallas.”
“Bullshit. Maybe it was one night recently, but we both know it’s a hell of a lot more than that.”
“You do not own me,” I state firmly, planting my