What If I Never

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “She did,” I say. “I just can’t seem to let go yet, which is why I’m here until after the holidays.”

  “Unless you decide to stay.”

  “Allison is coming back and I know you all are looking forward to her return.”

  His lips press together in a barely perceivable way, but I notice. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for one more if it’s the right one more.”

  From there, the conversation flows like a job interview, with Tyler my unexpected advocate, which makes for a far more comfortable conversation. I’m not alone. I’m with him which is appreciated. We’re about twenty minutes in when Tyler’s phone rings.

  “I need to take this,” he says, and before I can process me being left alone with Jack, it happens. I have no idea why this shoots a dart of nerves in me but it does.

  “I actually should pop into the ladies’ room,” I say, reaching for my purse, and Lord help me, I strike again. It falls to the ground. Thankfully it doesn’t spill and I grab it, only to have Jack reach down and hold up the velvet necklace box. “What’s this?”

  I swallow hard and before I can stop him, he’s opened the lid. His eyes narrow on the necklace and lift to me. “It’s beautiful. Why don’t wear it instead of carrying it around?”

  “It’s not mine. It belongs to—a friend. I told her I’d ship it to her and didn’t have time to get to it today.” The lie does not flow easily, but rather, like a lie—awkward and heavy.

  He shuts the lid and hands it back to me. “Too bad. It would look lovely on you, Allison.”

  There is something a little too warm in his voice and I quickly accept the velvet box and slide it back into my purse.

  “What did I miss?” Tyler asks.

  My attempted bathroom escape was initially to avoid Jack, but there is no escaping my spilled purse debacle. I hold my breath, expecting Jack to bring up the necklace that Tyler may well have sent Allison but he doesn’t. “I was just about to ask Allison to update us on the auction.”

  The transition from the necklace to the auction is a clunky one for me, but I eventually fall into the conversation with the energy worthy of my hard work. It’s a good hour later when we all stand to depart.

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” Tyler offers.

  Jack extends his hand and I press my palm to his, only to have him hold onto it. “I suspect I’ll see you soon, Allison.” For another beat, he’s still holding me, until finally, he releases me.

  Tyler’s eyes glint at his father before he motions for me to walk ahead of him. Once we’re outside, he steps to my side. “Where are we going?”

  “Around the corner. You don’t have to walk me.”

  “I’m walking you,” he says, as stubborn as when Dash had said the same to me.

  I sigh with resignation and start walking with him falling into step with me, but he says nothing, not a word. It’s not until we’re standing at the driver’s side of Dash’s car that he says, “What happened between you and my father when I took that call?”

  “Nothing really.”

  “Try again.”

  I hesitate and reach in my purse, showing him the necklace box and watching him closely as I open the lid. There’s no recognition in his face, no reaction. His gaze lifts to mine. “Is that for the auction and if so, why are you carrying it around?”

  “It fell out of my purse and your father saw it, and no, it’s not for the auction. It was delivered to Allison W. with a note, but I got it at the museum. That’s how I ended up at your offices, asking for her.”

  His expression doesn’t change, but I swear his energy read likes an invisible flinch. “What did the note say?”

  “That seems private and—”

  “What did the note say?”

  “Forgive me.”

  His chest expands and his jaw tics. “Don’t walk around with something so obviously expensive, Ms. Wright. It’s not a smart or safe idea.”

  The latter comment feels a bit like deflection, despite the fact that he’s really not wrong. “Did she call you?”

  “No,” he says. “She didn’t call me, but we’ll assume she’s occupied.”

  “Do you know who sent the necklace? Maybe we can call him and check on her?”

  “No. No, I don’t know who sent the necklace.”

  “Should we be worried?”

  “She’s a free woman, Ms. Wright. And she’s made a choice. Unless you want to get in my car, and go to my home with me, get in your car so that I know you’re safe. Therefore I can leave.”

  I open my mouth to argue and he says, “Don’t,” and there’s something in the way he says it that cuts and not me. Him. He cared about Allison, and I’m not sure he knew, until now, just how much. I’ve sideswiped him in the worst of ways. I get in my car and lock the doors. He’s already walking away. And he seems to know that Allison walked away. Because freedom is a right and a choice, I remind myself.

  I start the car, but I’m uncomfortable in every possible way.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  It’s finally time for Dash to arrive home and I’m alone in an empty airport wing, awaiting his flight, so nervous it’s really kind of ridiculous. It’s not like we haven’t been naked together, many times at this point, and talked and texted every day. Just last night we spent an hour talking about his week and my weird encounters with both Tyler and Jack Hawk. For a moment, I calm myself by thinking back to that conversation:

  “He didn’t act like he’d ever seen the necklace before,” I tell him.

  “I told you Tyler would not have sent that necklace to the office, which was the sender’s intent.”

  “I think maybe he loved her,” I say, thinking about Tyler’s reaction to the note sent with the necklace.

  “I think it’s a little more complicated than that with Tyler. He likes control. He doesn’t have it. That’s a problem for him.”

  “Maybe. He did say she was a free woman and chose to leave, I’m paraphrasing slightly, I think.”

  “And she didn’t choose the way he wanted.”

  “What happened between you and Tyler?”

  “That’s a complicated story, Allie.”

  I come back to the present with the same conclusion I’d had last night. Dash has secrets or perhaps not secrets, but things he’s just not ready to tell me, and perhaps never will. But then, don’t I have the same? How do I judge him when I’m guilty of the same?

  It’s right then that Dash’s plane taxis to a halt under a private hanger. My heart is exaggerating every beat again at this point, and I pace about a bit, before returning to the window.

  Finally, Dash is walking across the tarmac, and my God, the man is the kind of sin that drives a girl crazy. In black jeans, and a black leather jacket, with so much swagger, he puts swagger in the swagger, and my heart is literally in my throat. I don’t remember any man ever affecting me in such an over-the-top way. Willing my pulse to calm, I move center to the door where he can see me when he enters the building.

  The door opens and his eyes find me instantly, a smile sliding over his face, and then we’re moving toward each other. We come together in an embrace and he’s kissing me, a long, deep kiss that is highly inappropriate, but neither one of us seem to care. The smell of him, the feel of him, and I’m alive when I wasn’t just moments before.

  “Miss me, baby?” he asks when we come up for air. “Because I damn sure missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” I say, surprised at how much I mean those words.

  “Then how about we go home, order takeout, and get naked?”

  I don’t miss the way he references home as if it’s my home, too, when of course, he doesn’t mean it literally. “You do remember we have the Jason Aldean thing tonight, right?”

  “We have hours until then.” He leans in near my ear, and says, “Plenty of time for me to lick you in all those places you like to be licked.”

  I’m reminded of how dirty Dash can be, a lot more than he’s shown me, I
am certain. There’s a lot about this man I don’t know, but I truly hope to find out.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  By the time Dash and I enter his apartment, we’re all over each other. It doesn’t take long and we end up naked on his living room floor, and then in the shower together. At this point, we haven’t eaten, and Dash suggests we go out to a taco joint he knows and loves. With this in mind, both of us dress for Aldean’s. Dash in black jeans, black biker-style boots, and a T-shirt. Me in a black jean skirt with a flare, and a black lacy top. I’ve just sat down on the couch in the bedroom and pulled on my boots when Dash sits down on the coffee table in front of me.

  In his hand is a necklace-sized velvet box and my heart is racing all over again. “You’ve been obsessing over another woman’s necklace sent to her by another man. I thought you needed something that said me and you, not them.” He opens the lid and displays a delicate chain with a sparkling pendant in the center.

  I smile and laugh when I realize it’s a cupcake. “Oh my God. It’s gorgeous and it’s really a cupcake. How did you find that?”

  “I got lucky,” he says. “I went into the store for a necklace and they had a cupcake. It was like it was meant to be.”

  He went into a store, shopping for me. My heart is mush. I mean I know that we’re both kind of a mess for our own reasons, we are. We’re probably going to break each other, but right now, in this moment, I feel as if maybe, just maybe, we need each other. And isn’t that what matters?

  “I love it, Dash. I really do.” My hand settles on his jaw. “Thank you.”

  He catches my hand and kisses it, and when he does, when our eyes meet again, there’s a shift between us I cannot explain. There is something happening between me and this man that I am so beyond stopping. Maybe he is, too. We’re riding a wave that will eventually crash and I just don’t know if that will be into each other or someplace dark and lonely.

  “Let me help you put it on,” he offers.

  “I’d like that.” I stand up and he pulls the necklace from the velvet.

  I lift my hair and turn around. Dash steps behind me and connects the chain. “Done,” he says.

  Letting my hair fall down my neck, I turn to face him. “How does it look?”

  He cups my face. “Beautiful, baby. Absolutely beautiful.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Dash and I Uber to Jason Aldean’s place from the taco spot with the knowledge that we’ll be drinking and only have a short walk back to his place from the bar.

  The tacos are fabulous, but not so fabulous is the line to get inside Aldean’s which is absolutely ridiculous. But thanks to Bella, and our VIP passes waiting on us, Dash and I end up inside rather easily. Hand in hand, we head to the table his sister has reserved for the three of us. Bella, dressed in an adorable, belted navy-blue dress and boots, greets me with a hug. “How was that thing you had with Jack and Tyler?”

  “Weird,” I say as Dash and I claim a seat across from her. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”

  “That sounds about right,” she says, flagging a waitress and motioning to us, but not without her recommendation. “I suggest the lemons drops.”

  “She always suggests the lemon drops,” Dash comments dryly.

  “Then they must be good,” I say, eyeing the waiter. “I’ll take a lemon drop.”

  Dash shakes his head at us and orders a beer. The three of us then fall into easy conversation until Bella’s gaze lifts toward the door. “The record producer is here. Wish us luck.” Just that fast, she’s up and gone.

  There’s another band on now, and Dash and I enjoy the music, with me doing a whole lot of singing along. It’s finally time for Bella’s guy to take the stage and just before he starts his first number, Bella reappears and kneels beside our table. “I need you two to get up and dance. It encourages others to do the same. It makes my client look good.” She assumes our agreement, and slides into her seat, turning to watch the stage.

  Her client, a good-looking youngish man with dark hair, and a guitar hanging across his body steps to the microphone. “Hi there, Nashville,” he greets. “I’m Tony Michaels, and since we’re in Aldean’s place, let’s play a little Aldean.” The music starts and the crowd goes nuts as he begins to sing “Dirt Road Anthem.”

  Bella waves at us to get up and dance. Dash grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet and onto the dance floor. To my complete surprise, Dash doesn’t just know how to country dance. He knows how to do it well. He’s twirling me around the floor and it’s not long until we’re two among many. The dance floor is jam-packed. “You’re pretty good,” I say. “I thought you were from Boston.”

  “And now Nashville is home.” He leans in, his lips near my ear. “Just like Nashville is your home.”

  My chest tightens with the implications of his words. This is home. He is home. “Yes,” I find myself whispering, and meaning, with all my heart. “Yes, it is.”

  And it’s pretty clear that we’re no longer talking about dancing. We’re talking about me staying here. We’re talking about us. The song blends into Aldean’s “I Don’t Drink Anymore,” and Dash and with him, the mood, shift to more fun and good times. Dash and I are now both singing along. Dash twirls me around and my gaze lands on the bar on the opposite side of the dance floor. My lips parting as I realize that Tyler, of all people, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, which is so oddly not him to me, but somehow works on him, is standing right there, watching us.

  Dash twirls me again and I say, “Tyler’s here.”

  “When a record studio is involved, that doesn’t surprise me.”

  “He’s in jeans.”

  Dash laughs. “You say that like he’s wearing a clown suit.”

  “I feel like he is.”

  He laughs again, and I forget about Tyler. The singer is really good, and I haven’t been dancing in so very long. And I’ve never been dancing with Dash Black. For the first time in a long time, I just let myself have fun. For the next hour we dance, we break and drink, and we dance some more, all without seeing Tyler again. I must drink more than I realize though because this time, when Dash and I head to the dance floor, I feel the vodka in my light-headedness. I sway and Dash catches me. “You okay, baby?”

  I have a moment when I realize how normal him calling me “baby” has become. And I like it. So much. I like him. Too much for my own good. “I think I better go to the bathroom and freshen up,” I say. “Lemon drops are the devil. No more. Ever.”

  He doesn’t laugh. He strokes hair from my face and tilts my gaze to his. “I told you, Allie, I got you, baby.”

  A million emotions I blame on vodka wash over me, but he doesn’t expect the response I don’t have. That’s something I love about Dash. He doesn’t live the “I get what I give” mentality. He gives. Even if he doesn’t get. He slides an arm around me and I ease under his shoulder, feeling a little more stable now than minutes before. I think maybe all that was wrong was that I got up too fast, and with the heat of so many bodies in this place, paired with the drinking, it was just a bad combination.

  I leave Dash at the door and head into the bathroom. I’m definitely a lot better now. I freshen up and step outside to join Dash. What I find is not just Dash, but Dash and Tyler. Standing only a few feet away, toe-to-toe, both stiff, shoulders rolled forward, it’s clear—this is not a friendly meeting. They look like they’re about to throw blows.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  I’m at Dash’s side, grabbing his arm in as many seconds as it takes me to close the space between me and him, and whatever is going on between him and Tyler.

  “What is this?” I demand. “What is happening right now?”

  “Stay out of this, Allie,” Dash orders, trying to pull me behind him.

  “This is where the coin flips, Dash,” Tyler bites out. “This is where I do to you what you did to me. You’re not good for her. Step away before she gets hurt.”

  Dash sways toward him and I step in front of hi
m, my hands on his chest. “Walk away, Dash. What he says doesn’t matter. What we say, me and you, is all that matters.” But he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at Tyler, and his expression is pure fury.

  “What are you going to do?” Tyler demands, pressing Dash, and that is not a good idea right now. “Hit me?” he continues. “Does she know that about you? That you like to hit things?”

  I have no idea what that means and I don’t even care right now. I just want this to end but it’s not even close to over.

  “You’re pushing me, Tyler,” Dash says, his voice low, lethal, “and not to a place either of us want to go.”

  I rotate in front of Dash, back to his chest, and point at Tyler. “You, walk away. Neither of you can afford to have this go any further.”

  “I’ll take you home,” he says, when I know he knows that he’s going too far, punching at Dash without ever lifting a fist, but he just won’t stop. He keeps going. “It’s better that way,” he adds, “I know it and so does Dash.”

  Dash grabs my arm and turns me to him. “Me or him, Allie. Choose now.”

  “We already had this conversation. There is no choice to make. There was never a choice to make. It was always you. It’s still you.”

  He stares down at me, seconds ticking by, in which, thank God, Tyler keeps his mouth shut, but suddenly Dash releases my hand. Then he’s stepping around me and Tyler, and walking away. I move to go after him, but I’m halted as Tyler catches my arm. I whirl on him, seething. “Let me go, Tyler. This is not your business.”

  “If he fucks you up, you’ll pack up and leave. So yes, it’s my business.”

  “I don’t know what this is tonight, or what happened before I walked up. I don’t even care what set you off. We both know it’s not about that. It’s about you and Dash, and you and Dash alone, and I don’t appreciate being made into a game piece. I have too much going on in my life to be in the middle of this war. I quit. I’m done.”

  I jerk at my arm and he doesn’t let go. “You’re choosing wrong.”