I look up when I hear a loud rumble coming from outside the bar.
Dallas’ motorcycle pulls into the spot beside my car. After he steps off his bike, he removes his helmet, and his gaze immediately shifts to the glass between us. He’s a considerable distance away, but our view of each other is perfectly clear.
The sky outside is bright blue, and the afternoon sun shines down on Dallas. His torn jeans are tucked into his heavy black boots, paired with his black bar shirt. I shake my head. The man is crazy to be wearing that outfit when the cement is hot enough to cook an egg.
I stop shaking my head when he opens the door. He’s carrying his helmet in one of his hands, and he sets it down on the counter when he reaches me.
Despite all the hours, minutes, and seconds since the last time I saw Dallas early this morning, nothing has prepared me for how I’m feeling in this moment. I haven’t thought about how it would feel, knowing I snuck out this morning. All I’ve been able to think about is how incredible last night was.
Every memory of it comes flooding back, heating my skin like the unforgiving sun outside.
“Hey.” There’s a slight tilt to the corner of his mouth, but then his expression shifts as his eyebrows knit together.
“Hey.” Seeing Dallas for the first time since this morning feels different, at least it does for me. My heart thrashes in my chest, bouncing around like one of those old alarm clocks, rocking back and forth.
“I was surprised you left so early this morning.” He plays his statement off as indifferent, not caring whether I did or not, more of an observation than any form of concern.
“I thought this was part of rule number one, to not let this interfere with our work.”
“We aren’t working right now,” Dallas says, his eyes moving around the empty bar. The dining room is empty aside from the both of us, and Gareth is still tucked away in the back on his phone call.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and give him a small smile. “I wasn’t entirely sure where we stood on that topic. I thought you would rather have me leave. Isn’t that what you do in arrangements such as ours?”
His sculpted jaw twists in thought, considering my answer. “You have a point. But I can’t deny that I was slightly disappointed to find you had snuck out.” He takes a step closer to me and leans on the counter beside him, using his elbow to prop him up.
“Really?” I ask, surprised by his confession.
“Let’s just say in the future, sleeping over is optional.” He smirks, and fuck if it doesn’t make me want to lunge forward, claiming his mouth with mine. But I bite back the feeling, thinking back to our first rule.
“Okay.” I swallow.
“Glad we cleared that up.” Dallas steps even closer to me as his eyes shift down to the binder I’m still holding in my hand. He points to it.
“What’s that?”
“Oh.” I shift my gaze down then swing it back to his. “It’s nothing, really. Just a bunch of cover songs.”
“For what?”
“For me…” I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth, unsure of how to answer him. “For me to look over.” It’s the only answer I’m able to come up with.
From the looks of it, he doesn’t know I’m the one Colton has suggested takes the position, but I can’t see a reason why he wouldn’t want him to know either.
He steps closer to me, eliminating the remaining space between us. His heated breath mingles with mine as he pinches a chunk of my hair between his fingers, tucking the strands behind my ear.
“Look over for what?” His forehead creases in thought. He’s poking and prodding, coaxing an answer out of me.
I sigh, reveling in the way it feels to have Dallas’ body pushed against mine. I blink, shaking my head and swiping my tongue across my mouth. “It’s on a trial basis, but Colton asked if I could perform on stage one of these nights this summer. I nonchalantly blurted out that I can sing when he hired me, and I offered to do it just to see.”
“You can sing?” Dallas lowers his arm and steps back a couple inches, breaking our touch. I can’t explain what caused him to suddenly back away from me, but I try not to think too much about it. We still haven’t put a name to what this is between us, but I know I shouldn’t care what he thinks about me singing.
“Yeah.” I step away from the wall. “I wouldn’t say I’m record-worthy, but I’ve sung a few times here and there.”
“Colton didn’t mention you were the one he hired.”
“Well, I am.” I twist the corner of my mouth. “In a way. Like I said, it’s just on a trial basis to see if I’m even comfortable with it.”
“You’re kidding.” His dark eyebrows arch across his forehead in surprise.
“No,” I tell him. “Is it really that bad of an idea? You’ve never even heard me sing.” Anger simmers under my chest at his reaction. I admit I haven’t been my own best cheerleader, but Dallas’ lack of enthusiasm digs deeper than I expected. I’m confused to say the least.
“It’s not a bad idea,” he says, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “So, what kind of music are you singing to? A pre-recorded track, or are you singing acapella?”
“No.” I pick at the plastic cover on the binder, not sure how Dallas will take the news that someone else will be playing the guitar, on his stage in his bar. “Colton hired someone to play guitar.”
“Who?” he asks. There’s no denying that his dark blue eyes have somehow grown a few shades darker than normal. Anger ebbs its way into his body language, and his jaw clenches tighter as his body tenses.
“Me.”
Dallas’ eyes move past my shoulder, and I spin halfway around in my stool to find Gareth standing behind me.
“What the fuck?” Dallas says. “Colton hired you?”
Gareth sidles up beside me, and Dallas’ eyes shift to the guitar resting on his stand.
“He did.” Gareth gives Dallas a sly grin, and the same feeling I felt when I saw the two of them before washes over me now. There’s something between these two men, and now, knowing Gareth will be the one to play with me on our live entertainment night has set Dallas off.
Chapter Sixteen
After waking up later than usual and finding Sloan was no longer at my house, I decide to run through the park near campus. It’s been well over two years since I’ve been there. The last time was with Hailey, just after we played a full night of shows, hopping from one bar to the next across the city. Even though we were both exhausted, we sat down on one of the benches. We sat together as people passed us. Hailey sang. I played my guitar.
I pass by that same bench today, forcing myself to acknowledge that it still exists. The trees surrounding it are still there. Their branches are swaying in the early morning breeze, not yet touched by the sun. Everything is exactly the same as the last time I was here, yet everything in my life is completely different.
After my run, I go home to shower then head over to the bar. Colton told me he was going to be there, working on his plans for the next month to drive up business. I have a few ideas up my sleeve, first starting with a new signature drink menu. It’s my way of making up to Colton for my lack of attention to the restaurant these past few months.
The outline of Sloan’s and my rules for each other were damn near perfect.
Rule number one: Keep it simple.
Rule number two: Don’t ask about my past.
But everyone knows there’s no such thing as perfection.
Our rules are almost like an undocumented contract. There are clauses in the contract, the fine print no one ever mentions and almost everyone ignores.
Like how I’m supposed to deal with the fact that Sloan snuck out of my house before the sun even came up. Her escape shouldn’t bother me. In fact, it doesn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was completely caught off guard to find she had left without a single word, especially after the night we spent together. Sloan doesn’t come across as the type of woman who disappears after a ni
ght like we had.
I can’t deny I was disappointed.
I imagined her straddling me in the middle of a deep sleep, lowering herself down onto my hardened cock. Instead, I woke up with my cock as hard as a rock and the space beside me empty.
Though Sloan and I have now ironed out the fine print for rule number one, it doesn’t prepare me for the person standing in front of me now, or the guitar resting on my stand.
The unfamiliar instrument belongs to the familiar man standing beside Sloan, staring back at me. He’s wearing khaki shorts that are a few inches too high above his knee, and his hair has a bit too much gel keeping it pulled back off his forehead.
“I didn’t know you play guitar,” I tell him. Honestly, I’m surprised he knows how to do anything other than drink and hit on women in my bar.
“Yeah.” He waves me off. “I’ve played since I was a kid. I’ve never played on stage before, but I can’t wait to try it out, especially with a beautiful woman singing beside me.”
Sloan turns her head to the side, caught off guard by Gareth’s comment. Then her smooth cheeks blush pink when she shifts back to me.
She shrugs one shoulder then rolls her eyes. Her elbow is propped on the counter as she rests her head in her hand. She looks bored with this conversation. I am too, but I can’t see past the fact that Colton somehow thought this was a good idea.
“When are you guys supposed to perform?” I ask them.
Sloan sits up and her lips part as if she’s about to answer, but Gareth cuts her off. “Colton said he’s shooting for two weeks.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Two weeks?”
“Yeah. I figured Colton mentioned it to you.” Gareth nods then turns to grab his guitar from my stand. He places it into his case, snapping the clasps shut. “I should head out though. When did you want to meet up again, Sloan? Would tomorrow be okay?”
“Um…” She reaches behind her, rubbing her palm against the back of her neck. “Sure.”
“Great, we can meet here again tomorrow. Same time.” He reaches out and places the tips of his fingers on Sloan’s arm. I curl my fingers into a near fist then stretch them back out. Seeing him touching Sloan stirs something inside me.
His hand falls away and he grabs his guitar before he starts heading to the front door.
“Later, Dallas,” he yells, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he pushes through the front door.
When he’s gone, I turn back to Sloan, but she’s already standing, placing the strap of her purse on her shoulder. She looks just as annoyed as I am, but I can’t understand why. I don’t know her true feelings toward Gareth. Was she just as caught off guard as I was when she found out he’s the one she’ll be playing with? Does she dislike him as much as I do? Or maybe she does like him, and she is too embarrassed to admit it.
“Why did you agree to play with him?”
“What?” she asks, stunned by my sudden shift in mood. I can’t help it. I hate Gareth for reasons I don’t want Sloan to know. All I know is the man can’t be trusted.
I step closer to her. “Why did you agree to this?”
“Colton asked me to help out.” She scoffs. “He needed someone who could sing, and believe it or not, Dallas…I can sing.”
“I never said you couldn’t.”
Her eyes turn to two small slits as she tips her chin up. “You haven’t done a very good job hiding your skepticism.”
I pause, not knowing what to do. I do know I want to talk to Colton and figure this out. I can hear him moving around in the kitchen, talking to one of our prep chefs.
“I have to go,” Sloan says, bringing my attention back to her. She’s ready to walk out the door, but I stop her before she’s able to pass me.
“Are you sure this is a good idea working with him?” I wave to the front door where Gareth is hopping into his truck. It’s entirely too big, and the color is the shade of cat vomit.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I don’t know too much about him and not enough for me to make a proper assumption. It isn’t fair if I immediately write him off. Colton thinks he’s a great fit to play, so I have to give him a chance, right?”
“You really don’t,” I tell her. I leave out the part where the thought of him playing guitar to her singing makes my head pound and my arms tense. Gareth isn’t as great of a person as everyone makes him out to be.
“What does it matter, Dallas?” She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “I don’t have to, but I want to. I want to do this for Colton and Vada, and for your business. What’s the big deal?”
I stare at her, thinking of the best way to answer her. A battle rages inside me. My first instinct is to tell her not to get involved with Gareth and explain that this is a bad idea. The man only wants to sleep with her, that much is clear. But the other part of me knows I shouldn’t care.
“I just think you should be careful.”
“I can handle it, Dallas. Seriously, it isn’t that big of a deal.”
“Okay. Forget it then.”
“Are you sure? Because that’s the second time I’ve seen you with Gareth, and both times it looked like you wanted to connect your fist to his face. You obviously don’t agree with this arrangement.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I hate leaving Sloan this way, but I also can’t get the image of his fingers touching her skin out of my head. My thoughts are all fucked up, and the only thing I can think to do is talk to Colton.
“Fine, but I’m just letting you know you have no right to be upset. Colton was only doing what he thought was best for the business.”
I let silence fall between me and Sloan. I’m too angry to even fight with her on this. She doesn’t understand how far back Gareth and I go.
The silence swells, becoming too much for either of us to handle.
Sloan sighs, and her shoulders fall in retreat. “I’ll see you later.”
I leave the dining room, but not before I watch Sloan storm out the front door, the binder resting in the crook of her arm.
I push through the kitchen doors and make my way toward one of the prep stations. Colton’s standing over a large metal pot, adding several cups of brown sugar. He’s making barbecue sauce.
“Why in the hell did you think it would be a good idea to hire Gareth to play with Sloan on stage?”
“Hello to you too, Dallas.” Colton’s eyebrows arch across his forehead above his glasses. He pours the last of the brown sugar in then grabs the whisk, stirring the mixture in circles.
“I don’t understand.” I brush off his sarcasm; I’m too angry to deal with it. “You know he’s a shitty person.”
“He’s not that bad, Dallas. I didn’t see I had much choice.” He shrugs as he continues whisking.
“How so?” I ask him, leaning on the counter with closed fists. My knuckles dig into the cold metal, but I don’t care. I need Colton to reconsider letting Gareth perform with Sloan.
“Let me see.” His back is now turned toward me as he lifts the pot and moves it to the stove behind him. He clicks on the burner, and the flames underneath spark to life. “Other than working out front and taking inventory of the liquor, you haven’t been around much to discuss business. You refused to talk about some sort of live entertainment night or the possibility of you playing again. Other than you, Gareth is the only one I know who knows how to play guitar and plays it well.”
He doesn’t look angry, and he doesn’t seem defensive. He looks defeated, as if he’s too exhausted for this conversation. I can’t understand why he’s acting as if hiring Gareth isn’t a poor decision. I may have been absent from the restaurant this past year, but at least I had a legitimate excuse. Colton is running on fumes. Part of me feels guilty, knowing a part of it most likely is because of me. I don’t want Colton to feel as if the burden of this business solely falls on him.
“I can’t believe this.” I push off the table and run my palm down the side of my face. I feel betrayed by my best friend. He not
only went behind my back by hiring Gareth, but also didn’t come to me to let me know. “How come you didn’t talk to me about this before you had him come over here?”
“I did. Remember when I told you I had the live entertainment night figured out? You literally said ‘Great’ and then walked away. As I said before, you haven’t exactly been interested in making any serious business decisions or coming up with new ideas. What’s the big deal?” Colton’s still whisking the sauce, not bothering to face me. “I’ve seen him in here talking to Sloan, so it’s not like he’s a complete stranger to her. They’ve talked before.”
“Yeah, that’s because he comes in here almost every night of the week and hits on all our female customers. Does Vada know you hired him?”
“No. Why would I tell her? This is a business decision and has nothing to do with her.”
Anger stings across the back of my neck and heat swells in my chest. “Right, Colton. This was a business decision, and you didn’t even tell me, and my name is on the fucking sign.” I wave to the far wall in the kitchen where our logo is painted, similar to the one out in the dining room.
“Exactly.” He raises his voice. “You’re an owner.”
Silence settles between us, and he sighs and stops whisking. He turns around and leans forward on the counter.
“I’ve been patient and I’ve been understanding, but even that has its limits, Dallas. You can’t expect me to sit by and let this place slip away when you aren’t willing to make any of the decisions or even be present. We’re supposed to be partners in this. And as far as Gareth is concerned…” He nudges his glasses up his nose and crosses his arms. “I know he comes here almost every night, but I also know he brings in a lot of business. Despite what you think about him, he’s fairly popular in this town. What I don’t understand is why you’re so concerned who Sloan performs with. I thought you would be happy that I figured out a way for us to have live entertainment nights and you don’t have to play.”
“I don’t care who Sloan performs with.”
He raises his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Sounds to me like you do.”
The Rules of Heartbreak: An Enemies-to-Lovers/Next-Door Neighbor Romance (The Heartbreak Series Book 1) Page 16
