I can’t be too mad about him possibly upending my job. I meant what I said about it being worth it. It’s unbelievablyniceto finally take a day off. After years of work and stress and servitude, I feel like I’ve been given a reprieve. Ineededthis. And I’m in too good of a mood after the helicopter flight.
And thatkiss.
I still feel like I’m flying.
I honestly don’t care all that much about the job. Maybe Sadie was right when she said it was time. I’m wondering now if I’ll go back to it at all. Ellen the Control Freak Armadillo will be even more of a nightmare than she already was, that’s a given. When a Texan holds a grudge, they getmean, I’ve learned that shit first-hand. Maybe it’s a sign from my ancestors up there in The Great Beyond that it’s time for me to do something else with my life. Like go to New York with Sadie. If I could somehow afford to.
But that’s what jobs are for, after all. Trying like hell to make things better for yourself—even if other people pull the rug out from under you every chance they get, which seems to happen to me on a semi-regular basis.
Maybe things will be different in New York. It’s not like they don’t have restaurants and bars in New York. I’m sure I can find a job somewhere.
Either way, Dallas Wilder has every reason to be cocky, I’ll give him that much. With his hair all sexily messed up from my fingers and the turquoise of his eyes hot-blooded after our kiss, he’s even more handsome, if such a thing was possible.
He really does have outstanding hair. It’s thick and just as manly-silky as it looks when I weaved my fingers through it. His eyes are stormy now. I notice again how tall he is. And big. Those tattoos against the suntan give him the slightest bad-boy edge.
Every woman in the room turns as we walk into the restaurant.
Dallas is holding my hand. A jumble of new emotions filter through me and take me a second to identify.
Am Ijealous, that they’re all staring at him? Am I smug, because he’s so emphaticallywithme? Am I self-conscious, because all the people here are dressed to the nines and even though I’m wearing the new dress Dallas gave me, I still feel like they might be able to see the real me underneath it. The one who serves drinks to people like them.
Yes, to all of the above.
But none of it seems to matter. Dallas keeps tossing out these lavish, borderline-obnoxious promises that deflect off my forcefield but leave warm little dents in it, like they’re trying to melt their way through even if I don’t want them to.
I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you.
Sure you will. In some perfect universe where nothing is real and people don’t betray the ones they’re supposed to love most, smashing their hearts to smithereens in the process.
He’sthe one I need protection from. He’s crazy-intense and more beautiful than any man has a right to be. If I let myself get carried away by him, there’s no telling what could happen.
I decide then and there not to let him affect me too much. I may or may not go to bed with him—onmyterms. BecauseIwant to. Not because I need him or because he’s in any way, shape or form in control of me.
Luckily for me, my heart’s already broken, so it’s not going to be overly impacted by his …alpha-ness. On any level whatsoever.
I just wish he wasn’t so freakinghot. It’s not fair. Or weirdlykind, like he’s oh-so-genuine and actuallymeansthe things he’s saying. And Iespeciallywish he didn’t somehow know how to light up my body like his pheromones are electrically chargedwith million-watt ions or whatever. I have no idea how he does it, but the man has a gift.
And I’m only human. A thoroughly female human who’s waited twenty-two long years for an opportunity that felt like the right one. When and if that opportunity arrives at some point during “the day we’re having,” I’ve already decided I’m going to enjoy the ride. With zero strings attached.
Sadie keeps telling me to stop being so guarded about cashing in my V-card and to seize the day already. It never felt like therightday until now, but this one does. He’s already given me several of my firsts, so I’m at least willing to go with the flow of wherever the rest of the day we’re having takes us.
Either way, I’m nothing if not realistic. If it’s true that Dallas has somehow wrangled another day off for me tomorrow, then we’ll spend another day together. And then I’ll thank my lucky stars I got to spend the weekend flying around in helicopters, riding around in limos, eating in fancy restaurants, potentially losing my proverbial and overrated innocence to a hunky almost-stranger, and get back to reality. I’ve got an entire life to figure out.
The maître d’ notices us—mainly Dallas—as soon as we walk into the restaurant, doing that subtle double-take everyone seems to do in his presence. The slight recalibration. The professional smoothing.
“Mr. Wilder.” The guy sounds almost as breathless as I feel. The Dallas Wilder Effect, I’m calling it. “We’re honored you’d choose Maison Rêve. We’ve saved the best table for you.”
“Thank you.” Blasé again, like he expects nothing less.
We’re guided past several groups of people at the bar whohave clearly been waiting longer than we have but don’t care because they’re all doing the same double-take, and we’re led to a raised corner table near the window with a half-wall of privacy and a view straight down Royal Street. The best seat in the house.
Maison Rêve is known as a place where celebrities and the well-heeled like to be seen. In fact, I think I recognize a quarterback. And a country music singer.
Walking through the chic restaurant on Dallas Wilder’s arm feels like stepping into a life that belongs to someone else. In a good way, mainly. Like when you try on some million-dollar suede jacket in an upmarket store just to see how it fits without ever bothering to look at the price tag because you know it’ll never be yours.
Just as we reach our table, a young woman around my age rushes up to us. She’s absolutely giddy with excitement. She’s clutching her phone and has the lit-up energy of a banshee of adoration who couldn’t be more thrilled.
"Oh. My.God,” she squeals, staring up at Dallas with literal stars in her eyes. “You’reDallas Wilder.”
