woman who steals your breath away just by entering a room and gifting you with a smile.
I shouldn’t be surprised—she’s pretty much always had this heart-stopping effect on me. But I thought the high from tonight’s show might curtail my reaction to her a bit.
It didn’t.
“Hey,” I say, standing to greet her. “You made it.”
“You know me,” she says with a shrug. “Can’t resist pancakes.”
I fake a wounded look. “And here I was telling myself you might’ve come for the company.”
I add “come” to my mental list of words not to say around Robyn, for my dick’s sake. He has some cherished memories of her that are fairly easy to evoke.
Robyn blushes as if she might be thinking something along the same lines.
“It’s good to see you, Dallas.” She says it like she means it and I grin like a lovesick jackass when she barely lets me give her a one-armed hug before we slide into the booth. “And I caught part of your show tonight. The crowd seemed really into ‘Better to Burn.’ I read that it’s been getting some radio play, which is great, right?”
I nod at an approaching waitress and avoid Robyn’s eyes. If I look directly at her, she’ll see the truth burning in them. She always could see right through me.
“Yeah, Dixie wrote that one. It’s doing well.”
Thankfully before Robyn can inquire any further into my songwriting, a waitress comes over to take our order.
“What’ll it be, kids?” Our waitress’s name is Kay and she has pens stuck in her hair, her shirt pocket, and her apron. Maybe if I kept pens handy like that I’d actually get a decent lyric or two written.
“The blueberry oatmeal pancakes and an orange juice, please,” Robyn answers after barely glancing at the menu.
“I’ll have the double bacon cheeseburger with loaded cheese fries and a large Coke.”
“Holy cardiac arrest on a plate.” Robyn reaches for the waitress before she turns away. “He was just kidding. He’ll have the black and blue steak salad with the dressing on the side and a Diet Coke.”
My mouth drops open and I am literally at a loss for words. Kay looks to me for confirmation. I shrug because what else can I do? Throw a tantrum and demand my fucking cheeseburger? That seems like a good way to make Robyn regret meeting me here.
Once Kay has corrected my order on her notepad and walked away, I make a face at Robyn. “Well, that was . . . emasculating. Thank you.”
She bites her lower lip and creases appear in her smooth forehead. “Are you trying to kick the bucket before thirty or what? Your grandfather just had a fatal heart attack, which probably means heart disease runs in your family. So maybe you should, I don’t know, have something other than a cow topped with a pig dipped in grease for dinner.”
“Well, when you put it that way, sure, Robyn. A salad sounds super filling. Can’t wait.”
She grins and a dimple I used to have a habit of kissing every time I saw her pops out in her left cheek. “It will be. Get a glass of water, too. Drink the entire glass before your meal arrives and you’ll be full in no time without all that trans fat clogging your arteries. And if that doesn’t work, I might even let you have one of my pancakes.”
“Since when are you so health conscious? God, you’d freak out if you saw the way we eat on the road. Half my meals have come from places with wheels and a walk-up window.”
She cringes. “I wondered about that. Not that you look bad or anything, just, um, I don’t know . . . tired, maybe.”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “I look tired? Did I look tired onstage?”
She shakes her head. “No. You looked great onstage. I mean, you know, like you’re supposed to look.” She blushes again and all sorts of images run through my mind. I want to tell her she looks great. And that she’d look even more great naked in my bed. But that would not be appropriate. At all.
“Well, thank you. I think.”
Robyn lets out a
I shouldn’t be surprised—she’s pretty much always had this heart-stopping effect on me. But I thought the high from tonight’s show might curtail my reaction to her a bit.
It didn’t.
“Hey,” I say, standing to greet her. “You made it.”
“You know me,” she says with a shrug. “Can’t resist pancakes.”
I fake a wounded look. “And here I was telling myself you might’ve come for the company.”
I add “come” to my mental list of words not to say around Robyn, for my dick’s sake. He has some cherished memories of her that are fairly easy to evoke.
Robyn blushes as if she might be thinking something along the same lines.
“It’s good to see you, Dallas.” She says it like she means it and I grin like a lovesick jackass when she barely lets me give her a one-armed hug before we slide into the booth. “And I caught part of your show tonight. The crowd seemed really into ‘Better to Burn.’ I read that it’s been getting some radio play, which is great, right?”
I nod at an approaching waitress and avoid Robyn’s eyes. If I look directly at her, she’ll see the truth burning in them. She always could see right through me.
“Yeah, Dixie wrote that one. It’s doing well.”
Thankfully before Robyn can inquire any further into my songwriting, a waitress comes over to take our order.
“What’ll it be, kids?” Our waitress’s name is Kay and she has pens stuck in her hair, her shirt pocket, and her apron. Maybe if I kept pens handy like that I’d actually get a decent lyric or two written.
“The blueberry oatmeal pancakes and an orange juice, please,” Robyn answers after barely glancing at the menu.
“I’ll have the double bacon cheeseburger with loaded cheese fries and a large Coke.”
“Holy cardiac arrest on a plate.” Robyn reaches for the waitress before she turns away. “He was just kidding. He’ll have the black and blue steak salad with the dressing on the side and a Diet Coke.”
My mouth drops open and I am literally at a loss for words. Kay looks to me for confirmation. I shrug because what else can I do? Throw a tantrum and demand my fucking cheeseburger? That seems like a good way to make Robyn regret meeting me here.
Once Kay has corrected my order on her notepad and walked away, I make a face at Robyn. “Well, that was . . . emasculating. Thank you.”
She bites her lower lip and creases appear in her smooth forehead. “Are you trying to kick the bucket before thirty or what? Your grandfather just had a fatal heart attack, which probably means heart disease runs in your family. So maybe you should, I don’t know, have something other than a cow topped with a pig dipped in grease for dinner.”
“Well, when you put it that way, sure, Robyn. A salad sounds super filling. Can’t wait.”
She grins and a dimple I used to have a habit of kissing every time I saw her pops out in her left cheek. “It will be. Get a glass of water, too. Drink the entire glass before your meal arrives and you’ll be full in no time without all that trans fat clogging your arteries. And if that doesn’t work, I might even let you have one of my pancakes.”
“Since when are you so health conscious? God, you’d freak out if you saw the way we eat on the road. Half my meals have come from places with wheels and a walk-up window.”
She cringes. “I wondered about that. Not that you look bad or anything, just, um, I don’t know . . . tired, maybe.”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “I look tired? Did I look tired onstage?”
She shakes her head. “No. You looked great onstage. I mean, you know, like you’re supposed to look.” She blushes again and all sorts of images run through my mind. I want to tell her she looks great. And that she’d look even more great naked in my bed. But that would not be appropriate. At all.
“Well, thank you. I think.”
Robyn lets out a
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