“For someone who doesn’t have a girl, you sure are worried about that phone,” Wade says from beside me. I hadn’t noticed he was there.
“You really this interested in getting to know me? Or is there something specific you want to ask?”
Please do not ask me about Robyn Breeland.
He narrows his eyes, but before he can ask anything else, a body crashes into mine, nearly spilling my beer.
Thin arms wrap around me and a mouth fastens to the side of my face. What the fuck?
I steady myself, pulling back far enough to see Chandra attaching herself to me like an octopus.
“Dallas! Oh my God! You made it!” she squeals in my ear. “We have to get another picture together. My friend Allie is gonna take it. Smile!”
I force a quick grin just in time for the flash.
“Thanks! Come sit with us.” Her fingers clasp my free hand and she tugs.
“Actually I’m going to hang out with these guys,” I say, pulling free and nodding toward where Wade is.
“Nah. We’re good. Go ahead, Walker. We’ll save you a seat.” Wade winks like he’s doing me a favor. There’s amusement playing on his face.
“Will you sign some stuff for us? Pretty please?” Chandra pouts surgically enhanced plump lips at me. A few other parts of her appear to be surgically enhanced as well.
“Sure,” I say, relenting, and let her lead me to the table where her friends are.
It’s probably for the best that Robyn didn’t answer my texts. It’s not like I can ask her out on Friday night, take her to a movie, and all that for as long as we both shall live. I tell myself to be thankful for the memory of something real while I’m facing a future full of something fake.
As much as I hate to admit it, there is something flattering about the fact that Chandra wants my autograph and didn’t seem the least bit interested in Wade.
I’m just asshole enough to care.
16 | Robyn
WHEN KATIE TEXTS ME THAT SHE’S UPLOADED THE MEET-AND-GREET photos from the show in Kansas City, I can’t resist opening them on my flight back home.
My flight back to Dallas.
You know what’s a dumb idea? Living in a city with the same name as your ex-boyfriend.
The first set of photos is Wade and a long string of posed pictures with his adoring female fans. I forward the best ones to Harvey on the social media team with a note to post them to the Midnight Bay website, as well as the Facebook and Twitter accounts.
The next group shows Dallas and there are nearly as many fan photos. A candid shot Drew took of his line shows that it’s nearly as long as Jase’s. I’m happy for Dallas and I’m relieved to see he’s not the tour underdog. But a few of the women in some of the photos have my insides twisting into knots.
Some of them are drop-dead gorgeous and have their bodies plastered onto Dallas like cling wrap. One in particular wears an expression that makes me cringe.
He’s not yours, Robyn.
Right. He’s not.
As much as it pains me to do so, I include the smoking hot brunette picture in the ones of Dallas that I send to Harvey. It’s a really good picture and it shows how very desirable he is. I can do this. I can be an adult about working with my ex.
But I might print myself a copy of that photo and throw darts at it in my office just for fun.
“Eleven percent. How crazy is that?”
“What? What’s eleven percent?” I lift my head off my desk when Katie barges in. Thank goodness it was her and not one of the Martins that caught me napping.
“Were you asleep?”
“No.” My answer is negated by the giant yawn that follows.
“You all right?” Katie’s round blue eyes are filled with concern.
“I’m fine. Just tired. Between Denver and L.A. and my layover getting delayed, I got in really late last night. I’m just a little drained.”
“I wondered why I didn’t hear you come in. I might have some ginseng tea in the break room. Oh, and I have ginkgo drops in my purse.”
“Thanks. I promise I’m good. Just need some good old-fashioned caffeine and more rest.”