Loving Dallas - Caisey Quinn Page 0,1

Her blazer and lack of cleavage shout “looking for something long term.” Not my style. Probably my drinking buddy’s type, though.

Taking another drink, I glance over at Tate, then subtly tilt my head to the girl to see if he’s interested.

He regards her for a full minute before he shakes his head and shrugs. “I’m tired, man. I’m going to turn in early. You’re not?”

“Never too tired for that,” I say, shifting my eyes toward one of the brunette’s friends—a blonde who has that good-time girl look about her.

“You will be,” he mutters under his breath before tipping his bottle back.

Before I can respond my phone buzzes in my pocket. I motion to the bartender for another beer while retrieving my phone.

Mandy Lantram, the screen informs me.

“It’s my manager,” I tell Tate before plugging my open ear and accepting the call.

“They chose you, Dallas,” she says in place of a greeting. It’s the call I’ve been waiting for. The one I feared wouldn’t come. “You’re the new opener on Jase Wade’s Kickin’ Up Crazy tour. Barry has the paperwork ready to sign, and the tour kicks off in a few weeks. I know you mentioned maybe heading home, but I think your downtime would be better spent recording in the studio.”

She goes on to detail a schedule that includes every moment I’m permitted to sleep and breathe. But this is everything I ever wanted, so I’m not complaining.

When I finally end the call, Afton claps me on the back and offers to buy the next round to celebrate. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is actually happening. It’s everything I ever wanted . . . well, mostly. I wanted my band to make it big, but some dreams don’t come made to order.

The bartender sets our new drinks in front of us and I excuse myself to make a phone call. I’m pulling her name up as I make my way out of the boisterous crowd filling the bar.

I hold the door open on my way and a group of attractive women comes in thanking me for being a gentleman.

Stepping outside, I place the phone to my ear and hear it still ringing. I feel the grin spread across my face when she finally picks up.

“Hey. Where are you?”

“Well hello to you, too.” She laughs lightly. “I’m on the Blue Ridge Parkway. You wouldn’t believe how beautiful it is. I think fall is my new favorite season.”

My sister is on some epic road trip that gives me heartburn and panic attacks on a regular basis. But she seems to be enjoying herself, so I try to tamp down my brotherly instincts. She’s twenty years old now so I can’t exactly order her to go home where she’s safe like I could when we were kids.

“No truck stops after dark, okay? And be sure you’re—”

“Locking the doors, keeping the gas tank filled, checking the air in the tires, and carrying my Mace with me at all times.” She finishes my much-repeated spiel for me. “I know, big brother. I got this. I’ve only got a few more stops, then I’ll head home and you can rest easy.”

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” I say, meaning it. “I just worry about you is all.”

“I know, Dad,” she teases. “And I appreciate your concern.”

It’s not the first time she’s called me that and in some ways, I suppose I do treat her more like a daughter than a sister. Our actual dad was from a low-income section of Amarillo, Texas. He grew up working from the time he could ride a bike. Paper route. Lawn boy. Window, car, whatever washer. Dog walker. You name it, he did it. He ran errands for the elderly, started painting houses by the time he was sixteen, and pretty much did anything and everything he could to earn a buck. Over the years he saved his pennies and by the time he was eighteen, he was able to afford to send himself to college. He’d met my mom there. She was a cello player studying music education. My grandparents helped as much as they could, of course, but for the most part, my dad was a self-made man. He was proud of that, it was part of who he was, and his work ethic was ingrained in my DNA. As were his protective tendencies. Even though he’s been dead ten years now, the beliefs he instilled in me live on.

“Take