“Do you know what it’s like to be caught in an undertow?” Dalton asks as we drive away from Rochelle’s house.
“Sure. It’s like vertigo.”
“Yeah, you don’t know which way is up and you’re fighting to stay alive. It feels pointless to fight so hard and get nowhere—”
“But then you do,” I add. “You find your way out.” This conversation should worry me, but he’s searching for a truth to relate to, so I let him lead.
“Yeah, just like that.” He goes quiet, staring out the window at the old sixties style bungalows. As much as I want to throw a million questions at him, I don’t and wait for him to speak. When he does, there’s a dullness in his tone I’ve gotten used to hearing over the last week. He looks at me and says, “I’d forgotten what normal was like. This is normal—these houses, this neighborhood, and how we spend our time is normal.”
“I like normal.”
“I like normal too, but you deserve extraordinary. Normal is all any other guy has ever given you and those guys aren’t around anymore.”
I reach over and rub his thigh. “I should clarify that I like doing normal with you.” We’ve only dated a few months and most of my past relationships were over by this point.
“You weren’t someone I would have normally approached… that night.”
I put both hands on the wheel again. “Geez, thanks.”
He chuckles. “That’s not what I mean. You’re hot. You know it,” he says, a little smile revealed. “But you were so uptight and business like, pissy, and strong, independent. Believe it or not, that’s not the typical type of woman I date.”
I want to say something really sarcastic, but I refrain because though there’s a lightness to his voice, there’s also a seriousness blanketing his words.
He angles his body toward me while tugging on his seatbelt, and continues. “You see my flaws and my good side. You see who I am, not just what others want me to be.”
“Your fame doesn’t define you, Dalton.”
“To you. To you, I’m more than Johnny Outlaw. The world doesn’t want to see Jack Dalton. They want whatever they can take and some days,” he says, then sighs. “Some days I can give them everything they want, what they crave. Others… since Cory died, I’m left wondering if I’ll ever be able to be that person again. Do I even want to or am I done? Life is short. Too fucking short. Is this how I want to spend the rest of it?”
“You’ve had a lot to deal with. You’ve been touring for months and then, well, Cory passing away. I don’t think you have to figure out your entire life’s plan this week. You have time to think about what you want. Don’t make rash decisions based on temporary emotions.”
His fingers weave into my hair, a slight tug that makes me turn his way. There’s a hint of that arrogant man I know well tingeing the green of his irises when he says, “I’ve been a part of something great, built an empire. But it’s a career I fell into. I’ve admitted that many times before, but I’m ready to take ownership of it, take control back.” His grip loosens. “That means figuring out plan C. You’re right. It doesn’t have to be today.”
I keep my eyes forward, but then my gaze is drawn to him when he adds, “But you still deserve extraordinary.”
There’s something about the way he kisses. It makes me wonder if he kissed every other woman with as much passion as he shows me. He makes me feel like the only one, but that can’t be right. He’s Johnny Outlaw and with that name comes groupies and backstage fucks, and everything else that fame brings.
I try to drown out the thoughts that keep me out of the moment by listening to the loud music that fills the room. But it doesn’t do the trick.
He stops and looks at me, the moon providing the only light in the room. It’s enough to see his concern. “You okay?” he asks.
Seeing his desire makes me feel bad that I can’t give him the same back right now.
“You’re thinking too much,” he adds. “Just feel. Only feel.”
“I can’t shut my mind off.” I lean back, caught up in his reality, in Rochelle’s and my mind lost to the sadness.
Expecting an exaggerated sigh or a look of irritation, I turn away. But I don’t get any of that. His hand rubs my back and he says, “We don’t have to do anything… sexual. We can just hang out.”
When I turn to look at him, to my relief, all I see is sincerity. And there’s something about a guy being sincere that is incredibly sexy. Call me weak, but I fall for it every time.