LOVING DALLAS PLAYLIST
“Crazy Town,” Jason Aldean
“Ho Hey,” Lumineers
“Smoke,” A Thousand Horses
“This Town,” Clare Bowen and Charles Esten
“Even if It Breaks Your Heart,” Eli Young Band
“I See You,” Luke Bryan
“Texas Was You,” Jason Aldean
“Distance,” Christina Perri featuring Jason Mraz
“Dancing Away with My Heart,” Lady Antebellum
“Hope You Get Lonely,” Cole Swindell
“Wheels Rollin’,” Jason Aldean
“Easy,” Rascal Flatts featuring Natasha Bedingfield
“Make You Miss Me,” Sam Hunt
“Come Over,” Kenny Chesney
“Love You Like That” Canaan Smith
“It Goes Like This,” Thomas Rhett
“I Walk the Line,” Johnny Cash
“Save Your Breath” Josh Dorr
“Let Her Go,” Passenger
“Mine Would Be You,” Blake Shelton
“More than Miles,” Brantley Gilbert
“Run Away with You,” Michael Ray
“Crash My Party,” Luke Bryan
“I Won’t Give Up,” Jana Kramer
“Simple Man,” Lynyrd Skynyrd
“Say You Do” Dierks Bentley
“Play It Again,” Luke Bryan
Caisey Quinn Top 5 Songs on iPod While Writing Loving Dallas
1. Smoke – A Thousand Horses
2. Wheels Rollin – Jason Aldean
3. Hope You Get Lonely – Cole Swindell
4. Love You Like That – Canaan Smith
5. Walk the Line – Johnny Cash
What Caisey Quinn Loves About Dallas
5. That he knows when to be a gentleman…and when not to be.
4. His tight jeans and cocky, country book swagger.
3. His sweet smile.
2. His singing voice.
“Tell me what you’ve sacrificed. I want to know,” Dallas says evenly, completely unfazed by my obvious psychotic break. “Because I know a thing or two about sacrifice myself. But I can tell you this much, I would never sacrifice my dignity and I sure as hell didn’t get where I am on my back or by putting anyone else on theirs.”
What the hell?
“Mandy. She’s my manager. Our relationship is strictly professional, and it will stay that way, regardless of what her intentions may or may not be.”
“Okay.” I don’t want to feel relieved. I shouldn’t care. But my tightly wound nerves loosen a fraction.
“Your turn,” he informs me, folding his muscular arms over his broad chest.
“My turn for what?”
“To tell me if you’re fucking Wade! If that’s how you got on this tour, I want you to end it. He’s a grade A piece of shit who doesn’t give a damn who he—”
Dallas doesn’t get to finish his sentence.
Because I slap him. Hard. So hard my hand is still stinging.
Our faces must be matching masks of shock and I see the replay in slow motion. I’ve never struck another human being in my entire life. And I just slapped the only man I’ve ever loved with everything I was worth.
“If you ever, ever, even think to insinuate that I got where I am on my back, I swear to God, Dallas Lark, I will make that seem like a love tap.”
I am so immensely infuriated that everything in my line of sight is tinged in red. But more than that, I’m hurt. Hurt that someone I once cared so much for, and still care about more than I’d like to admit, would think that of me. Stitched-up lacerations on my heart that were on their way to being pretty pink scars are opening wide and angry. He didn’t invite me here for pancakes to catch up or spend time with me or figure out how to work together or even attempt to make amends. Nope. He’s just jealous and arrogant and a raging asshole.
“I didn’t mean to insinuate that—”
“Get the hell away from me.” I whirl around and step right into a fresh puddle. Great. Wonderful.
“No,” Dallas says, pulling me toward him and catching me off guard. “I need you to hear me out.”
“What’s to hear? You’re an arrogant ass and I hate you.”
He gives me an infuriating smirk. “No you don’t. If that were true, you wouldn’t be this pissed.”
I struggle to find a reasonable argument to this so I say, “Fuck you, Dallas.”
“Yes, please. Come back to the hotel with me. The car service is already here.” I yank out of his grasp, causing a painful friction between our skin.
He pulls me to his chest and my anger is fading, too diluted by his scent and his intensity.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so damn sorry,” is all he says before kissing me brutally on the mouth. Mine pops open in shock when he pulls back to breathe. His gaze presses into mine as my mind tumbles over itself trying to process the abrupt turn of events. His thumb grazes my cheek gently. “I never meant to hurt you,” he says before devouring me again.
And Lord help me, I don’t even know which thing he’s apologizing for—the past or the present—because I’m melting. The rain, his fiery hot mouth, his hands scorching a trail over my body. I’m drowning in Dallas and I can’t stop.
Worse, I don’t even want to.