Defining Dallas: A Reason to Ruin Novella Read online

  I had no clue that the guy who saved me from a terrible blind date was a rock star. Imagine my surprise when I saw him front and center the next night, seducing the crowd the same way he seduced me.

  The last thing I wanted was to come face-to-face with him for the meet and greet, but I worked overtime to be able to afford the tickets, there was no way I was missing a once in a life time opportunity for my son to meet his idol.

  That was when Dallas decided seeing me again was more than a coincidence, and it meant that we were supposed to be together because he molded his way into our life faster than I thought possible. My son began to rely on him. I started to trust him. He showed me that he was perfect… until I discovered that he was too good to be true.

  Defining Dallas—© Anna Brooks

  Copyright © 2021 Anna Brooks

  Published by Anna Brooks

  Cover design by Passion Creations by Mary Ruth

  Editing by Editing4Indies

  Proofreading by Kimberly Holm

  Formatting by Champagne Book Design

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Title Page

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Epilogue

  Preview of Surface

  Notes and stuff.

  Other Books by Anna

  About the Author

  Shelby

  “You’ve gotta be joking,” I mumble to myself as I watch the man I’m supposed to meet for a blind date enter the restaurant as if he’s royalty and everyone should bow at his feet. One thing he’s got going for him is that he’s punctual, but other than that, after only a glance, I realize it’s more than likely the only thing. I quickly turn my back from where I’m seated at the bar before he notices me and slurp up the dredges of my vodka cranberry, wishing I had another waiting for me.

  I didn’t even want to be here tonight, but my friend Bethany begged to set me up on a blind date. I had turned her suggestion down numerous times, but she finally persuaded me with talks of this amazing surgeon from the hospital where she works. I’m not in the market to meet him, or anyone for that matter, because I’m too damn busy for a relationship. Her persistent concern for my well-being made me finally agree… However, right now, I wish I’d have stuck to my gut.

  The picture of Dr. Myles Roberts that Beth showed me was attractive enough. In the photo, he had sandy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and perfectly straight teeth. And he was a doctor, so I knew, or at least I hoped, he wasn’t like the other blind dates I’d been on. Like the guy who “forgot” his wallet at home, or the one whose car was in the shop so I had to pick him up. The last straw in my dating endeavors was a man who showed up smelling so strongly of weed that I’m pretty sure I was stoned by the time I was done with supper. It was actually a saving grace because feeling high was the only thing that got me through that date.

  In real life, Myles looks nothing like his picture. His hair has a terrible dark dye job and is slicked back to cover a bald spot on the top of his head. He’s wearing a pair of khakis and a pink polo shirt tucked into the waistband with no belt. I peek over my shoulder just in time to see him wink at the hostess. Wink at her. When he leans on the stand to give his name for the reservation, he stares at her boobs as though he’s never seen cleavage before…which is a scary thought, seeing as he’s a doctor and all.

  I drop my head to allow my hair to curtain the side of my face and swirl the ice in my empty glass. As the hostess leads him to a table, he follows, and when he walks past me, the whiff I get of his oversaturated cologne just screams pompous.

  I keep my back to my blind date and squeeze my eyes shut as if it’ll magically make him disappear. Beth showed him a picture of me as well, so I can’t get out of here without him recognizing me, especially since he’s just been seated directly behind me.

  Shit.

  “Thanks, sweetheart.” He flirts with the hostess, who is probably not even old enough to drink, as she hands him a menu. “Her name is Shelby when she comes.” Then he chuckles. He laughs because of the word come. Great. Not only is he a pervert but he has the humor of an adolescent boy, too.

  Bethany should have known better; this guy is nothing like my type, and I don’t even have a type. I just know he’s not it.

  I should have chosen a spot more inconspicuous to wait because I know he’s going to see me when I get up to leave. Doubt trickles in, and I wonder if maybe I should stay and be mature about the situation to give him a chance. But then I realize I’m too old for this kind of crap, and I don’t have the time to waste on a man like him, so that thought is extremely short-lived.

  Feeling like I’m trapped, I take a second to plan an escape route in my head that’ll get me out of here without him noticing me, but then I hear a chair scrape behind me. A second later, I can smell musk as a finger taps me on the shoulder, the nail surprisingly sharp even through the material on my shirt. When I turn in my seat, my eyes widen in horror at how close he is, and when he opens his mouth, coffee breath stinks up my sinuses. Makes me miss pothead guy.

  “You’re Shelby, right?”

  “No. I’m not.” I lie easily but not smoothly.

  “You’re not?” He pulls his phone out and looks at a picture of what’s clearly my face, then directs his gaze back to me. He does it a couple more times. “You’re being cute. I love a woman with a sense of humor.” His laughter is even creepy as he holds his hand out to shake mine, flashing a trashy gold watch that I’m sure is meant to impress. I glance at him with disgust but feel so cornered that I briefly put my palm against his clammy one. His fingers wrap around mine at lightning speed.

  I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me go. “You’re even prettier in person.”

  “I’m sorry, I think you’re looking for someone else.”

  He shakes his head and tsks me. “No. It’s you.”

  “Um. No, I…” Frantically, I search over his shoulder, desperate to figure a way out of this when I spot a man who just stopped at the bar to order a drink. Daringly, I point to my left. “I’m with him, so there’s no way you have the right person.” I clear my throat, and my gaze darts to the stranger, silently pleading with him to play along. Now this guy is handsome. He’s tall with dark hair that’s clearly not manufactured and is dressed like a teenager in a pair of ripped jeans and a faded concert tee, but somehow it works on him. What stands out the most is the gray color of his eyes, though—almost purple but smoky blue at the same time. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  He rears his head back, and he zeroes in on my trapped hand and stiff body language. He must quickly deduce what’s going on because he gives me a slight nod. Myles angles his head suspiciously. “You’re with him?” he spits with distaste, and his fingers remain tight on me as I struggle to
rid them from the confines of my own.

  “Yes, I’m with him, so as I already said, you have the wrong person.”

  My fake dude takes pity on me and adjusts his stance, lifting his chin at Myles. “I heard her tell you she was with me already, so why the fuck are you still touching my woman?” Damn. I stop struggling at the heat in his underlying threat as his words warm me and root me in place. He sounded really believable as though I actually belonged to him. My arm loses the elasticity, and I’m pretty sure my panties are wet after hearing his deep growly voice. I wish a man like him really did cherish me like that. I’ve never had anybody be so… possessive over me. I shouldn’t like it, but I do.

  Myles quickly extracts his hand and then holds both of them up in surrender. Thank God, he’s a sissy and gives up. The last thing I want is for this savior of mine to get into a fight. Although I’m pretty sure he could take Myles with one arm tied behind his back. “I apologize. Enjoy your evening.” Myles takes his seat back at the table directly behind us, and since he’s within earshot, I can’t thank the stranger like I want to. Shit. Now what do I do?

  My defender takes matters into his own hands when he puts an arm around my shoulder and starts leading me away. I quake at his touch and the delicious leathery, woodsy smell of him. “Come on, darlin’. I’ve been waiting for you.” I practically fall off my stool, but I walk with him around the corner to the back of the restaurant with his help.

  When we reach a secluded table, he gallantly motions to the open booth where I scoot in, and he sits across from me. “So I take it you don’t want to have dinner with him?”

  The nervous tension that’s been lingering since I started getting ready for this stupid blind date fades away, and I laugh so hard I have tears in my eyes. When I realize he’s staring at me, I moan in embarrassment and then bang my head on the table. The silverware clatters louder than I anticipate, and I silently curse myself. After taking a deep breath, I sit up and find him with a smirk on his handsome face. “No. I definitely don’t want to have dinner with him. So, thank you for saving me, I owe you huge.”

  “It’s all good.”

  “I didn’t even want to get set up with him in the first place, but Bethany, who used to be my best friend until tonight, decided I needed to because it’s been so long since I’d been on a date and stupid me agreed and—” I stop and roll my lips together. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear this shit.” Then I wince. “Sorry.”

  He smirks. “For what? That you said shit?”

  “It’s rude.”

  “You’re fine.”

  Sighing, I run my fingers through my reddish-brown hair. “Seriously, thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but I really appreciate that you did.” I dig through my purse and pull out a ten-dollar bill. “Let me at least buy you a drink.”

  When I slide my hand across the table, he quickly covers it with his. “Women don’t buy me drinks.”

  “But I—”

  “Darlin’, I don’t want your money.”

  At the endearment coming out of his mouth again, my eyes fly to his. “Okay,” I whisper. But instead of pulling away, I relax the muscles in my arm when he starts to rub circles across the top of my knuckles with his thumb. His skin against mine is… erotic, almost. Like foreplay.

  When the innocent gesture radiates down to deep in my belly, I yank my hand away, shocked the simple gesture has such an effect on me. I try to cover up my erratic behavior with putting the money back in my purse. “I’m just, uh, going to go. I’ll sneak out the back or something.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “What?”

  “Stay. Have dinner with me.”

  I shake my head. “I couldn’t. I’m sure you have plans with someone. I don’t want—”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to. And if you keep arguing, I’ll just insist it’s your way of repaying me for getting you away from that creep. Because you do owe me, right? You said so yourself.”

  I am hungry, and it’d be nice to have a meal with a guy who isn’t hard to look at. Since I’m already here… “Okay, I’ll stay for supper.”

  “Good.” He flicks his wrist, and a waiter comes over right away with two menus.

  “Can I get you something to drink, miss?”

  “Water is fine. Thank you.”

  The handsome stranger, whose name I still don’t know, shakes his head. “Hold on, Romero. What do you want to drink, darlin’? It’s on me, so please, get whatever you’d like.”

  I really want a frosty mug and a Miller Lite, but this is a classy restaurant, and I need to drive home. I’ve already had a cocktail, so I decide on wine because I’ll just sip it through my meal. “I’ll have a glass of white wine. Thank you.”

  “My usual.”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

  “You ever been here before?”

  I almost tell him the last time I was at a restaurant this nice was for my high school prom, and even though I’m not on a date with him, that just sounds pathetic, so I simply say, “No.”

  “Well, everything is good, but their prime rib is to die for.”

  As delicious as it sounds, there is no way I can afford that. “I’m a vegetarian, so I’ll just get the Caesar salad.”

  “Suit yourself.” He closes his menu. “But I’m telling you now. When mine gets here, you’re going to be tempted, and I won’t share.”

  “Well… what’s your name?”

  He grins. “My real name is Dallas. What about you?”

  “I don’t have a fake name… so it’s just Shelby.”

  “Like the car or from the movie?”

  “Car if you ask my dad; the movie if you ask my mom. How does a guy like you know about Steel Magnolias?”

  “A guy like me?”

  I motion to him. “Yeah. A guy like you. The bad-boy, rocker, manly-man type.” As the words are coming out of my mouth, I realize they could be perceived as insulting.

  Luckily, he doesn’t seem to take them that way. “A guy like me knows about it because it’s my mom’s favorite movie. So, Shelby, you were saying…”

  I’m so distracted by him that I almost forgot. “I was saying… Well, Dallas, I don’t share my food either, so we have that in common.”

  He thanks the waiter when our drinks are placed down. “Are you two ready to order, or do you still need a minute?”

  “We’re ready. The lady will have a Caesar salad, and I’m going to have the prime rib special. Thanks, Romero.”

  I really like that he’s so decisive. After everything I have to deal with on my own, it’s nice to have someone with confidence take charge.

  “Sounds good. I’ll get your order in.”

  As soon as he turns to walk away, my phone rings, and I jump at the sound. “Sorry.” I dig through my purse and see it’s Beth. I was only going to answer if it was my son, but I figure I need to talk to her about tonight since it’s her fault I’m here in the first place. “I need to get this real quick. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all good, babe. Take your time.”

  I answer the call and am met with her yelling at me for standing up Dr. Roberts. I don’t let her finish lecturing me because I cut her off. “First, I didn’t stand him up. I lied about who I was so I wouldn’t be forced to spend my time with him. You seriously can’t be surprised, Beth, he’s the exact opposite of my type. He was wearing a pink polo shirt. Pink. I don’t give a shit what they say. Real men don’t wear pink.”

  She groans. “He’s a nice guy, Shel. You should have been able to overlook a stupid shirt to have a nice meal with him.”

  “I’m sorry, and I hope he’s not a dick to you at work because of me, but there is no way that was happening.” I pull the phone away from my ear and mouth, “I’m sorry,” to Dallas as she goes off on a tangent.

  “You’re fine,” Dallas insists before taking a swallow of beer.

  With a sigh, I put the phone back to my ear and cut her off again. “No, as I w
as trying to say before, it wasn’t just the clothes. I’m not that shallow. I watched him check out the hostess’s boobs. And then he called her sweetheart. It was gross. Oh, and when he told her my name, for when I came, he laughed. He actually laughed like a freaking teenage boy because he said the word come.” I take a drink of my wine. “Like I need him for that. I can do just fine without him. He probably wouldn’t even be able to find my cl—” I suddenly remember I have an audience. Dropping my head to the table again, I bang it… lightly this time. I am such a moron. “I’ll call you later,” I mumble into the receiver and then take a deep breath before lifting my head.

  If I could crawl away without seeming like a crazy person, I would be out of here in a heartbeat. “I’m so, so sorry. God, you probably think I’m a nutjob.”

  “Quite the opposite, actually.”

  “Well, maybe you’re a nutjob then.” I press my lips together and look at the ceiling before finally mustering up the courage to face him again. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

  “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, but I do want to know more about you. Tell me about yourself, Shelby. You from around here?”

  “Born and raised.”

  He licks his lip after taking a drink. “I figured that.”

  “What about you?”

  “Born, but not raised. My mom moved up to Wisconsin when I was young, but I’ve still got family down here. She moved back several years ago, so I go back and forth a lot but will be staying more permanently from now on.”

  “Were you born in Dallas?”

  He chuckles. “I wasn’t, actually. My mom’s kind of… crazy.”

  “Aren’t they all?” We chat for several minutes about nothing in particular, and when the server delivers our food, my mouth waters at the plate set in front of him. “Your meat looks really good.”

  Dallas crosses his arms and smirks. “I’m just gonna wait for a second for you to get embarrassed again.”

  My eyebrows knit together, and when I realize what I just said, my jaw unhinges.