He shakes his head. “All I know about your morning drink of choice is coffee is a no-go, so I had to get creative and bring options.”
“By creative, you mean …”
“Asking the woman behind the counter at the doughnut shop.”
I lean against the wall. “And what did she suggest?”
“Hot chocolate, decaf green tea, and passion fruit something.” He counts off the list with his fingers. “I have no damn clue what the last option was, but she said health nuts have been going crazy over it. Thought I might as well give it a go.”
His answer is so Dallas.
“Green tea for one then, please.”
He frowns. “Well … fuck.”
“What?”
“I didn’t take you as a green-tea lover, so I chugged it down on the way here.”
“A green-tea lover? I don’t see you as one either, considering you once told me not liking coffee was an abomination.”
“It truly is.” I keep staring at him until his lips crack into a smile. “I’m only fucking with you. Green tea is in the middle cup.” He snags the doughnuts. “We’ll eat on the way. Let’s hit the road.”
“I like the shirt today,” Dallas says.
We’ve been on the road for about an hour and have covered the weather, the latest news, our ideas for where Stella and Hudson should get married, and what the best movie that came out this year was.
Everything but baby talk.
Which I’m totally okay with.
I pull at the bottom of my You Had Me at Tacos tee. Graphic tees are my thing. “I thought I’d give you a hint of what we’re having for lunch.”
“Can we delay that until dinner? There aren’t that many stops on the way, and I doubt any of them serve quality tacos.”
I nod. “I can settle for dinner.”
It’s not like I have anywhere to be. It’s either hang with him or sit, bored, in my apartment. You can only watch so much Netflix before you’re ready to pull your hair out.
“I’ll find you the best damn tacos you’ve ever had for tagging along today.” He grins while peeking over at me. “I woke up this morning, expecting a text from you, bailing.”
I cast a curious glance from my seat. “Disappointed I didn’t?”
“Hell no. I told you I’d enjoy the company.”
I study his driving position. He’s leaned back in the seat, right arm stretched out and steering. It comes across so casual, so laid-back, and I never thought I’d be so turned on by the way a man drove.
“What made you change your mind?”
His question smacks me out of my eye-fucking-him moment. “A change of scenery sounded nice.”
He chuckles, faking offense. “Not the company?”
I bite the side of my lip. “I haven’t decided on that yet.”
“I admire your honesty and pledge to give you the time of your life, so you can make that decision at the end of this trip. The drive is beautiful. We won’t hit any of that bullshit LA traffic you’re used to.”
“How long are we talking?”
Now that I think about it, I should’ve asked more questions before jumping into his truck. It seems I have a habit of jumping into things with this man without considering what could happen first.
“Eight-hour round trip. We’ll be at the auction for an hour or two. My eyes are only on one piece of equipment, which will be at the front of the line. I bid and fill out the paperwork, and then we’ll be back on the road.”
“Sounds like a whole process. How often do you do this, and why do you do it?”
“Once or twice a month, depending on what they have for sale. Hudson and I buy machinery that needs to be updated. We fix it up, modernize it—that kind of stuff. Then, we sell it to farmers and construction companies around the area.”
Interesting. I knew he and Hudson did some type of machinery work but never knew what exactly it was.
Stella’s explanation consisted of, “They fix stuff and sell machines,” which wasn’t as thorough as his answer.
“How did you get into it?” I want to draw out every detail of his life that I can.
“My grandfather started the business decades ago. My dad ran it after he passed and while I was in LA and Hudson was in the military. He’s ready to retire, so he asked us to take over. Since we’re home for good now, we figured it was the perfect time. We’ve already expanded the business and doubled our clientele.”
“So, you bid on the machines you want and then take them to the shop if you win?”
“Most of the time, I bring a trailer and tow the machine with my truck, but today, I’ll have a contractor pick it up and deliver it to the shop.”
I squint my eyes at him. “Why not tow it today?”
“It’s not only uncomfortable, but also a longer trip when towing a piece of heavy machinery. I want you to be comfortable.”
Dallas might have had parts of his heart shattered, but fragments are still shoved in there, beating. He’s kind even though he’s heartbroken. He’s miserable, but he manages to consider other people.
“I’ve been on eighteen-hour flights and gone straight to work without sleeping for another twenty-four,” I tell him. “It’s nothing compared to traveling with Stella.”
“You get paid for that. You’re not getting paid for this, and quite frankly, even if you were, I’d still want to make it comfortable for you.” He shakes his head and whistles. “I sure don’t miss traveling with Stella.”
I nod in agreement. “At first, it was a blast, but it’s not always glitz and glam, working for Hollywood’s finest.”
His fingers close around the steering wheel, and he stares at the road. “Seemed like a good idea then, but I have my regrets.”
“Regrets about working for her or not moving back when Lucy did?”
“Both, to be honest.” The ease of his laid-back mood evaporates. We’ve moved from the weather to an intimate conversation. “Moving to LA was Lucy’s idea. I was fine with staying in Iowa, but she wanted a change.”
I’ve been curious about Dallas’s story since he started working for Stella. She filled me in on small details, and I picked up information here and there, but we never ventured into personal conversations, never let our real life seep through the cracks of our professional one.
“You moved for her?” I ask.
“I loved her.” So much was said in those three words.
“Why did you stay when she moved back?”
Dallas had been working for Stella for three years when Lucy moved back home. Stella was a stressed mess, worried about finding a new bodyguard as good as him, but he decided to stay, relieving us both.
Sadness. Regret. Tension. All of those emotions pass over his face. “I offered, sometimes even begged when the loneliness of missing my family barreled through, but Lucy insisted I stay. The money was too good to pass up. Our plan was to save enough money, so I could move home after a few years. We’d be able to live more comfortably.” More waves of sadness smack into him, and he pauses. “Fuck it.”
I stay quiet, not sure if he’s going to shut down or break down.