“Dallas?” she asks softly.
I lift my head, square my shoulders, and tell myself to man up. If she’s breaking things off, I have to face it like a man.
“Yes?”
She reaches up and cups my face, her thumb stroking back and forth across my cheek. She’s totally breaking things off.
“What’s going on with you?” she finally asks. “The cow the other day? The photo booth? What are you doing, Dally?”
My head drops again, but she slides her hand under my chin and pulls me back up to meet her gaze.
“Just tell me.”
I try to look away, but she just shifts so that she’s in my direct line of sight. Exasperated, I decide the only way forward is to be honest. I know, I’m stunned too, but if there’s one woman who can make me do things I normally don’t, it’s Shelby. The words explode out of my mouth. Overdue and packed with frustration.
“I’m trying to do these grand gestures you say you love so much! I’ve read two romance books, and they gave me ideas, but it just doesn’t seem to work out for me. I’m pulling out all the stops, and they just end in failure!”
Shelby’s eyes soften, but she doesn’t let up on my chin. “But why? Why do all this?”
I gape at her. “Because I love you, Shelby! I’minlove with you! You want a man to do all these romantic gestures, and I’m trying my best, but maybe I’ve been correct all this time. I’m just not good enough for you. I mean, we’ve both known that, but I was still hoping I could be the man you said you’ve always wanted.” I pull my chin out of her grasp, too upset to be still. My hand finds the back of my neck, and my boots kick up dust as I pace back and forth.
“I thought if I could be the man you wanted, you’d fall in love with me too. But all I’ve done is mess things up and prove I willneverbe the man you want.”
“Dallas,” Shelby says, reaching for me.
I hold up my hand. “No. It’s okay. I don’t say all that to guilt you into feeling something for me that you don’t. I’m just telling you where my head’s at, okay?”
“Dude! Did you burn down the photo booth?” Frankie’s screech interrupts my tense confession, which is just as well. I’m done making a fool out of myself tonight.
“Did you finally cuss out Shane? My hero!” My sister and her wife rush over, talking over each other about the incident that everyone’s gossiping about.
Shelby, though, doesn’t say a word.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
WELL, SLAP MY ASS AND CALL ME SALLY!
Shelby
“Tell me I heard wrong and Dallas didn’t just burn down half the tents.” A breathless Josie Mae sidles up next to me in the main thoroughfare.
“You heard wrong,” I reply distractedly, my head on a swivel as I search the crowd for any sign of Dallas. One minute we were crowded in chaos, and the next he was gone.
“Thank god.” Jo sighs in relief, pulling her thick hair up with both hands and winding it into a knot.
“He only burned one down.” Where is he?
“Oh, good lord!” Her hair slips from her hands and falls back to her shoulders. “Is everybody okay?”
“I think so. Well, physically at least.” A couple of sticky-faced kids almost plow into us as we maneuver our way through the crowd.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that right after he knocked a half dozen candles onto a hay bale and rug in the photo booth, Dallas Gamble told me he’s in love with me.”
Jo’s gasp is so sharp I worry she might have sucked down a few insects.
