One Night in Dallas, page 1
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter ONE
Chapter TWO
Chapter THREE
Chapter FOUR
Chapter FIVE
Chapter SIX
Chapter SEVEN
Chapter EIGHT
Chapter NINE
Chapter TEN
Chapter ELEVEN
Chapter TWELVE
Chapter THIRTEEN
Chapter FOURTEEN
Chapter FIFTEEN
Chapter SIXTEEN
Epilogue
Read More
About the Author
By Bru Baker
More from Bru Baker
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Copyright
One Night in Dallas
By Bru Baker
Over a decade ago, Avery Laniston fell in love with his brother Bran’s best friend but walked out on him and married his career instead. He’s regretted it ever since. After a decade abroad, he returns for Bran’s wedding, hoping to make amends—only to get stranded in an airport with the man he left behind.
When Paul Gladwell finds himself stuck in Dallas with Avery on the way to Bran’s wedding, he decides a one-night stand might be the ticket to closure. Instead it rekindles a spark that threatens to burn him a second time. The romantic atmosphere at the wedding venue doesn’t help, nor does scheming from their friends and family. But the worst culprit is Paul’s heart, which refuses to listen to his head’s warning that Avery hasn’t changed.
Avery knows he hurt Paul before, and he’s determined to make it right. But he doesn’t know where his next job might take him, and Paul is hesitant to trust him again. Can Avery prove he’ll be the partner Paul deserves—that he can balance his career and his personal life? Or will he add one night in Dallas to his years of regrets?
It’s been a long two years, and this book is dedicated to everyone who helped me come out the other end. Much love to you all.
Chapter ONE
“FOLKS, THIS is the captain. We thank you for your patience as our crew sorts out the mechanical issue we’ve got going on. I’ve just been informed a part has to be flown in from another airport. The flight attendants are going to begin the process to get you all deplaned, and the gate agent will have more information about your new flight time as soon as we get an update from the crew.”
Paul let his head thunk against the window, then reared back when he thought about what he’d done. He always made a point of touching as little as possible on a plane. He wasn’t a clean freak or a germaphobe by any means, but he’d read too many things on the internet about how dirty planes were on the inside. A flight attendant tell-all was one clickbait headline he could never resist.
Passengers all around him were grumbling about the inconvenience. Some were outright yelling—he figured those people had probably been traveling since before dawn like him. How hard could it be to put people in metal tubes and shuttle them from Chicago to Tahoe? He was spoiled since flying out of Chicago often meant he could snag a nonstop flight. No such luck this time. There had been zero options for a nonstop.
A combination of storms over the Midwest and mechanical failures had turned his six-and-a-half-hour travel time into an all-day odyssey that was now stranding him in Dallas for the time being.
Paul stretched but made no move to stand up. He was in the last row of the plane. Not his favorite, but he’d been lucky to score the seat after storms had forced his Phoenix-bound flight to land in Kansas City. He’d been able to rebook himself on a flight from Kansas City to Dallas, which had been delayed twice because of the weather and once because they couldn’t get the plane door to shut.
Normally he’d be pickier about seats even on a rebooked flight, but he had to do everything he could to get into Tahoe tonight. So here he was, chilling next to the flight-attendant galley and the chemical stink of the bathroom, waiting for the crowd of passengers elbowing their way down the aisle to ease so he could exit.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he stood up to dig it out, frowning when he saw Bran’s name lit up on the screen.
“Hey, man. They’re making us get off the plane. Mechanical problems,” he said instead of bothering with a greeting.
“I saw. I have an alert set up on my phone for your flight number. It’s delayed an hour.”
That was more information than the captain had given them.
“Don’t wait for me for dinner. God only knows what time I’ll make it to Reno.”
Bran laughed. “We’re golden as long as you’re here in your tux by four tomorrow. Ellie will slaughter you if you mess up her visual aesthetic by leaving us down a best man.”
Paul knew that was very likely a direct quote. Ellie was a pretty calm person, but she was taking this wedding very seriously. A destination wedding across the country was enough to turn even the chillest person into a bridezilla. He watched the passengers a few seats ahead of him ease into the aisle. He stood up without thinking, wincing as he smacked into the bulkhead. It knocked his glasses askew, and he ignored the snicker from his seatmate as he righted them.
“With the luck I’ve had today, maybe I should rent a car and drive in. At least then I’d definitely be there by the wedding.”
“Dude. You’re in Texas. That’s not close.”
Wasn’t it? Paul hated road trips and always preferred to fly. It seemed like Tahoe should be drivable from here.
He sandwiched the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he made his way out into the emptying aisle. He hadn’t brought a carry-on other than his book bag, and he was pretty sure he was going to regret it. At least their tuxes were at a shop in Tahoe City. He wouldn’t survive Ellie’s wrath if he walked down the aisle in jeans and a dirty T-shirt.
“Everyone else get in okay?”
He’d been in charge of the utter nightmare that was coordinating the entire bridal party’s reservations. Paul wouldn’t be willing to go through that much work for his own wedding—he endured endless chains of emails and phone calls with the resort on Bran’s behalf because Bran was the closest thing to family he had. He loved him like a brother.
Paul was scheduled to be the last of the bridal party to arrive. Everyone else had come in the day before, but Paul was finishing up a patch release for an important client, so he’d had to change his flight and arrive the afternoon before the wedding. It should have given him plenty of time since the limo wasn’t arriving at the resort to pick them up for Bran’s bachelor party until nine, but it was seven now, and there was no way he was going to make it.
“Avery missed his flight out of Heathrow. He caught a later one, but I think it added a longer layover somewhere. He said he’d make it before the limo, though.”
Paul rolled his eyes as he stepped off the jetway, earning himself a dirty look from a woman who must have thought he’d been aiming the annoyed gesture at her.
“Of course Avery missed his flight,” he muttered. There wasn’t a spare seat at the gate, another downside to being the last one to get off the plane. Paul shouldered his way through the crowd and walked to the bank of monitors two gates down. “You were right. Delayed an hour. But at this point I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Hey, now. Lay off Avery. He has a lot on his plate with the move.”
According to Bran and the rest of his family, Avery was a “free spirit.” Paul thought that was generous. Avery was a man-child who couldn’t adult his way out of a paper bag. Not that Bran ever resented him for any of it. He thought his brother walked on water.
“Of course he’s got a lot on his plate. He decided to move back to the States with a month’s notice. No sane person does that, Bran.”
Avery’s decision to return to the United States was every bit as spur-of-the-moment as his sudden move out to London had been more than a decade ago. At least this time he’d warned people he was relocating. Avery’s sudden departure back then was a sore spot that still ached when Paul pressed on it, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. Not that Bran held a grudge about it like he did.
“I don’t blame him for wanting to save the airfare,” Bran said. “And he wasn’t teaching any summer classes. It’s not like he left the department in a lurch. Lighten up. He’s coming home. This is a good thing.”
Paul pursed his lips. He didn’t want to rain on Bran’s parade, so it was better not to say anything at all.
Bran sighed. “You two aren’t going to fight at the wedding, are you?”
They weren’t. At least, Paul wasn’t going to. He couldn’t speak for Avery. Paul had never understood what went on in that man’s head. It was a lesson he’d learned the hard way.
“Of course not. We both love you and Ellie, and we’re there to support you. We probably won’t even talk.”
Not that Avery really knew Ellie. Bran’s long silence proved Paul had scored that hit as intended.
Avery hadn’t come back from Europe in the entire time Bran and Ellie had been dating. Paul knew how she took her coffee, what types of movies made her cry, and which board games were her favorite. Which was why he was Bran’s best man instead of his brother. Cold comfort since Paul would have to face Avery again for the first time since college, but still.
Paul heard shouting in the background of the call, and he glanced at his watch. It was too early for the limo to the bachelor party, but all of the rental cabins had wet bars that were fully stocked. The groomsmen were likely pregaming it.
“Look, I’ve got t o go,” Bran said. “The guys are getting antsy, and I don’t want to lose our deposit.”
Paul grinned. Their friends weren’t that rowdy, but compared to Bran they were downright animals.
If left to his own devices, Bran wouldn’t have had a bachelor party at all. His idea of a wild night was a football game on the television and one, maybe two beers. The limo was going to take them to a sports bar in Tahoe City, but nothing too scandalous, and certainly nothing that would leave anyone in rough shape for tomorrow’s wedding.
“Sure, sure. Go. Have fun. I’ll catch up as soon as I get in.”
If he got in. The delay had changed from one hour to two while he’d been on the phone with Bran, but he didn’t want to be a downer and bring it up.
“Have a safe flight, man. See you when I see you.”
Paul tucked his phone back into his pocket and hitched his bookbag up on his shoulder. Maybe he could find a bar to have a beer while he passed the time.
Chapter TWO
AVERY’S LAYOVER in Dallas was thirty-two minutes, and he had to change terminals. Thank God he’d cleared customs in New York. He hated flying, which was one reason he hadn’t been back in the States in years. The other being the cost of transatlantic tickets on an associate professor’s salary. A London flat without a roommate was a big expense, and he was still paying off his college loans.
Plus he was a coward. He could admit that to himself after being up for over thirty hours of anxiety-ridden travel. The shipping company had been late coming to take the crates from his flat, so he’d been late turning in the keys to his landlord. That had shunted him into rush hour, which had meant full trains and commuters who were not at all impressed by his two rolling suitcases, a rolling carry-on, and his bulky satchel. By the time he’d arrived at Heathrow, he’d been tempted to pitch the suitcases, wardrobe be damned. A smarter man would have sent them with the shipping company. Lord knew he wouldn’t need his tweed jackets and brogues in Tahoe.
He had tunnel vision as he sprinted through the packed corridor to make his tight connection, but he registered his flight number being announced on the PA. He slowed, cocking his head as he listened. They were repeating the announcement in Spanish, but he understood enough of it—his flight was delayed, and the gate was changing to one in the terminal he’d just left.
Bugger.
Avery turned back toward the train he’d taken to the terminal. It was ten gates away, but there was no reason to run since his new boarding time wasn’t for more than an hour. That was good. It gave him time to get something to eat and freshen up before he got into Tahoe and joined Bran and the guys at his stag night.
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers snarling in a tangle. The real reason he was so flustered by the delays and worried about how he looked wasn’t something he wanted to think about. Sure, he didn’t want to miss his brother’s wedding. But that wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon. He had all the time in the world to get there. Even if his flight ended up canceled tonight, he’d have no problem getting to Tahoe well before the late-afternoon ceremony.
No, the reason he was so worried wasn’t disappointing the groom, it was how the best man would react. He’d stalked Paul’s social media like a preteen girl for years, and Bran was always more than happy to give Avery updates about him. But Avery hadn’t spoken to Paul or seen him in person since he’d left for Europe.
Or, more accurately, since he’d snuck away like the coward he was without saying goodbye or even telling Paul he was leaving.
His last visual memory of Paul was of him sleeping as Avery eased out the door of the bedroom they’d shared. He still had the heartbreaking voicemail Paul left him three days later. Avery thought a clean break was the best thing for them, and he’d been wrong. He’d realized how stupid he’d been as he listened to Paul’s voicemails, full of angry tears and recriminations. Avery had never hated himself as much as he had the afternoon he stood in the tiny bedroom of his flatshare in Canary Wharf playing Paul’s message again and again just to hear his voice. He’d forwarded it over three number changes and half a dozen new phones. Listening to it was his favorite form of self-flagellation. It also served to remind him that he’d committed to this choice, and there wasn’t a road back.
He hadn’t told anyone about his application to London School of Economics. He’d already been accepted to continue at Northwestern, but he’d wanted something different, something more. He’d applied to some prestigious West Coast schools as well, but London had been a longshot because he’d applied late and needed a boatload of scholarships to make it work. But the thought of all the opportunities he’d have in Europe had made his heart race, and he’d secretly applied to LSE and several other UK universities when he realized he wanted to specialize in international economics for his PhD.
He’d lived in Chicago his entire life, and even though he loved his family, he’d wanted more. To travel, to get access to research opportunities abroad, to expand his horizons and challenge his worldview—none of that was possible in Chicago.
So he’d applied, and even after a space had opened up at LSE, he hadn’t said anything because he’d needed his scholarship and visa to go through. When they did, he’d been struck by the enormity of what he was doing. His bravado had wavered, and he kept that to himself too. Partly because he didn’t want anyone to try to talk him out of it, because they probably would have succeeded.
He’d told his parents the night before he left. They’d been shocked but proud. But he hadn’t told Paul. Or Bran. The two people most impacted by him moving and the two people he’d most regret leaving behind.
He’d lied to himself, trying to paint his relationship with Paul as a casual one where it wouldn’t hurt either of them to move on. It terrified him when that hadn’t eased the ache in his chest at the thought of leaving. It meant Paul was more important to him than he wanted to admit, and that was dangerous.
So he’d reasoned he could control that outcome by making a clean break and ensuring there was nothing to come back to in Chicago. His brother would forgive him, he knew that. But Paul—Paul wouldn’t. Not if he left with no doubt about his intentions. A long-distance relationship would split his focus, and he couldn’t afford that. His career was too important, and sacrifices had to be made.
So he’d walked out without a word. Slamming that door with Paul had felt like the right choice in the moment, and even though it hadn’t stopped Avery’s feelings for him, at least it had done exactly what he’d hoped—it had made Paul hate him and kept Paul from trying to pursue him after he’d left.
Avery stepped onto the train and leaned against the window, watching the lights fly by as the train took him back to the other terminal. Seeing Paul was going to be hard, and convincing him to give him a second chance was going to be even harder. But there was something about Paul that had gotten under Avery’s skin and never let go. He hoped Paul felt the same way and could get past how Avery had treated him.
Avery let himself wallow for a few more seconds before he pulled out his phone and shot a text off to his brother.
Flight delayed in Dallas. No worries, I’ll still make it in time for the end of your stag night.
Bran never worried that Avery would let him down, which was ironic because Avery often did. But his brother wasn’t one to hold broken promises against him. No one in their family did, which had been fine at twenty, but he was looking down the barrel of thirty-five now, and they continued to forgive him for being a self-centered ass. He’d missed his sister Jess’s wedding five years ago, countless holidays, birthdays, his parents’ huge fortieth wedding anniversary. And now Jess was pregnant.
He was resolved not to miss any more milestones. He’d turned in his notice at King’s College, where he taught economics, and even his department chair hadn’t been surprised. Not that he should have been. Avery had a reputation as a chronic job hopper. He’d been at the school longer than any of his other lecturer positions, heading into his fourth year. Before that, his record had been two and a half years as an adjunct at his alma mater, the London School of Economics. He wanted to put down roots, but there was always a new project, a new opportunity, a new stepping stone in his career.
He was tired of being someone no one could count on. His friends in academia referred to it as itchy feet. His parents called it wanderlust. But really it was a lifelong allergy to commitment and a healthy dose of FOMO. Avery was always afraid the world would pass him by if he stayed still too long.
