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stuff. Adam puts that stuff out by the bushel. We go with the flow if you know what I mean.”
    â€œAre you saying all that stuff they print is lies ?”
    Dallas threw back his head and laughed. “Absolutely. The truth is the guys and I are so boring, we could put you to sleep. Take Chico for instance. He’s got Latin good looks and a love ‘em and leave ’em profile. The guy’s married with three beautiful little girls. He adores his wife, he plants tomatoes and bell peppers and builds model airplanes. He mows his own lawn and car pools when he’s home. We’re normal people. The fans don’t want normal people, so we pretend.”
    â€œI don’t think I like your brother,” Sara blurted.
    â€œAdam is okay. Everyone gets what they want. The fans are happy. The guys are happy. Adam’s happy.”
    â€œAre you happy, Dallas?”
    â€œAs long as I have my music, I’m happy. Would you like to see my sound studio? Did you agree to breakfast or not?” He reached for her hand. Sara allowed it to be taken because it felt right.
    â€œYes to both. This is an enormous house. Do you entertain a lot?”
    â€œNever! It has fourteen rooms. The grounds are about four acres, maybe a little more. I have two guest cottages and a five-car garage.” He stopped in mid-stride. “It’s not a home yet. It’s still a house. It doesn’t have all that stuff mothers and wives put around to make it look real. What’s your house look like?”
    â€œWhy don’t you come and see it. I have a lot of junk and green plants. Lots of books and magazines. I could give you my overflow. I’ve been thinking about getting an animal, but I’m not home that much. Carly’s never home either, so it wouldn’t be fair to the animal. The house was left to Carly and me by our parents. We kept everything the way it was because we grew up with the furnishings and we’re comfortable with things. This is pretty sad,” Sara said, looking around Dallas’s living room. He was still holding her hand. It still felt good, and it felt right. Did he move closer, or did she? She started to feel warm all over.
    â€œI bet you’re going to hate my kitchen.”
    A moment later, Sara gasped. “You’re right. It looks like an institution kitchen.”
    â€œBilly said the same thing. His kitchen in Chicago is all yellow and green. Real sunny. Does that mean you can’t picture yourself eating scrambled eggs in here?”
    â€œWhy don’t we just have another root beer?”
    â€œSounds good. Would you like to see my projection room and the sound studio? We record here quite often. It’s a little more lived-in than the rest of the house.” Dallas reached for her hand again and squeezed it slightly. Sara’s neck grew warm and stayed that way. She found herself looking up at him, aware suddenly of his height and the breadth of him. She was aware for the first time of how muscular he was, how loose-jointed as he walked along, pointing out the names of his equipment. He was still wearing his baseball cap. She wondered why. What would he look like in a suit, shirt, and tie? She tried to imagine him ringing her doorbell for a date. She stumbled over a cable. Dallas caught her before she could fall, drawing her close to him.
    Sara felt her heart take on an extra beat or was it Dallas’s heartbeat she was hearing and feeling? Suddenly her tongue felt three sizes too big for her mouth, and the lump forming in her throat had to be as big as a lemon. Her eyes locked with his. He was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes and swayed dizzily as she waited for his lips. And then nothing.
    â€œGood God, are you okay? That was my fault. I should have moved the cable. I knew it was there, but I walked over it. Are you sure you’re okay? You look . . . strange. Say something, Sara.”
    â€œI thought you were going to kiss