“Is today really your birthday?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Did you get presents?”
He grinned; his body visibly relaxing. He dropped his arms from his chest. All good signs we’d turned the conversation around. “Yeah, that bike I was on that I wrecked in front of you.”
“Oh no.” Seriously on theno. I kept landing us in bad dialog after bad dialog. “Did it get messed up?”
“It’s fine. I get roughed up more in a game,” he said and turned toward me again. “But I did a badass somersault over the handlebars. The brushes stopped my fall. I nailed it. Makes me think I should have a career in stunt work.” Beau was clearly making fun of himself, yet he said it with hints of pride. For me, if I had received a single scratch, I’d have to be checked out in the emergency room. “I also got a cell phone.”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a new Nokia. “My dad always thought I was too young for a phone. Apparently, my mom doesn’t. That’s the cool thing about divorce, I guess.”
“Well, happy birthday.” It gave me a chance to look at him again, if only for a few seconds. I sensed we may have had a breakthrough and moved on from the awkwardness.
“Thanks. Take the next exit. There’ll be all residential roads from here.”
I did as instructed, feeling far better about the trip as I left the highway. The speed limit shifted to thirty miles an hour once we were back on the frontage road. Now all I had to do was find a way to keep Beau in the car for as long as I could.
Something about the dark, quiet night, mixed with the soft feel of luxurious leather, and this guy with his sexy cologne sitting next to me lulled my senses into a place I hadn’t been in a long time, —comfortable.
Since I rode with the enemy, I risked a lot. Images of my grandmother with a shotgun played through my head. There was about a fifty/fifty chance on whether she’d shoot me, but Dash definitely had zero percent chance of coming out unscathed.
I threw a joke when I should have been anxious. All Dash’s doing.
I managed to keep my humor on the inside as my cock strained, pulsing against my jeans every time he opened his mouth to speak. His smooth tenor sounded so intimate. Alluring, mixed with lots of fairy dust.
Dash was friendly, easy to talk to. Even though he did most of the heavy conversational lifting.
He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before. Genuine, responsible, and respectful of the world’s boundaries. Qualities I’d never known anyone my age to have before.
Maybe all wealthy people acted that way, but I didn’t think so.
“You like to do what’s right?” I asked.
“I don’t know about that,” he hedged then gave me a side grin. “That’s a lie. I’m generally aware of what’s right and what’s wrong. I try to stay on the right side of things. Sometimes, I fail.”
I nodded and turned toward him as much as my seatbelt allowed. “Like volunteering to drive me home?”
“Exactly,” he said, letting the word drag out as he nodded.
I got it. I tried to do what’s right. My rebellion came by climbing out my window at all hours of the day and night, but I generally stayed close to home.
“Take the right then the next left,” I said, when the lights from the convenience store came into view.
“You don’t have to be home right away, right?” Dash asked, flipping on the blinker and gently applying the brakes as we approached the four-way stop. He continued to slow, preparing to pull into the convenience store’s parking lot. “I really need to use the restroom.”
“They’re around back, but you need a key,” I said, scanning the parking lot. I didn’t recognize the few trucks or guys, who rested their forearms over the back of one truck’s bed.
If those guys were locals, my concern for Dash’s well-being spiked, and I pointed a finger to drive around the side of the building. “Why don’t you park around there and let me go get the key.”
The implication wasn’t lost on him. He took a wide curve to park in the back of the lot.
Dash came to a stop and lifted in his seat to extract his wallet from his back pocket. He thumbed through the bills, more cash than I’d ever seen, and pulled out a twenty, handing it to me. “Can you get me a Coke? And get whatever you want.”
I didn’t take the money as I reached for the door handle. I had my birthday money on me. It wasn’t much but I could buy us drinks.
Dash’s hand darted out, gripping my forearm, keeping me from leaving the car.
