“What?” I asked.
His hand landed on my thigh with a brief caress and gentle squeeze. He didn’t let it linger. It meant a lot that he tried to respect my boundaries.
“You’re giving everything to your mom?” Dash restated what I just said.
“Yeah, I just said that. It can’t be the first you’ve heard about it.” My furrowed brow had to show my confusion. “She lost her ability to work in Mobile County. She had to take low paying jobs and work all day and night every day to pay for all the bullshit legal fees that just kept comin’. She took care of my grandmother until she died. Her car’s fifteen years old, she rents, and needs a retirement fund.”
“He’s a good dude,” Scott said directly to Dash. “He’s changed but it’s still there.”
“Stop it,” I said, feeling a flush rising in my cheeks.
“None of my siblings would trade their inheritance to help either of my parents. They’re like buzzards circling, waiting for the end.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second which made Dash and his desire to be self-supporting more special. The tip of my thumb lifted on its own accord, caressing a small swipe over Dash’s sweatshirt. I didn’t even consider doing it. But between the two of us, he was by far the better human being.
“Wait, your family has money?” Scott asked.
Dash ping-ponged his gaze between my mom and me, clearly in need of a lifeline. I saved him from his confusion.
“Remember when that hotel moved into Sea Springs?”
Scott nodded but with the way his eyes narrowed, I wasn’t sure he remembered.
“His dad owns it and a lot of other things in Texas. I believe he got started in oil?”
Dash nodded, shaking his hand in a “sort of, kind of” way.
“Oh man, that totally clicks.” Scott’s palm landed on the table with a whack, his smile spreading wider.
“Meaning?” Dash replied. Scott’s words hit a nerve. It seemed Dash still tried to pretend he was an average guy.
“I think he means how you present yourself,” I answered, cocking my head to better see Dash.
“How do I present? I’m fitting in,” he said, lifting both his hands as if he looked the same as the rest of us. All three of us burst out laughing at his absurdity and absolute cluelessness. Dash shot out an elbow, jabbing me in the ribs. “I blend in fine. We’re dressed the same, eating the same food. I would have had a cocktail but I’m not sure how Beau feels about it.”
Scott’s loud bark of laughter couldn’t be contained. He drew everyone’s attention around us. “Who says cocktail around here? We’re country folk.”
“You guys, good?” the waitress asked.
“Ever hear the word cocktail around here?” Scott asked.
“Not that often,” she said, unsure of her response. She scanned each of our faces, looking for the landmine she’d somehow stepped in. “But yeah, so you play football for Samford, right?” she asked, her eyes landing on me while gathering the baskets from each of us. “You’re the one everyone goes nuts for.”
As the spotlight shifted to me, my mom knew the drill and grabbed her purse, starting out of the booth. Scott followed. “Used to. I gotta get a job now. It’s a family thing.”
Dash got my pointed stare. He needed to hustle out of the booth, but he didn’t budge.
“Man, everybody’s gonna be disappointed.” She cast a long glance over her shoulder to the guys sitting at the bar.
Something went down in that exchange, further signaling our cue to roll out of there before I got swarmed with questions. I’d be offered jobs and cash on the side to stay.
“Well, have a good night,” she said.
My mom placed tip money on the table. We’d paid for our food up front when ordering. Dash just needed to get hustling.
“I’m about to have an onslaught of people comin’ to talk football with me. We need to go.” I gave him a solid hip bump. If he fell to the floor, I’d toss him over my shoulder and get the hell out of there. “We’ll get trapped.”
“Where’re your mom and Scott?” Dash asked. A snail moved faster than him. He checked his clothes, shook out his jeans, completely unhurried. From my peripherals, I caught the waitress with the guys. Gasps ensued.
