“Get in the middle of the front seat,” I said, ushering Dash inside. I climbed in beside him. Based on the next honk, then the foul language shouted at us, I wasn’t moving fast enough for the driver’s liking. That last nerve snapped, halting my progress to sit beside Dash.
My guy grabbed my wrist before I could move a solid step in the other car’s direction. I’d teach that motherfucker how to be patient when necessary. Scott’s door opened, he began to leave the driver’s seat, ready to have my back.
“No, no. No fighting today,” Dash said loudly.
“We aren’t fightin’. We’re explainin’,” Scott said, but he stopped, waiting to see what I was going to do. The trip had been long and the drive into Chicago had been awful. Seconds passed. Dammit if Dash wasn’t right. We didn’t need all this tension in front of our new home.
“Lee, get in the truck,” I said, forcing myself to follow my own instruction, regardless of the way the guy tossed his hands in the air, brushing us off as a non-threat.
“Take the left into the parking garage and circle to the ninth floor. There’re freight elevators that go directly to our floor. It’llbe faster to use them,” Dash said. His joy erased my frustration. “Did you bring your jackets?”
“Yeah, but it was hard to believe we’d need them,” I said, threading our fingers together.
“I think we’re going to need an update in our wardrobe. We’ll have snow in the winter,” Dash said. He bent his head to my shoulder, lying there. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I murmured. Luckily, Scott didn’t utter a word, probably still mad at all the horn-blowing and fuck-you hand gestures. That was okay. He’d take off back home early tomorrow morning.
“Park there.” Dash pointed to the empty space with Carter’s name on it.
“What kind of car is that?” Scott asked about the one parked next to the truck.
“It’s a Saleen S7. It’s Carter’s. He wants us to drive it. It’s a 2005 and hasn’t been driven in a year,” Dash explained nonchalantly.
Scott’s weird expression locked on mine. “What’s a Saleen?”
I shrugged. “Fancy usually follows Dash.”
“Y’all are strange men. Get out. I have a cart waiting beside the elevator. It’ll help limit the trips,” Dash said and hip-bumped me to get moving. The cool air from below was colder up here, causing me to reach for my jacket.
“How much does that thing cost?” Scott asked, nodding to the Saleen. Dash didn’t answer until he was pushing the cart toward the bed of the truck. I had no idea of the expense, but I knew it had to be high.
“More than most people make in a lifetime, I’m sure,” Dash said, lowering the tailgate.
Rope crisscrossed the top of the bed, securing the boxes in place. I made quick work of untying the knots while Scott assisted my guy in filling the cart eight boxes high. He and Igrabbed more to carry, following where Dash led. My experience at FedEx had me familiar with the inner workings of high-rise buildings. This freight elevator was no different than any others. The hallway was good enough too. It was the entrance to the apartment that took my breath away and kept it that way as we put the boxes in the foyer and began exploring the place.
“Is this an apartment?” Scott asked, his head moving different directions, seemingly stunned by what he saw.
“I believe it’s a penthouse apartment,” Dash answered from behind, allowing us the raw advantage of taking in the picturesque furnishings and design. I’d seen parts of the home through Skype, but nothing prepared me for the luxury of the home. The highlight for me was the expansive windows in the living room. I assumed that was what they called this formal sitting room overlooking Lake Michigan. I was captivated, staring out at the churning lake. Large bodies of water always make me feel a little bit better about life.
Dash caressed a hand up my back until he gripped the nape of my neck. “I wanted to surprise you. There’s a boat dock to the right. We can rent something to fish on or buy a boat when we can. There are loads of free fishing docks around.”
“Fuck, Brooks. This place is nicer than your home in Dallas,” Scott said from the catwalk above us. “You got those waterspouts, ass cleaners in every bathroom.”
I pointed my finger toward the lake. “Check it out.”
“There’s some sort of transit heading in every direction. Even with the stops, it can be faster than driving,” Dash said, trailing his fingers down my arm to link our hands. “The kitchen’s in the other direction from where you entered. There’s a guest suite beyond the kitchen and two bedrooms upstairs,” he said, pulling me in the direction of Scott.
“The showers have jets all over the place,” Scott added. “And a detachable wand. I landed on the bed and it’s soft as shit. Laurenneeds to see this place, or maybe not. She’ll want us to live this way.” Each syllable Scott spoke held more and more awe.
Dash acted as my tour guide, but I’d spent a lot of time on video in the main bedroom. Scott hadn’t gotten it wrong. The rooms were just as remarkable as the rest of the house.
“The downstairs loops around into a dining room, a gym, an office, and another sitting room. It took me a few days to find them. It was a whole closed-door issue that I didn’t feel comfortable breaching,” Dash explained. His happiness was evident with the giant grin on his face. He tucked his hands into his jeans, patiently watching us discover the cool amenities that neither of us had ever seen before.
“What a badass place to live, Brooks,” Scott said on our ride down to finish unloading the truck. “And his old man’s gonna have a fit when he finds out?”
“I guess he already did,” I said when Dash didn’t immediately answer. “It went over like Dash and Carter expected.”
“Good, he’s a motherfucker,” Scott tossed over his shoulder. The unloading didn’t take nearly as long as the loading had. Not having to relay to Dash everything everyone said helped too.
