Page 32 of Penalty Kick

Oh shit…shit…

Dash didn’t seem fazed by it, slowly pulling his fingers out, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip. The pad of his thumb was rough, sending a shiver through her despite the temperature. She had loved the feel of his hand on her hip back at the ring toss, wondering what she needed to do to get more of that. Grabbing his hand earlier had been some sort of automatic reaction—something she hadn’t thought about until all of a sudden, her hand was in his. Once it was there, she knew it wasn’t going to leave unless absolutely necessary.

She didn’t understand any of what she was feeling, other than the longer they were together, their hands clasped, the closer she wanted to be to him. Gone was the suave charmer that she’d seen on numerous occasions, and in his place was a sweet, kind, fun guy. The one that she’d seen glimpses of—and who Liam insisted was the real Dash. This version she was starting to like. A lot.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“You do not have anything to be sorry about,” he whispered, his thumb swiping her lip again. Butterflies exploded from within her, the same way they had when he’d kissed her months ago. Part of her was dying for another kiss, another part of her trying to remind herself not to get too caught up in the moment.

It was just a date. She didn’t need to lose her head.

Dash’s hand found her hip again, cradling it like it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. It all seemed so natural, like his hand was made to fit right there, holding her as he stepped in close. So close that she could all but feel his breath. Her eyes locked on his, those deep brown irises full of something she couldn’t name. All she knew was it made those butterflies take flight all over again.

“Talia,” he whispered again, tilting his head toward her.

“Dash.”

Closing her eyes, Talia held her breath, wanting—praying—for what she was pretty sure was coming.

“Next!” a voice hollered, breaking the spell. Dash stepped back, smiling at her. Turning to her right, she saw the man who must have called out. She and Dash were next in line, a passenger car just waiting for them.

“We’re up!” she said, a nervous laugh following.

“Here,” Dash replied handing her a wet wipe packet.

Talia took the packet, quickly wiping down her fingers as she got into the passenger car. Dash followed, buckling them in for the ride.

“So, ummmm, tell me about you,” she said as they started to move.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything? I feel like you know all about me—about my mom passing, my move here, my work with the Unified team, but that I still know very little about you.”

Dash turned, looking out over the rest of the carnival. A pang of something close to regret hit Talia as she waited for him to respond. She thought it would be a natural question. He wasn’t much of a talker, at least not when it came to himself—she knew that. They’d been in enough group situations that she’d seen it firsthand. She and Avery talked enough for the whole group though, so it had never been a problem.

“I was raised mostly by my mother. My father…” Dash sighed. “He was a drunk, and was not around a lot. When he was around, he was not always the nicest guy. We did not have a lot, and at school, I kept to myself since a lot of the other kids were mean.”

“I’m so sorry.” Reaching over, she took his hand, giving it a squeeze. He looked back at her, his smile warm and grateful.

“I was twelve when he left, shortly after Maria was born. He got mad one night, accused my mother of cheating, saying things like he knew Maria was not his, and he walked out. He had done things like that before, but this time, he did not come back. We were better off though. We lived a block from San Plata, a local football club, so one day I knocked on the door and asked if I could do odd jobs for money. The coach there took pity on me, and agreed.”

“So, how did you start playing?”

“That same coach, Bobo, did some asking around after I showed up. He took me under his wing, making sure that there was always something around the club for me to do to earn some cash. He also insisted that I learn to play the game and learn English. He was from England, but had lived in Buenos Aires for almost thirty years at that point, so he knew the importance of being bilingual. He helped me get my first professional contract with San Plata. The day I signed that paper, I moved Mamá and Maria into someplace nice.”

“And he was the one who gave you the name Dash? Or did it come from somewhere else?”

“No, that was Bobo as well. Like many young men, I was named for my father. But after he split…well, it was not a name I wanted to associated with. One day Dash popped out of Bobo’s mouth, and it just stuck.”

“So, I should not call you Hector?”

“Sí. The only people who do are Mamá and Maria. But Hector is not who I am. Dash is.”

Talia squeezed Dash’s hand again, her heart following suit. She couldn’t help but wonder just how many people knew this about him. Not many, that was for sure. Nothing about the cocky, charming player would have ever led her to believe he’d had such a rough childhood. Which was probably what he wanted everyone to believe.

“You told me last week that you knew what kind of guy I am. But, I am not,” he continued. “I am not ‘that guy’ as Padre says. Do I like to go out? Yes, I do. I am in a big, new country and I like seeing the different cities we visit. The clubs—those are about the dancing. I am Latino—dancing is part of our culture and I love it. Because of my father, I do not actually drink that much. I limit my intake greatly. I have just become very good at disguising that I sip on the same beer for most of the night. And the women? Okay, I have enjoyed the company of many. Usually ones who seek me out. I am a sucker for a pretty face. Can you blame me?”

Talia huffed out a small laugh, a tight smile forming on her lips. She couldn’t blame him. As attractive as he was, it was no surprise that women threw themselves at him. Most people in his position probably would act the same way. She hated when people judged that part of her life, so she had no place to judge him.