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“See, that’s exactly what I mean.” I look down at the puddle at my feet and shrug. My poor Skechers. “I was just thinking how nice you are to help me like this. It’s really . . . super of you. You’re totally my hero.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll—” His lips quiver as he loses the battle to maintain his stony exterior.

“You’ll what?” Somehow, I keep my features neutral. I may be far from innocent, but I’m not above playing dumb.

He balls up the matching Superman T-shirt as if he doesn’t want me to see the big red S emblazoned across the front and chucks it at me, hitting me square in the chest. “Don’t say a word. Go change. And please throw those things out.” He nods toward the black-and-white stripes peeking from my open zipper.

I finger the mangled waistband while he grumbles about his leather seats.

“I get it,” I say. “Not like I can ever wear them again, anyway.” Not when they look like a badger chewed through them.

“I can’t believe you wore them in the first place.”

“I was being safe.” My face heats. “You never told me what color . . . and you could’ve been a rapist.”

He flashes a wide smile. “You think I’m cuter than Ted Bundy.”

A wave of fresh heat envelops my face. “I-I can’t be held responsible for anything I said while I was freaking out.”

“Hmm.” The grin fades into a frown. “Speaking of things you said, is your grandma really running a background check on me?”

A ripple of laughter slips out, bouncing off the concrete walls like ping-pong balls. “Maybe.”

“Perfect.” He rolls his eyes. “Hurry up so we can get out of here.”

“Zoey, wake up.” Dash nudges my shoulder.

I wipe the drool from my cheek and blink in confusion. The last thing I remember is washing my shorts and my sneakers in a public bathroom and then climbing into the front seat, barefoot and wearing Dash’s underwear and T-shirt, looking like a kid in a pair of Superman Underoos. I peer out the window at the Mack’s Garage sign hanging above a pair of closed garage bay doors.

I straighten in my seat and search for signs of life in the empty parking lot. My breath hitches as I turn toward Dash. “What time is it?”

He winces. “A little after six.”

“We missed them?”

“I’m sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “The car took longer to charge than I expected.”

With a halfhearted laugh, I sink into the warm leather seat. “What’s one more day without my clothes, right?”

Dash blows out a breath. “Listen, it’s been a long day. We’re both exhausted. Let’s head over to the Hicksville Inn.”

“Together?” Heat prickles over my skin. “I . . . do you think that’s a good idea?”

He laughs. “I reserved two rooms.”

“Oh! Okay. Good.” The air in my lungs whooshes out.

“I’m so far past exhausted.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and rubs. “I need to sleep for at least twelve hours. But I promise I’ll bring you back over here to get your stuff in the morning.”

“That’s fair.” I drag my bottom lip through my teeth. “But I can’t let you pay for my room.”

“Zoey—”

“I’ve got it. It’s fine.” I wave my device in front of him like a victory flag. How much could a room in Hicksville possibly cost? “I’ll go online, book a room, and pay for it. Venmo to the rescue.”

He lifts his brows. “With the cards you closed? And no ID?”

A low groan creaks out of me. “No.”