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There it is. I’ve dropped the hammer. Now it’s time to watch her get uncomfortable, throw out a lame excuse, then make a quick escape in her glorious car, leaving behind only enough of a memory for me to think about tonight when I’m in my bed.
“Okay. What were you in for?”
This woman has a knack for robbing me of words. For a moment I just stare down at her curious face, my mouth bobbing open as I attempt to figure out what to say next.
“What was I in for?” Apparently, my brain still isn’t working right.
“Yeah. Did you kill someone? Murder or manslaughter?”
“What? No!”
“Okay. That’s good. Did you assault someone?”
“No! Paige, that’s not…” I trail off, trying to figure out how best to relate my degenerate status.
“Cross that one off then. Did you—“
“I stole cars!” I had to cut her off before she continued running down a list of possible crimes. We could’ve been standing around all day till she made it to the right one.
“Oh.” Paige’s face goes blank, and I’m impressed with how well she’s hiding her discomfort.
I take a step back, making her escape easier.
Only, she doesn’t hurry around the driver’s side of her tempting vehicle. Instead, Paige shoves her hands in her pockets and resumes her pleading look.
“So, would thirty dollars an hour work? Or am I lowballing you? How much do people normally charge for lessons?”
Shit. Now she’s brought money into it. And for some reason, Paige doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the fact that she’s standing next to an ex-con. This girl makes no sense.
“I’m a criminal, Paige. You should hire someone on the up and up.”
She frowns, and the expression puckers her lips enticingly. “No, you’re not. You’re on parole. You’ve served your time.”
My hair flops on my forehead as I shake my head, and I can’t stifle my exasperated sigh. “You’re too trusting.”
PAIGE
“Yeah. I guess that’s true.”
Dash’s words hit me harder than he probably meant them to. How could he know I just had my trust demolished by the guy I planned on spending the rest of my life with? Somehow, I’m able to keep from wincing.
Maybe Dash is right. Maybe I should go with a professional trainer.
Problem is, I don’t want to sort through random people and potentially risk calling in someone I know nothing about. I’ve only interacted with Dash a couple of times, but there’s this familiarity, a sense of comfort that overwhelms me when I’m around him.
I swear it’s not because he’s hotness on a stick, coated in sexiness, and deep-fried in butter.
Maybe I like the fact that he hasn’t pointed out how weird I am, yet. People seem to do that a lot as if it’s a compliment to clarify I’m awkward.
I get it.I’m always tempted to snap.No need to broadcast my social ineptitude to the world and any passerby who may be listening.
And if I want to be completely honest with myself, I need to acknowledge that I don’t let a lot of people into my life. Somehow, it seems like Dash has already found himself a spot.
So why bother with anyone else?
When it comes to his past mistakes, I have no room to point fingers. His parole status barely registers on my radar.
Then there’s his open honesty to take into account. I could use more people being straight with me. I’ve had enough lying.
