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Then the patio door opens to reveal a slightly disheveled Dash. At the sight of him, my lips pulse with the memory of his mouth, and my bones seem to tingle and expand, pressing at the confines of my skin.
Charlie never had this effect on me.
Mrs. Keller follows my gaze, her stare taking in the tall lithe form of my friend. She probably sees all the harsh angles of him. High cheekbones, straight nose, jagged eyebrows. You need to look past that to realize how soft the curve of his mouth is and how a smile can liquify the hardness in his eyes. And I’m sure with a few more healthy meals that adorable sweater wouldn’t dangle from his square shoulders, but instead hug his tempting body.
As he moves towards us, Mrs. Keller turns back to me with a smirk.
“Seems Charlie has some competition, anyway.”
Chapter Nineteen
DASH
Paige:Are we still on for a training session tomorrow?
When I have a second to sit down at my desk, I pull out my phone and read Paige’s text. This isn’t the first time. I got her message near the start of my shift. Not knowing how to respond, I left it and tried to use a full morning of meetings with potential adopters to push away thoughts of her.
But that was near impossible.
She kissed me.
In a badass car, a gorgeous woman I’ve been fantasizing about kissed me. If I let my mind relax, I can still smell her earthy scent and feel the lush, silky texture of her lips hesitantly brushing against mine. The memory is delicious torture because I know it should never happen again.
It won’t happen again.
If her mom hadn’t interrupted us, I’m not sure what I would’ve done, but it likely would’ve involved a lot fewer clothes and me getting to stroke and grab her pale skin until I left fingerprints.
I want to mark her. Make her mine. Take her from that mansion of a house, buckle her into that glorious car, race through the streets of this town, and finally drag her to my bedroom where I’d make her scream and moan.
Even as I play out the fantasy in my mind, I berate myself for it.
I’m sick. Paige is turning into one of my addictions.
The only way to deal with those is avoidance.
Dash:Not sure.
I meant to typeno, but my thumbs added a few extra letters without my permission. As my out-of-date computer takes the couple minutes it needs to wake up after being asleep all morning, I wander off to the break room for a cup of coffee.
A generous donor gifted us with a Keurig last year, so the brew isn’t half bad. My main issue is that the moment I get a whiff of the dark black liquid, another image of Paige fills my mind.
When Paige left me alone in the garage with her mother, I expected the wackily dressed woman to scold me about corrupting her daughter and inform me I was no longer welcome in her house. Instead, she handed me a wrench and began pointing out the rusty bolts giving her trouble. As I tugged them loose, she talked.
“I had a helper over the summer, but he left for college last month. Been slow going on this beauty since then. When I’m done, she’s going to look like the queen of the night. Onyx black. A character in a popular TV show drives this model, which means there’s a group of diehard fans clamoring for their own. Not that I’m complaining. I love Impalas. Gave one to Paige for her college graduation. That girl got a 4.0. Can you believe it? Her dad and I couldn’t. Not that she’s not smart, mind you. Just, in high school she was more often reading than doing her homework. Drove us crazy. But she went off to college and figured it out. You’ve seen her car?”
It takes me a moment to realize she’d paused long enough to hear my answer.
“Yeah.”
“Gorgeous, isn’t it? Not the original color, but for Paige, I just had to get that candy apple green. You know she loves green. Only uses green pens with her editing. She used to hang out in the shop with me, and I’d always have to check all the seats and the floors of the cars for green pens before delivering them.” The woman chuckled, then grinned happily when I presented a handful of rusty bolts.
“You’re a lifesaver. Dash was it? Dash…?” She trailed off, leaving room for my answer.
“Lamont. Dash Lamont.”
“Well, Dash Lamont. You keep hanging around my daughter, and I’m going to keep taking advantage of you. Lord knows Paige refuses to help.” Mrs. Herbert didn’t sound put off, just mildly exasperated with her daughter’s lack of interest in cars. I could understand the disbelief. How could anyone have access to these vehicles and not want to spend all day tinkering on them?
I was about to ask if she needed help with anything else when a dark figure loomed tall in the door.
