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What? Now it’s my turn to choke on my wine.
“You’re scared of puppies?” Zelda asks, brow furrowed.
“She’s terrified.” Dash speaks for me. “Freaks out at the sight of them. Went into meltdown and crawled under the table to hide for an hour. I had to tempt her out with a slice of cake and three hours of Bridgerton. Not the season with the dog though, for obvious reasons.”
“How… Interesting.” Zelda gives me a weird look, and I don’t blame her. I sound deranged.
I kick Dash under the table. Hard.
“I was bit by an angry cockapoo as a child,” I say quickly. “But I don’t have a problem anymore. Dash found me a great canine therapist. Didn’t you, pumpkin?”
“I sure did, honeybun.” Dash looks back at me, his eyes bright with mirth. Touche.
“Well. This is all fascinating. I never knew Dash could be so… Thoughtful,” Zelda says, looking surprised.
“Someone must have raised him right,” I beam.
Shameless sucking up? Absolutely.
But before Dash and I’s stories can spiral completely out of control, Zelda gets to her feet. “Please excuse me. Dinner has been most… Interesting, but I have a standing appointment with my circus coach.”
Her what now?
“And I need to hop on a call with California,” Piper adds. She grabs her plate of profiteroles. “But I’m definitely taking dessert along for the ride.” She gives me a wink and follows Zelda out. “See you tomorrow!”
The minute they’re gone, Dash lets out a strangled laugh. “Serenading?” he exclaims. “Really?”
“Puppies?” I retort. “I made you seem like the perfect boyfriend, but you made me sound like a total kook!”
“Is that really what you want in a guy?” Dash asks, reaching over to steal one of my pastries. “Hot air balloons and carriage rides?”
“Ugh, nope. That stuff is so cheesy,” I reply, stealing it right back. “But I figured it was the kind of thing a guy like you would do, if you ever wanted to impress someone.”
“What do you mean, a guy like me?”
I get up and take Zelda’s untouched dessert plate as I go. Waste not, want not, right? “You know, someone who cares more about the big gesture than finding out what the other person actually wants.”
“I know what women want!” Dash protests with a laugh, trailing me out of the dining room. “Call any name in my little black book, and they’ll tell you. I never leave a woman unsatisfied.”
I smirk. “Let me guess, you send red roses, and buy them fancy lingerie, too?”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Dash gives me a smoldering look that makes my stomach twist.
I look away, flustered. “Not bad. Just cliché.”
I head upstairs, and Dash follows. “For someone who’s single, you sure have a lot of opinions about what makes the perfect boyfriend,” Dash comments, teasing.
“And for someone who claims to be such a success with women, it’s interesting you have to pay one to put up with you for the whole weekend,” I shoot back.
“Well, you know my reason for that,” Dash says, coming to a stop by my bedroom door. He fixes me with a smirk. “There’s no danger of you falling head over heels for me.”
“None at all,” I vow, trying to block the memory of his mouth on mine.
“Glad to hear it, honeybun,” he says, and leans in to kiss me on my cheek.
At least, that’s what I realize he’s doing—a moment too late. I jolt in surprise, turning towards him…
… So his lips brush against my mouth, instead.
