And, well, a few things came to mind as she gazed at him.
First, there was something quite surreal about the fact that she was taking a day trip with Dash—someone who, only a week ago, she’d spoken all of a dozen words to. Second, that she definitely did not want to spill her matcha tea on those cream seats. She took a massive gulp, then another, and finished the drink off. And third, Dash was attractive. Especially as he leaned back against the car in his dark blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal glimpses of the tattoos that wrapped around his forearms. There was a workman’s jacket slung over his shoulder and he wore faded jeans and aviator sunglasses that made him look like a classic Hollywood movie star.
And maybe it was okay to objectively know that he was sexy, right? He was, after all, an actor, or had been, or whatever, and it was his actual job to look good. So what if Sophie happened to notice his confident stance as he leaned back against the car? Or the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed? Or how he lowered his sunglasses and smiled a genuine, warm look, just for her?
All those things would’ve been okay, she thought, except that the smile he’d given her had, in turn, caused a swarm of nerves to erupt. Yes, a swirling, unexpected, jittery sensation in her stomach that was either butterflies or a result of chugging her matcha within the span of a minute.
Either way, neither of those options were great. Butterflies were reserved for people she had crushes on, not a person named Dash who was her best friend’s brother and had enlisted her to do a job. Though, if she was being honest, she’d worn a dress that cinched at the waist specifically because she knew it made her ass look amazing. And hadn’t she known she’d done that for Dash?
“You have a lot of stuff,” Dash noted.
She frowned. Did she? Yes, she’d brought a bag for snacks, a purse with her phone (plus credit cards, gloss, sunscreen, and toner), and a backpack with her laptop, notebook, pens, and planner—but those were just the essentials.
“Well, I had to bring snacks.” She unzipped the snack bag and opened it wide for Dash to see.
He peered in and pulled one from the top. “Air-dried pineapple?”
“So good,” she said. Just the thought of those crispy little wedges made her lips twitch. She wiped at the corner of her mouth, searching for any rogue drool.
He pulled out another option. “Cauliflower cheddar puffs?” He took off his sunglasses completely. “Sophie, did Poppy do this to you? Her gluten-free, sometimes-raw ways have robbed you of all your taste buds.”
She jutted out her hip and placed a defiant fist on it. “Why, what would you rather have?”
“Snacks—proper, made-of-chemicals, probably-will-take-years-off-your-life snacks.” He leaned into his car, popped open the glove box, and pulled out a bag of sour gummy worms. He ripped the plastic open and deftly popped one in his mouth. He moaned as he chewed.
Then, as if remembering she was there, he broke the lustful, sugar-induced moment and held the bag out to her.
“I’m not really a sour person,” she said. Though, she had to admit it was kind of cute to see him so excited about neon-colored candy.
“Suit yourself.” He grabbed a handful of gummies and popped two into his mouth.
Feeling the need to prove how great her own snacks were, she tore open a bag of dried chickpeas and ate a handful. Then she tucked the snack, her purse, and backpack on the floor where her feet would be. She sat in the passenger seat and buckled herself in. He slid the sunglasses back onto his face as he walked around to the driver’s-side door. Dash started the engine, and it purred through her entire body. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, and she watched his bicep flex underneath his shirt. Not that she was staring or anything.
They pulled out of the driveway. The caffeine from the matcha was starting to kick in and caused her leg to bounce in the seat as she asked, “Can you tell me about your dad? I know what Poppy’s idea of him is, but what comes to mind when you think of him?”
Dash’s hand moved on the steering wheel, rubbing the leather against his palm. “I’m not really used to talking about him.” There was an edge to his voice she couldn’t quite place.
She’d need Dash to feel comfortable if she was going to help him with the speech, so she offered, “I’m not used to talking about my dad either. He wasn’t in the picture. All I know is he moved to Florida when I was a baby and apparently started a new life and family there. The only time I ever heard from him was when Nina got on a cooking show and he magically popped up, suddenly wanting to be in our lives. But neither of us were interested in getting to know him, especially considering the timing.”
Then she stopped talking and waited to see if Dash would respond. Or, if she’d once again just been word-vomiting, as she often did. But then, to her delight, he spoke.
“To be honest, my dad wasn’t really around either.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She’d heard as much from Poppy. “He’s kind of this larger-than-life person because, in a lot of ways, he feels more like a movie star than my dad. I’ve seen him talk more on-screen than to me directly.”
She wanted to reach over and grab his hand, but she didn’t. Sophie worked hard to keep her face neutral. She didn’t want to make Dash feel bad, and she didn’t judge him. She took in a deep breath and leaned back against the comfort of the chair. “I know it’s not the same thing, but I was raised by a single mom. She worked nonstop to make sure we had everything we needed. My sister was really the one who raised me. And I adored my mom—we spent a lot more time together once Nina could help her financially—but I do understand what it’s like to miss your parent. Especially now that mine’s gone.”
Sophie’s mom had passed away almost a decade ago, and while she’d grieved, she would never really recover from losing her.
“I’m sorry about your mom,” he said. And to her surprise, he reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Thank you” was all she could think to say. Her hand practically burned from the spot where he’d touched her.
“The thing about my dad is,” he said, “I didn’t know him. So I didn’t know what I was missing, really.”
A little corner of her heart broke off for Dash. Because she hadn’t known her dad at all either, but Sophie had had her mom. And as much as her mom had worked, she’d still tucked them in every night. She read them books, and when Sophie was old enough, they read romance novels together. And Sundays were their family time. She’d never been in Dash’s shoes, but when she looked over, he didn’t seem fazed.