Sophie and Dash made their way across the yard and toward the edge of the property line, where a field of gnarled grapevines sat in the shadow of the looming mountains. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the rocky mountainsides in a shade of dusty pink. The light warmed every inch around them, and Sophie’s mouth opened as she took the view in. She hadn’t seen an Ojai sunset—the Pink Moment—in years, and she turned to tell Dash as much, but he was already looking at her. He quickly blinked and turned back before she could say anything. She lingered on him for a few moments—at the dimple in his chin and the small, perfectly round mole centered on his cheekbone. She studied the semivisible tattoo on his left bicep—a longhorn skull with the horns pointed forward—but forced herself to look away and back to the setting sun.
Even though she was focused on the mountains, she was close enough to smell the overwhelming wet-earth scent of Dash. And as he took a deep breath in, then out, she noticed the rhythm of his breaths. What would it be like to be wrapped up in his arms, pressed against that chest and feel the rise and fall of him as they breathed together?
“There it goes,” Dash said.
Sophie followed his gaze to the mountains where the sun had finally dipped behind the rocky crest and the sky was being swallowed by charcoal light.
“Hey.” Ned’s voice cut through the air. Sophie turned as he approached with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Sorry I came in hot at the bookstore.”
Brittany emerged from their house with another wineglass and called out to them, “I told Ned that bringing your old Valentine was weird. Who does that? Petty people, that’s who.”
“She did tell me that.” Ned rolled his eyes, then handed Sophie a glass and extended one to Dash.
“I’m good.” Dash shook his head no.
“You sure?” Ned tilted the bottle. “I’m a sommelier, and this is a special bottle. It’s twenty years old and aged beautifully.”
“Even I’m going to have a little sip.” Brittany’s head tilted slightly.
“I’m good, thanks,” Dash said coolly. Sophie couldn’t help but notice how his entire body had gone rigid, so different from when they watched the sunset.
Ned poured wine into Sophie’s glass, then his own. They sipped and looked out toward the mountains. Eventually, Ned said, “So you’re a writer, too?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that.” Dash’s hands went into his pockets. He rocked back on his heels. “I used to be an actor, but now... I don’t have a steady job yet. I do a lot of gardening and some crafting.”
Sophie almost choked on her wine. He was a crafter? News to her. He hadn’t so much as mentioned that he... What did crafters do? Macramé?
“What do you make?” Ned asked.
“Mostly ceramics, but sometimes I work with candles, soaps, and body wash.”
“You do?” Sophie’s voice sounded way too surprised but, well, she was surprised. The guy lived next door to her, and they’d spent more than an hour alone in the car together, but he’d never brought up anything about ceramics. “You never told me that.”
Dash looked at her, amused. “That’s because I can’t get a word in, most of the time.”
Ned snickered loudly.
“Sophie, I think I know why you and Ned didn’t work out—you both talk too damn much.” Brittany looked directly at Dash. “I can’t get him to shut up half the time, and he talks in his sleep. I never have peace.”
“Wait until the baby arrives,” Ned said. “You’ll think of this time as peaceful then.”
“We did four rounds of IVF to get this girl.” Brittany rubbed her bump. “When she’s here, she can scream as loud as she likes.”
“Congrats.” Sophie waved a hand at Brittany’s belly and then gave her a warm smile. “My sister, Nina, froze her eggs this year. She said the whole process was hard, but obviously worth it in the end.”
“Definitely.” Brittany nodded.
Ned and Brittany shared a look, and Dash leaned over to Sophie.
“Do you talk in your sleep?” His breath smelled sweet, like honey.
She didn’t think so, as no one she’d dated had ever mentioned it, but she said, “You’ll have to tell me if I do after tonight.” Their eyes met, and she nearly laughed at how forward she’d sounded. She’d really need to watch her words if they were going to share that bed.
“You look a little familiar, Dash. Did you act in anything I’d know?” Brittany asked.
Dash shook his head, as if dismissing the idea. “Mostly indie movies.”
“Well, everyone’s seen Holiday Bound.” Sophie elbowed him but found he didn’t playfully elbow her back.
“You were in that?” Ned asked.
“Yeah.” Dash scratched at the back of his head. “I played the little brother.”
“The little brother...” Brittany’s eyes darted around the lawn, as if searching for him. “The one who brings ice cream to bed and comes downstairs covered in chocolate?”
Dash seemed to fight back a smile. Sophie was relieved that he was warming up, especially since they had a whole night ahead of them.
“Oh, wait.” Brittany’s eyes narrowed. “Wasn’t the little brother the real brother of Reece Montrose?”
Dash paused before answering. “I am, yeah.” He looked down at his feet, and Sophie realized, too late, that maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned the movie at all. Maybe he was embarrassed by all the attention, or something?
“That is wild.” Brittany’s hands came up to her mouth. “We’re with Hollywood royalty.”
Sophie tried to shoot Dash what she hoped was an apologetic look, and he pursed his lips back, seeming to accept.
Ned lifted the wine bottle and peered at it. “You sure you don’t want some?”
Dash didn’t immediately respond, but his focus was on the glass.
“You know, I’m actually not feeling well.” Dash sent a hand through his hair. “I’m going to lie down.”
He looked to Sophie briefly, and she sensed he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned to walk off toward the cottage.
“Dash?” Sophie called after him. She didn’t know why, but the look he’d given suggested that there was more going on. Maybe he really was just not feeling well, but she needed to see for herself. “Let me just make sure he’s okay.” Sophie handed Ned her glass and hurried after Dash.
The sun had completely set, and the trail back to the bungalow was lit by overhead strings of twinkle lights. The ground was uneven beneath her feet, but she took care not to deviate from the pavers lining the path.
“Dash?” she called out to him again, but he didn’t so much as turn to acknowledge her.
12
DASH
He’d heard Sophie call out his name. Of course he had. At this point, anytime she spoke, he paid attention. Still, he hadn’t stopped. What he needed was to get back to their room, close the door, and wait there until morning came. Then they could head home and pretend he hadn’t just fled a group conversation as if being chased by hornets.
He wasn’t going to drink. He wouldn’t break eighteen months of sobriety just because he was a little stressed at the idea of having to share a bed with Sophie or because someone happened to bring up his family. He wouldn’t.
Still, he needed to put distance between himself and the bottle. He didn’t want any unnecessary temptations. When he got to the room, though, Sophie had caught up and closed the door behind her. She wasn’t tall, but her curves took up space. Not that he should be sneaking glances at the top of her dress, where her cleavage was pushed up and toward him...
“Hey.” Her hands easily rested on her hips. “You okay?”