DASH: A Secret Billionaire Romance

by Lucy Lambert

  Given who I was, it was almost a certainty. Not that I thought I resembled any old pictures of me anymore.

  Then again…

  “First, they’ll have to admit that three of ‘em got bested by one guy.” I smirk at the girl, and her shoulders drop slightly. She knows I’m right.

  “I should get going anyway,” I said. I’d been planning on finding some place to camp out for the night, but right then I just wanted a gas station to fill up at so that I could hit the road again.

  It was too bad, really. I kind of wanted to stay a while longer. I was more disappointed than I thought I’d be. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  I grabbed my helmet and started pulling it down. When it hit my new shiner I sucked in a breath at the pain.

  “Oh, come on. At least let me take a look at that,” she said.

  “No. I have to get going…”

  She grabbed my helmet and pulled it off again. I got my first good look at her.

  My first impression was accurate. She had a beautiful face. Something about the way her hair fell around it after the little fight just improved on her looks.

  Her old sweater hinted at a lithe, luscious body hidden underneath.

  She looked up at me. I found her eyes startling. They were a lush green, alive and clever and sharp. And they totally arrested me.

  She is so familiar, I kept thinking.

  “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “No,” I replied right away. Even this far out they'd probably gotten news reports. Articles on Yahoo and MSNBC and whatnot. I’m sure my face was plastered all over them.

  Ever since I left, no woman had caught my eye. My journey so totally absorbed me that I never spared a second glance for anyone.

  Not until this moment. What’s so special about her?

  “Do you know me?” she asked, a curious light in her eyes.

  “Not that I can recall,” I said, surprised at her question. Those eyes of hers goaded me on, though, putting me on the defensive. “I think you remind me of someone I used to know, is all.”

  “Oh,” she said, not quite sounding like she believed me. While the desperate fear was gone from her eyes, I could see her hands shaking from the adrenaline, her pulse thrumming in her throat.

  We both looked when the men lying on the sidewalk around us began stirring.

  “I should go,” I said, starting back towards my motorcycle.

  “Come with me,” she said, her eyes darting over my body too quick for me to read her impressions. “Let’s get you something warm to eat. You look like you need it. And I can take a look at that cheek.”

  “Really, that’s okay. I… have somewhere to be,” I said.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Really? Where?”

  That dumbfounded me. It was just one of those polite things that people say to each other. One of those things that have no real meaning, just a nice way of begging off.

  “Fine,” I relented. “I can stay for a minute. But just a minute.”

  “Sure,” she said, exhaling a little. “We’ll just go up the road. Follow my truck.”

  She jumped in and started the old Ford up, the engine roaring, and pulled away from the curb. I sat astride my bike and pulled my helmet on, wincing once more when the soft interior padding brushed over my aching cheek.

  I was hungry. And my cheek did hurt. She might offer me something, like a bag of frozen peas or the like, that I could press against it.

  Even just the thought of something so pleasantly cold against the hot pain had me shuddering in anticipation.

  I’ll take her up on the offer, but then I’m out of this place, I thought. I stood up and then brought my weight down on the bike’s kick starter, giving the throttle a quick twist to prime the engine. It sputtered to life, growling between my thighs.

  Then I’m out of here, I thought again, pulling out and catching up to the truck.

  .

  Chapter 4

  ELLIE

  I needed to go back to Abby’s and grab my laundry. I hoped that Bobby didn’t remember that I left them. Now that she really had a reason to be angry, he might take out his rage on the only clothes I owned.

  Thinking about that made me resent my mysterious savior.

  Still, he had helped. The least I could do was get some food into him and give him some ice for that bruise starting on his cheek.

  I tried to not think about what nice cheeks they were. What a nice face he had, in general.

  I pulled into the gravel driveway of the old two-story that I lived in. The swing on the porch squeaked on its hinges when the breeze caught it.

  Then I got out and waited. The biker pulled in behind the truck. In spite of myself, a little thrill of excitement ran up my chest when he swung off the saddle and pulled his helmet off again.

  Also in spite of what he said before, I thought he did know me. And somewhere inside, I thought I knew him, too. I just couldn’t place him yet.

  He looked out of place in that armored riding suit.

  “Let’s get inside,” I said, walking up the steps to my front door.

  He followed me in, and soon we both sat at my kitchen table.

  “So where are you headed?” I asked.

  “Someplace,” he replied.

  “Funny. Pleasant isn’t really on the way to anywhere in particular.” The interstate bypassed the town by a good handful of miles. You had to take various country and back roads to even reach the town.

  The old-timers liked it that way, though. Kept the place quiet.

  My mysterious stranger, sitting from me across the table, was the most interesting thing to happen to the town since I could remember.

  I went to the freezer and grabbed one of those cold packs that I used to keep my lunch cool, and put it on the table in front of him.

  He grabbed it and began raising it to his eye. I reached out and put my hand over his before he could. He frowned at me.

  “You have to put something between it and your skin, otherwise the cold will burn you,” I said.

  I grabbed a dish towel from the drawer by the sink, took the pack from him, and wrapped the pack with it. I handed it back and he set it gingerly against his bruise.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “You have a name?” I said.

  “I do,” he replied. I saw the hint of a grin there, followed by another hint of surprise. I don’t think the stranger was used to humor or smiling. Not for a while, anyway.

  This one had a story to tell, I knew. Some baggage he carried around on the broad shoulders of his.

  “I’m Ellie,” I started, “Ellie Granger. Since you have a name, I’d like to hear it. I can’t keep calling you ‘the stranger’ in my head.”

  His eyes roamed the kitchen. It was a small, neat space. Varnished countertops and cabinets. A single sink. Range in the corner. A humble space, but it was mine and I kept it clean.

  What do you have to hide? I wondered. I could see some of what he thought. He wondered if he could trust me, if maybe he should give me a fake name.

  Finally, those green eyes of his came to rest on me again. “Dash,” he said.

  “Dash what?”

  “Just Dash.” He tried a different angle with the cold pack, winced, then sighed at the renewed coolness against the bruise. “Was that hayseed really the sheriff’s son?”

  “Of course. Why would I lie about something like that?” I said.

  “People have all sorts of reasons for lying.” He shrugged.

  I crossed my arms and leaned back against the padding of my chair. “Why won’t you just tell me your last name?” I looked harder at his face. Yes, there’s something so familiar about him. “Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

  “I really am just passing through,” he said, meeting my eyes with his. It was a steady gaze. “My last name is my business. And no, we haven’t met before. I’d remember if we had.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “I never forget a pr
etty face,” he said. He smiled. Or started to, anyway. It turned into a wince when it tugged at his bruise.

  I knew it was just another deflection. He really didn’t want me to find out more about him. Still, it was hard not to feel a little giddy at a handsome stranger paying me a complement.

  “Oh, please,” I said, rolling my eyes. It was a bit more exaggerated than I’d intended. Men were trouble, a fact I knew all too well.

  And this guy looked like heaps of trouble. A lone biker with a chip on his shoulder. Scratch that, not a chip, a whole damn boulder.

  He put the ice pack down and explored the roughly circular bruised area on his cheek with ginger fingertips. “Thanks for that. I’m going to be on my way.”

  He stood up, pushing the chair across the linoleum. Somewhere in the distance a police siren wailed. Like some predatory animal, his head whipped to face the noise. His whole body tensed up.

  The sound became distant, and he relaxed.

  I tried telling myself I didn’t need this sort of trouble in my life. He was a mystery I had no cause to solve.

  Letting him go is the smart thing to do, I told myself.

  Then I stood up as well. “Wait,” I said.

  If it’s the smart thing to let him go, why am I so hell-bent on keeping him around?

  He looked at me. I became aware of myself. Of the old laundry day clothes I wore. How the baggy sweater covered me up, how unflattering the whole getup was.

  There was something else, too. Something akin to how I looked at him, I imagined. That expression that said I was familiar to him, too. I could also tell that ghost of recognition bothered him deeply. Bothered and intrigued him.

  “Look, it really was no problem to help you out. But now I really should get going.”

  “Excuse me?” I said, irritation and pride flaring, “I had myself covered. You think you saved me, but you actually just caused me a whole lot more trouble.”

  His lips tightened like he didn’t know whether to be incredulous or amused. The expression set my heart pumping. “And just how do you figure that?”

  “For starters,” I said, crossing my arms again, “Bobby’s not going to forget. He’s got something to prove now.”

  I could feel his eyes on me. I kept thinking about how frumpy I looked. Of all the days this could have happened, it had to be laundry day…

  That sparked my next point. “And for seconds, all my clothes are back at the laundry. That’s if Bobby and his boys haven’t made off with them. I can’t exactly go to work dressed like this. So really, don’t go thinking you did me any sort of favor, or that I owe you anything. If anything, you owe me.”

  I wished then that we’d ducked back into the laundromat quickly, but escape had been on both our minds. When Bobby and his boys got up I imagine they would have been much warier of my mystery man.

  My whole body buzzed with energy, the words pouring out faster and faster. I took a deep, shuddering breath after I finished. Oh, Ellie, this mouth of yours is no good, I admonished myself.

  Dash considered me. One corner of his mouth ticked up almost imperceptibly. “You’re a very strange person. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Not if they know what’s good for them,” I said. I tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t. I cracked a smile. He smiled back.

  Almost as soon as the expression appeared it went away, as though he realized what he was doing and put a stop to it. As though he couldn’t and wouldn’t allow himself even a moment of happiness.

  “I’ll take you back to the laundromat if you’re worried. On my way out of this place,” he said.

  “No. If Bobby didn’t take the clothes he’ll be waiting there for me to come back. And this time I don’t think it’d go as well for us,” I said.

  He shook his head, his hair waving above his shoulders. “Then I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  This time he did turn and start walking out of my kitchen.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a selfish bastard before?” I said.

  He stopped, going stiff again. I hadn’t just struck a nerve, I’d taken a sledgehammer to one. Part of me regretted it. The rest of me didn’t.

  He forced himself to relax and turned back towards me. His shoulders filled out the door frame He looked so calm on the surface, but I could tell there was a heavy undertow of feeling beneath that stoic expression.

  “What is it you want from me?” he asked.

  Answers, I thought. Like your last name for starters. Your real one. And how we know each other. I couldn’t ask that of him though. Not yet, at least. It was neither the time nor the place.

  I crossed my arms tighter. “You were the one with the bright idea to come and rescue me. Got any other bright ones knocking around in that head? Oh, and can you make it quick? I have a shift in twenty minutes.”

  A tiny wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows for a moment and then disappeared. An equally tiny, closed-mouth smile flashed across his lips. “Actually, yes. Wait here; I’ll be right back.” He turned back again and walked towards the door.

  A sudden panic gripped my heart. “If you think I’m falling for that one…!” I said, following after him.

  He’s gonna get on that bike of his and peel out of here while I stand around in the kitchen.

  “Suit yourself,” he said.

  He opened the front door, pushing the screen out of the way. A cool breeze rushed in, tugging at my sweater.

  He did go to his bike, but he didn’t mount it. Instead he knelt by the saddlebags that flanked the rear tire. He opened one up and began rummaging through the contents.

  A car backfired down the road and he stopped, looking up. Then he relaxed again and resumed searching.

  “This should fit,” he said. He pulled a shirt out of the saddlebag and started up my porch steps again.

  We moved back to the front hall, Dash closing the door behind him. The breeze died. He held up a man’s button down shirt. A crisp white one. He shook out the folds and held it up in front of me, eyeballing the size.

  “If you tuck it in it should be fine,” he said.

  “Are you serious?”

  “I don’t know where you work or what you do, but I’ve learned that you can wear a button down pretty much anywhere. Just go put it on, before I change my mind.” He forced the shirt into my hands.

  I went upstairs to my bedroom. Although I still found it strange to think of it as my bedroom. It was the master bedroom. My dad’s old room.

  My childhood room, the one I’d grown up in, was just down the hall. It still had the horse-themed wallpaper that my dad had put up when I was little.

  Sometimes, when I came in all tired out, I found myself going to that old room.

  The master bedroom still smelled ever so slightly of the last coat of varnish my dad had applied to the hardwood floor before he passed. He’d worked pretty much right up to the end.

  I sat on the four-poster’s mattress and looked at the shirt.

  Then I lifted it up, meaning to take a closer look. I smelled it. It was clean, with a hint of some cologne or aftershave. It was a pleasant scent.

  Before I could stop myself, I wondered if this was what mystery man Dash might smell like. If I might catch a hint of that cologne if he hugged me close.

  Then he knocked on my bedroom door. I started. I hadn’t expected him to come up here with me.

  “How’s the fit?” He asked.

  “Fit?” I said. The shirt, he means the shirt! “Right, it’s… okay. Just a second!”

  In a flurry of movement, I whipped off my old laundry shirt, meanwhile wondering if I’d remembered to close the door all the way, or if I’d left it open a crack and if Dash was even now peering in at me. I pulled on the button-down, unable to take the time to relish the feel of its smoothness on my skin.

  My fingers worked up the buttons, pushing them through their holes.

  “Damn!” I said, seeing that I’d managed to misalign the one. I went through t
he motions again, this time getting it right.

  Then I pushed the ends of the shirt down into my jeans. I could feel the heat in my cheeks brought on by the sudden panic.

  “Okay,” I said, brushing some loose hairs back behind my ears in the moment before Dash pushed the door open.

  He certainly takes over a place when he’s around, doesn’t he? I thought.

  “How do I look?” I said.

  He cocked his head and took me in. More heat fluttered around in my chest, and I hoped it might stay there where he couldn’t see it.

  “Tuck it in more. You look like a pirate from a Disney movie.”

  Wordless, I turned to the tall mirror in the corner by the dresser. It was true; I hadn’t tucked the shirt in enough and the white fabric billowed around my midriff. I shoved the shirt down farther until its shoulders, which came down almost to my elbows, tightened against me.

  I looked at the digital clock on the dresser and swallowed. If I left right then I could make it to my shift and only be a few minutes late.

  “Are you going to be here when I get back?” I said.

  “I have to be,” he replied, nodding at my new shirt, “I need that back.”

  I found that I hoped that was true. Even though I also knew that him staying around just meant more trouble for the both of us.

  Even though I knew I was crazy for even suggesting he stay in the first place. Still, something inside encouraged me to trust him. Though that had me wondering if I could even trust my own judgment.

  My track record with men wasn’t exactly the best.

  I couldn’t get an exact fix on the reason why this still, small voice within said what it said.

  But then I couldn’t think about it any longer, didn’t have time to debate myself; I had to get to work.

  Chapter 5

  DASH

  I should go now, I thought while I watched Ellie back out of the driveway in her old Ranger pickup, its engine a deep rumble that vibrated the glass window in the door.

  My bike sat in the driveway, ready to go. I could be out of this town in ten minutes, tops.