A spark sizzles up my arm, sending a rush of tingles swirling through my chest. The tips of his fingers linger there, the sensation growing stronger as it keeps washing down my body.
I pull my hand away and clear my throat. “I appreciate that. But you don't control the elevator.”
“True, but who really has control of anything? Life is a series of risk.”
I rub the back of my hand, trying to erase the feeling of his touch that's still tickling my skin. “I can agree with you on that, but I still think luck is a part of life, too.”
The elevator stops and he opens the doors. “Well, at least we're agreeing on something. That's a start.”
“A start to what?” I ask.
“To whatever you want it to be.” He grins and winks, reaching out to grab my hand and pull me along. “Come on, the coffee shop is right around the corner. We can still make it there before they get hit with the lunch rush.”
We walk about a block, and my feet are aching a little bit, but not too bad. I've wanted to wear these heels for ages and never had a place to go. Heels like these have no place on the farm back home.
He pulls the door open on the coffee shop and I'm hit with the bold scent of espresso, fresh coffee, and sweet pastries. Small tables are scattered around the front dining room. There's live ivy growing up the corners of the walls and crawling across a hanging wood track on the ceiling.
The glass display cases are full of fresh baked muffins, glazed cinnamon rolls, cranberry pistachio cookies, apple tarts, and gorgeous cakes. Instantly, my stomach grumbles and my mouth waters for a coffee.
“What do you want? It's on me.”
“No, you don't have to do that.”
“I don't have to, I want to. Order whatever you want, just nothing over ten dollars.” He chuckles and smiles. “I'm kidding.”
“I figured.” I lean over and peer into the glass case. Pointing at the strawberry cheesecake turnover, I say, “I want one of those and a nitro cold brew.”
Dash orders himself an egg and cheese sandwich and a medium hot coffee. We find a table near the window and sit down to eat.
“So,” he says, blowing air across his drink, “Kentucky, huh?”
“Yeah. Why? Do people from Kentucky not come here often?”
“Hell if I know. You're the first I've ever met from there. But your accent is going to have people asking you where you're from all the time.”
“Is it that noticeable?” I grin and wipe my fingers. “I mean, I guess I do like to pronounce the Rs in my words unlike you Boston folk.”
“That's true. We like to leave them out. But you have that little twang in your voice, and I bet you say things like hey y'all.”
“And I bet you say things like caa instead of car.”
“You got me there. And we say paak instead of park, haba instead of harbor. We just don't have time for all those R's.” Dash gives me a big smirk and nods. “What did you do back home?”
“I worked on my parents’ horse farm.”
“That sounds cool.”
“Not as cool as you think. I mean, I liked it, but spending all day, everyday shoveling hay and cleaning stalls can be boring.”
“I can see that, but to be honest, I think if you do the same thing every day, no matter what you do, it becomes boring. I spend every day counting boxes and pallets and loads from trucks.”
“You should do something else, then. That's why I left and came here, to try something new.”
“Yeah, maybe. But right now, I've got to be here for Betty.”
“Really? Your sister can stop you from living life?”
“No, but that's what you do when you're family. You help. Trust me, I'm no more happy to be here than you are to have me here. But that's life. Shit comes up.”
He has a good heart.
I can see it. I can feel it. Those simple statements tell me a lot about him. Yeah, he might be a playboy. But he has morals and loves his family. That's sexier than what he looks like and how hard his body is.
But hot damn, that body. His biceps bulge as they roll under skin when he lifts his cup to his mouth. Dash sits back in the chair and stretches his arms above his head. His shirt tightens against his chest and taunts me with what I know is underneath.
“You're doing it again,” he says.
I flick my eyes up and he's staring at me with those bold clear eyes. The blue is radiant, full of dark and bright shades. I hold my breath, not sure what to say. He caught me checking him out again.
Damn it.
“I'm not doing anything. You have cheese on your shirt.” Quick thinking, Anna.