“Offer Riptide a commission on anything they validate and sell.” With that, he turns and starts walking. I draw in a breath and call after him.
“Tyler.”
He halts and turns to face me. “Yes, Ms. Wright?”
“Tell her you love her, leave it on her machine, text her, but mean it. Go in all the way. If you do that and she’s okay, she’ll come back for you.”
He inhales sharply and then says nothing. He just turns and starts walking.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I pull up to the bookstore and I’m out of the car as soon as the engine is idling. Dash is joining me in a quick flash and I hand him the keys. “You don’t want to drive me home, cupcake?”
“Tyler had to unlock the car for me, so no. When I can’t even open the doors, I should not be trusted behind the wheel.”
He laughs a low, sexy laugh and helps me into my side of the car, kissing me soundly on the lips before heading around to the driver’s side. “Sorry, baby,” he says, joining me. “The key glitches. I should have given you a few tips, but you seemed to have the swing of things.”
“Well, how could you know I can’t operate a basic door? On the positive side, I told him about New York.”
His eyes light with mischief. “Told him?”
“Actually, yes. I did.”
That evening, Dash and I order our Chinese food, and eat and work upstairs in the bedroom sitting area, while the sun sets. It’s a good night that neither one of us seems eager to spoil with outside influences. We don’t talk about Tyler. We don’t talk about Allison. We keep things about us. When it’s finally time to throw in the towel on work, Dash takes our leftovers downstairs. I grab my shoes from the floor and walk to the closet to figure out what to wear tomorrow since I haven’t taken anything to the cleaners, only to find shopping bags all over the floor of my closet. I drop my shoes and kneel down, peeking inside a bag that holds a pair of Chanel dress pants. The next bag is lingerie. My eyes catch on the garment bags hanging next to my clothes. I stand up and go to them, unzipping one of them to find a gorgeous pink Chanel dress.
“I looked at your labels and sizes,” Dash says from the doorway. “I tried to get as much right as I could.”
I whirl around to face him. “What is this, Dash?”
“It’s a big closet. I wanted to fill it for you, but you can take anything you don’t want back.”
I fight the triggers that want to consume me. My father bought me gifts. Brandon bought me gifts. They had a plan and it was to own me, in a way no one could believe possible, actually. A horrible, embarrassing plan. It’s why I don’t own those gifts now. Just the bag I kept to remind me of exactly who, and what, my father is.
“I don’t claim to be an expert shopper, at all,” Dash adds. “In fact, I’ve never shopped for anyone but my sister.”
I blink him into view. “You did this yourself? You actually went and shopped for me?”
“Yes. Well, the salespeople helped me, but none of us know your taste. But I also knew you wouldn’t let me take you shopping either. So, take anything you don’t like back, baby.”
I let the garment bag in my hand slide away and swallow hard, tears welling in my eyes. “Hey, hey, hey,” Dash says, stepping over bags to join me, cupping my face and stroking my cheek. “What just happened? I was trying to make you happy, not sad.”
“I was about to turn all of this down, but then you said you shopped for me. You did this.”
“Why would you turn down the gifts, Allie?” he asks softly.
“I told you I’m not about the money, Dash. And I make my own money. You don’t have to support me.”
“Is that how you look at this?” His hands settle on my shoulders. “Me supporting you? That’s not what this is. I don’t buy gifts for women, Allie. Never. It’s not my thing. But hell, I take that back. I am taking care of you. I want you to have nice things. What is wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I appreciate what you did. The idea of you shopping for me is honestly swoon-worthy, Dash. But from now on, after this, I want you, just you, not what you can buy me. Don’t you want to know that I’m here for you?”
“I already know you’re here for me, Allie. You going to tell me what this is all about? Is it about your father?”
“He has a history of fancy gifts and broken promises.” I grab his waist. “I know that’s not you. I just want us to be real.”