Page 77 of The One Night Dash
Those blue eyes spark mischief and heat all at once, like he’s fully aware I’ve just cataloged every line of him. His smirk is of the lazy, sexy variety.
“Morning, Pembrooke,” he drawls, low enough that only I can hear. “Nice … hat.”
Heat rushes to my face. I resist the urge to rip the cornucopia off my head and hurl it into the nearest trash can.
“What …? What are you doing here?” I hiss, eyes wide.
He shrugs, slipping in beside me like he belongs. “Figured it’d be a fun way to meet my girlfriend’s family. Then I’ll head back to the city.”
“Girlfriend?” I whisper-shriek.
“I mean, we’re a couple, but if you think it’s too soon,” he shrugs, “noted.”
Before I can argue, the horn blasts and the crowd lurches forward. Caleb and Ethan shoot ahead. Mom and Rick jog together, steady and sure. And me? I start slow, already feeling my lungs revolt.
Dash jogs easily at my side. “You got this. Power through. Run with your heart.”
I shoot him a glare. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Fine, fine.” He adjusts. “Pretend there’s free coffee at the finish line.”
“That’s better,” I mutter.
“Okay, new one—pretend a latte’s chasing you.”
I shoot him a look. “Why would a latte chase me?”
“Because it’s desperate to be chosen over tea.”
I snort, almost trip, and glare at him again. “Weak.”
“All right, all right. Pretend every step you take is earning you bookstore credit.”
That makes me laugh, even as my lungs burn. “You mean, I’d basically own the place by the finish line?”
“Exactly. I’ll even shelve the books for you as a prize.”
I narrow my eyes. “You wouldn’t survive a shift at Pembrooke.”
He clutches his chest in mock injury. “Try me. I’m great with my hands.”
“Stop.” I press my lips together to smother a smile. “That’s not motivational; that’s harassment.”
“Harassment?” He grins. “Sweets, that was me holding back.”
I groan. “You’re unbearable.”
“Unbearably …charming. Admit it.”
“Unbearably sarcastic,” I correct.
Dash leans closer, voice dropping so only I hear it. “Then maybe I’ll save my breath and just whisper encouragements. Like … every time you think you can’t go farther, picture me right behind you, tongue at the ready.”
My cheeks flame hotter than the run. “Stop …”
Eyes gleaming, he says, “No promises.”
“There are too many people,” I pant.
