What If I Never

by Lisa Renee Jones

  I glance at Dash. “Because of Tyler?”

  “They were involved. It was a toxic relationship very few people know about which is between us.”

  “Of course,” I say, thinking of the necklace. It could have come from Tyler, but somehow that just doesn’t feel right. Why would Tyler of all people send it to the office where his personal life could become public? He reads more private than that to me.

  “I actually thought it ended long before she left,” Dash adds, before I can ask him to define toxic, “but hell if I know,” he continues. “Tyler and I haven’t talked much since I moved my business to Bella.”

  “Tyler was your agent?” I ask.

  “And attorney,” he confirms. “Most of the attorneys there at Hawk Legal work as agents.”

  “I joined the firm a few years ago, right about the time Dash started writing,” Bella explains. “I hooked him up with Tyler. I was new and green and his sister. We all thought it would be weird if I represented him. Turns out, it works. I can beat him into submission much easier than anyone else,” she teases. Her cellphone buzzes with a text where it sits on the island. She grabs it, reads a message, and types. “Sorry. I have a client playing a gig at Jason Aldean’s place tonight and a record label is scouting him. He’s a nervous wreck.”

  “Oh wow,” I say, sipping my coffee. “That’s exciting. And I love Jason Aldean. I can’t believe I’ve been in New York City so long I’ve never even been to his bar. It’s on Broadway, right?”

  “Smack in the middle of the action,” she confirms. “You should come tonight.” She points at Dash. “He has to stay here and write, but you can come with me.”

  “I’m not turning the book in early, Bella,” Dash says. “And if Allie wants to go, I’ll take her.”

  I think his sister just asked me out on a second date, and I fear Dash has been cornered. I glance over at him. “You need to work and so do I.”

  “I’m going to write this afternoon while you read the first half of the book. We don’t have to be at the bar until around ten.”

  Bella’s cellphone buzzes with a message again and she grabs it, reads the text, and says, “Okay I have to take him a waffle and calm his crazy talented ass down.” She stands up. “And you two can figure out tonight. I’ll leave VIP passes at the door.” She hurries around the kitchen, plates an extra waffle, and then motions to the kitchen. “You know how this works, big brother. I cook. You clean up.” She waves at me. “See you tonight, Allie.” She winks, just like Dash winks, and heads for the door.

  Dash waits for her to exit, and then turns us in our rotating stools to face each other. “Is it a date?”

  A date.

  I draw in a breath with the certainty that Dash chose his wording with purpose and I’m not sure what to think about any of this. “What happened to no relationship, Dash?”

  “Don’t overthink.”

  “You spent an hour thinking about why I shouldn’t be here this morning.”

  “And I ended up here, asking you to stay again tonight.”

  My eyes go wide. “I thought we were just going to the bar?”

  “It’ll be late when we leave the bar. We might as well just come back here.”

  My heart is racing. This is not a good idea, I know this, and I still say, “I have to go by my place and get some things.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  My father tries to call me while Dash and I are hunting for my thigh highs I don’t even remember taking off. Did we take them off? And why? Why was that necessary? I grab my phone, glance at the caller ID, and hit decline. Dash, who is presently on the floor digging under the couch arches a brow. “Father?”

  “Yep. Any luck?”

  He pushes to his feet. “No,” he says. “Where the hell are they?”

  “I give up. They’re gone and my coat is at Tyler’s and it’s freezing outside, per my phone which likes to deliver bad news.”

  Obliviously reading my comment he says, “If you talk to him, it’s over. If you don’t, he may keep calling.”

  “He has a short attention span. He’ll be gone soon.” Dash’s hands are on his hips and he’s just looking at me.

  “If your father called, would you talk to him?” I challenge.

  “He wouldn’t call,” he says and that ends that topic. “I’ll get you one of my coats.” He walks away and I sigh. We’re both a mess, two troubled souls, who most likely will cut each other until we emotionally bleed. Or maybe we’ll just have sex. I don’t know what is in our future.

  Dash returns and helps me put on his jacket, and with it swallowing me whole, we head downstairs. Half an hour later, we arrive at my new temporary home, in his fancy sports car. “I completely forgot that my car is broken,” I say as Dash pulls into the garage next to my college ride. “It’s ancient. I don’t know why my mother kept it and I don’t want to buy a car for a few months.”

  “I’ll look at it,” he promises, after being rather quiet on the short ride over, which doesn’t read as regret over the invitation. I’m not sure what’s on his mind. Maybe his book?

  “Are you good with cars?”

  “My stepfather is a NASCAR mechanic so he taught me a few things.”

  “NASCAR? My gosh, you live in a family of exceptionalism.”

  “Look in the mirror, cupcake. So do you.”

  “My father doesn’t count. My mother’s a nurse. My stepfather’s a fireman chief.”

  “Heroes,” he says.

  “Yes,” I say, pride filling me, but I’ve got Dash talking and I want to know more. “How did your mom and stepdad meet?

  “My mother sponsored a car. She loved NASCAR.”

  “Do you?”

  “I loved going with her. The sport itself, not so much now.”

  In other words, it hurts. I touch his face and he catches my hand and kisses it, giving me a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, before opening his door to exit. I’m out of mine before he can help me and at the door, punching in the code. Dash opens the door and I enter, setting my purse on the counter. “I’ll grab my stuff,” I say. “There’s wine and diet soda in the fridge. The remote is on the coffee table. Are you sure you’re okay with me showering? I’m not as fast as you are at getting ready, I’m sure.”

  “It’s fine,” he says. “I brought my laptop.” He pats the briefcase at his hip.

  “Good. You can get your words in.” Unsure why I do it, I close the space between us, push to my toes, and kiss him. “Read it. Start at the beginning.” With that advice, I leave him there.

  I hurry into the bedroom, shower quickly and while my hair is partially drying, fill an overnight bag, and end up in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. My cheeks have color, my lips are swollen. I look like a woman who’s been fucked and fucked well. I’m not sure I’ve been that woman until now.

  And I’m not sure what I’m doing with Dash, but I remind myself that he has the luxury of knowing I’m going back to New York. I can’t read anything into my overnight stay. We are good in bed together. Why wouldn’t two adults enjoy each other? It doesn’t mean we have to get married. With that thought, I shake myself, and finish packing, then quickly dry my hair and do my makeup, throwing on leggings and a sweater.

  I find Dash standing in the living room, staring at the fireplace, the television above is not even on.

  “Dash?”

  He rotates and faces me. “This is at least a two-million-dollar home, Allie. You know that, right?”

  I set my bag on the kitchen island. “I kind of guessed that.”

  “And you think he gave you this, why?”

  “HR told me it was for insurance purposes. He has to have someone in it. There’s a wine cellar and vault downstairs. Allison was—”

  “Fucking him, Allie. She was fucking him.”

  I swallow hard with the inference that there is something in my future with Tyler. And he’s wrong. “There’s nothing between me and Tyler. Nothing.”

  He closes
the space between me and him and catches my arms.

  He’s jealous. Dash is jealous and I’m back to where I am with a lot of things with Dash. I don’t even know what to do with that information.

  “He’s my boss. Nothing more, I swear. And my landlord. That’s all, Dash.”

  He drags me closer. “And if he wants to fuck you?”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “And if he wants to fuck you? And before you answer, don’t be naive. You’re smarter than that.”

  “I don’t want Tyler, Dash. Just you.”

  His fingers tangle in my hair and he stares down at me. “We’re together until we decide otherwise.”

  I know where this is headed, I know how this ends, and it’s not good for me, but I have no ability to deny this man. He’s jealous and once again, as if feeling this once wasn’t enough, as proof of how fucked up I truly am, I like it.

  “Yes,” I whisper, and his mouth is on my mouth, his hands on my body, and everything about him right now is pure possession. We’re urgent with each other, tearing at each other’s clothes. His sweater lands on the floor and so does mine, followed by my bra. In a matter of what seems like seconds, I’m naked and sitting on the kitchen island and Dash is buried inside me, stretching me, pumping inside me. My hands catch my weight on the island, my breasts naked between us, bouncing with every thrust and bump—his eyes all over me. It’s hard, passionate, intense, and I tumble into bliss all too quickly.

  Dash groans with my orgasm, his gorgeous face contorted in pleasure, his head tilted back in an animalistic display of pure masculine pleasure as he quakes to release. He pants out a breath and leans into me, and now his hands are on the island, holding his weight. He kisses me. “God, woman. And that’s all I have to say right now. Let’s get out of here. Tell me you’re ready.”

  “I am,” I say, because the truth is, I am always ready when it comes to Dash.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  It’s somehow two in the afternoon when we arrive back at Dash’s place, both of us are still stuffed from breakfast. We end up cleaning the kitchen together and I make a pot of coffee. It’s almost three when we settle onto his living room floor, both with our MacBooks open, with the fireplace going and the pot of coffee I made has filled our cups. It’s almost as if we’re together, and I have to remind myself that we just said we are, in fact, just that.

  I’ve spent an hour on my work, watching Dash struggle with words, when his cellphone rings where it rests on the table.

  “Bella,” Dash says, answering the call. He listens a moment and replies with, “Next Saturday then. Yeah. No. Don’t go there right now. Be my agent. Make this work.” She says something else to him I can’t hear and they disconnect. “There was a mix-up in the booking. It’s all next weekend, not this weekend but we can still go to Aldean’s.”

  “No, we can’t,” I say. “You need to get a grip on this book, Dash. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll read it from the beginning, if you read it from the beginning.”

  “That’s going to take us both hours.”

  “Okay.”

  He grimaces. “You’re so fucking stubborn.”

  “Me? You’re stubborn. You want help. You have it.”

  “All right. I’ll read it, if you’ll read it. How do you feel about pizza?”

  “Like I need to workout. I’m eating like shit.”

  “Done. I have a full gym. We’ll workout later.” He grabs his phone. “What kind of pizza?”

  “Feta if they have it and pineapple.”

  “That’s weird,” he says.

  “It’s very good.”

  “We’ll see. I’ll be testing it.”

  “And I’ll be reading. Send me the file. I’ll text you my email.”

  He dials the pizza joint, and the minute my email hits his instant messenger, he shoots me the file. I grab both our coffee cups, refill them, and settle in for my new Ghost Assassin read. Thirty minutes later our cups are empty and I’m already into what looks to be an amazing read when the pizza arrives. Dash greets the pizza delivery person and grabs us both bottles of water.

  “Okay, it’s pretty decent,” Dash says, after inhaling a slice of my feta and pineapple.

  “Told ya,” I say. “Now shhh. I’m reading a good book right now.”

  “Don’t tell me it’s good if it sucks.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Dash. It started out with a bang. I like it. I feel spoiled getting this early look. Nothing is wrong so far. Nothing.”

  He doesn’t look convinced, but we finish off our pizza and this time he refills our coffee cups. About an hour later, I laugh at a scene that is truly brilliant. Dash’s gaze rockets to mine. “You’re really gifted at taking a scene that is so damn brutal and adding humor to make it palpable, Dash.” I want to ask him if his father has read his books, or attended his movie premieres, but I respect the topic and even understand it. When he wants to talk about it, if he ever wants to talk about what happened with his father, he will.

  It’s hours later, and the sun has set, the city alive with multicolored lights just outside the window, when I finish the book. I close my MacBook and Dash does the same.

  “Tell me what you think. Is anything wrong?”

  “You tell me what you think.”

  “No,” I insist. “You tell me.”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d do differently. I tried to find what was bothering me and now I’m not sure it’s bothering me at all.”

  “Because it’s really good. I can’t wait to find out what happens next. Can you please write it quickly?”

  He studies me a long beat that turns into two before he kisses me hard and fast. “I need to write. Are you okay with that?”

  “Of course I am. I have a ton of work to do. Write the book.”

  He smiles and then turns back to his MacBook and I watch a master go to work.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Our work time is productive. I organize all the donations and the appraisals, while Dash bangs out so many words, he now feels he might actually be able to make an early deadline, though he doesn’t plan to tell that to Bella.

  “She can be surprised,” he tells me, calling it “our secret.”

  I fall asleep with him holding me from behind and those words in my head “our secret.” I decide I like the idea of us sharing a secret together rather than keeping secrets from each other. And we both have secrets. Maybe too many for our own good.

  I wake to a buzzing sound, a blast of sunlight that tries to burn out my eyeballs. The buzzing sound is my cellphone and I grab it to find my mother’s number on caller ID. I jolt to a sitting position, my heart pounding with irrational fear. Dash is now sitting up next to me and I drag the sheet up my body even as I answer the call. “Mom? Are you okay?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. I thought we were having brunch today? It’s already ten.”

  “You said next Sunday.”

  “This is next Sunday.”

  “No. You said a week from Saturday you were home.”

  “Did I? Well, I’m home, honey,” she singsongs. “Are you coming over?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. I’m going to shower now. I’ll be there soon.” I disconnect and glance at Dash. “I was supposed to be at my mom’s for brunch.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “And I have no car.”

  “I’ll take you,” he says easily. “No problem. Don’t fret.”

  I study him a moment. “I—Dash I don’t mean to make this awkward, but—”

  He frowns. “You don’t want me to take you?”

  “No,” I say quickly, daring to add, “just the opposite. My mom and stepdad are huge fans of your books and the movies. Would you—” I hesitate, afraid of how he’ll read this. We said, no forever, which usually means no family. A rule we’ve already broken with his sister so maybe—

  He arches a brow. “Would I what?”

  “You want to come? I mean it’s waffles again, but really good waffles,” I say,
quickly adding, “and we don’t have to tell my mom and stepdad we’re involved. I can say you’re a friend I met through my job. My mom knows I want to do things for her right now.”

  He laughs. “So you did me?”

  I poke his naked chest. “That was a horrible joke.”

  “I am a friend from your job, just a very good friend who happens to know what sounds you make when you orgasm.” Despite all we’ve done together, my cheeks heat. He pushes me down on the bed and leans over me. “What are you, and they, going to say when I call you cupcake?”

  “They’ll know what’s going on.”

  “Alright then,” he says. “Let’s go shower. Cupcake.” He winks and pushes off of me, and by the time I’m sitting, he’s walking toward the bathroom, naked. He’s so very perfectly naked and his ass is so very perfectly—well perfect. I have no other words. As for the brunch, I’m not sure what I just got myself into, but I decide I’ll try to figure it out in the shower—with Dash.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  It’s eleven-fifteen when Dash and I arrive at my mother’s place. “Pull in at the side of the house so she can’t see your car,” I say. “It kind of stands out and I want to surprise her inside, not out.”

  He obliges and parks outside the garage. “What else?” he says.

  “I’m sorry in advance. They’re going to act like crazy ass fans, Dash.”

  “I love my fans,” he says. “So let’s go do this.” He exits the car, and I do the same, meeting up with him at the front bumper. Me in black jeans and an olive-colored sweater while Dash looks incredibly delicious, personifying my own personal idea of “the hot, famous author” look in black jeans and a black turtleneck sweater.

  We head for the back entrance of the upper-middle-class home, my mother and stepfather worked hard to own, when my mother could have easily gotten rich off my father. I’m proud that she didn’t. I’m proud of who she is and I can only aspire to live my life as honestly as she has. And as for my stepfather, Barry is an honorable man. A good man. Nothing like my father and apparently Dash’s father, as well.