21. Dash
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DASH
"She's a beauty," Dash said, running his hand along the horse's slick, black mane.
"Yes, well, looks are most certainly deceiving in her case. She’s a devil. A real handful," Kate replied from the back of the paddock.
"I don't believe that for a minute." He continued to stroke the animal. "She looks so gentle."
“Pop will tell you: Beware the gentle-looking ones. The ones that look innocent and sweet are the ones that can hurt you."
Kate handed Dash a body brush and moved around to the other side of the mare with a curry comb.
The barn echoed with classic country tunes coming from an old boombox in Foster’s tack room.
Together, they brushed the horse in silence.
He hadn’t intended to stay an additional night, but Foster had been insistent he come back to the ranch and check out his stock of mares.
The old man was so kind and welcoming (plus, it was his birthday).
How could Dash say no? He and Foster talked nonstop during the drive home from Terrace Oak.
They shared similar interests: hunting, fishing, golf.
But his words dried up like a dusty creek bed now that he and Kate were alone.
He’d pretty much muzzled himself the moment he turned around to meet her beloved sister.
Natalie.
His Amelia.
The forces of fate at play were cosmic. No way in hell could mere mortals conjure this scenario.
He’d spent the party quietly watching her, convinced at times she might be a ghost. A hallucination.
The times their eyes had met, he’d had to look away.
The memories of her final farewell—the ice cream, the goodbye note, missing her by a few minutes—played on a loop in his mind.
Like a replay on a football stadium jumbotron, where the ref’s call didn’t go his way.
From the moment he shook Natalie’s hand, he’d quietly filed away dozens of unanswered questions, the most important being: Does she remember me?
A close second: Do I come clean with Kate or pretend like Natalie and I never happened?
What the hell is she doing with a d-bag like this Hart dude? rounded out the top three.
Yeah, he’d watched Hart Lockwood closely, noting every instance of self-promotion and grandstanding.
A skilled actor, appearing to give Natalie the spotlight when in reality he was using the event to promote himself.
Dash had dealt with his type over the years.
While the guests might have been fooled by Hart’s performance, he’d pegged the man’s insincerity right off the bat.
Hart didn’t truly care for Natalie—not the way she deserved to be cared for anyway.
And then for him to bolt at the first sign of trouble?
He didn’t even stick around long enough to tell Foster and Kate goodbye.
So, what did Hart have that he didn’t? What was it about this guy that made an Absolutely-No-Interest-In-A-Relationship Natalie decide to start dating him?
His celebrity status as a bestselling author?
No way. One-Night-Stand Natalie wasn’t shallow.
Or a gold-digger, for that matter. Natalie was …
? He waded through a sea of descriptors—the same ones he’d confirmed within minutes of meeting her at the pub.
Smart. Witty. Beautiful. But a new descriptor fell into place, one that stood above all the others: sister.
Natalie was Kate’s sister, and no amount of wishing, crying, or pleading with the universe would change that fact.
If Kate knew you were having these thoughts, she’d be crushed.
She’s crazy about you … and you know you care about her too.
Kate’s not some consolation prize.
Open your eyes, man … Kate IS the prize.
"You know a lot about horses,” he said.
"I was practically born on the back of one, so I didn’t have much choice. Not only do I ride, but I have been known to jump and shoot from horseback."
"What I wouldn’t give to see that, Annie Oakley," Dash teased.
Kate stopped brushing. “Is that a dare, sir?"
He smirked. "It might be. Of course, it’s too late now that the sun’s gone down.”
“Sunrise tomorrow then, before you fly back to Houston. We’ll saddle up and head out. Find out just who the better horseman—or horsewoman—is.”
He gave the horse a healthy pat on the neck. “Deal. I call dibs on the devil woman here. What's she called?"
“Katie," Kate said. “After yours truly.”
Dash couldn’t help but laugh. Kate tried to stare him down with a look that was all business, but she broke in seconds.
They held each other’s gaze for a moment.
She looked beautiful, dressed now in jeans and an old Vols t-shirt, her hair tucked up beneath a well-worn baseball cap.
She’d looked beautiful at the party too, in a cream-colored tailored suit, dozens of gold bangle bracelets adorning each wrist. Kate was a chameleon, adaptable to every setting and always self-assured.
So why were his thoughts still drawn to Natalie?
“Does your sister have a horse named in her honor as well?”
“No. Natalie’s an excellent rider, but she was never really a horse girl.
Not the way I was. I remember when we were kids, all our friends wanted to hang out here and run around the stables, but Natalie thought it was boring.
She wanted to live in a proper neighborhood with paved roads to ride bikes.
A place with a pool and parks. She wanted true community, even as a little kid. ”
“Makes sense that she moved back to Chicago then.”
“A country girl by birth, a city girl by choice.”
“So, how long have she and this author been dating?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
Kate continued to brush the horse. “I’m not sure. She hasn’t said much about him. Then again, most of our conversations have been about the showcase so I don’t really know what’s going on.”
You don’t know … or you're not willing to share?
Dash nodded. “She put up a brave front at the restaurant, but my guess is that she’s pretty torn up about what happened today.”
“She poured every dollar of her savings and every spare minute of her life into it. But I’m not worried about it. She’ll bounce back. She always does.”
“I’d be more than happy to sit down with her and discuss her business plan—”
“No.”
One word, but it hit hard. Her tone–sharp and definitive. Something came over her face as well; her lips pressed together as though trying to keep other words from flowing out. The sudden tightness of her jaw let Dash know he’d somehow crossed a line. He felt a prickliness on the back of his neck.
What the hell? Does she not want me to invest in her sister’s business? Isn’t that what the whole damn showcase was for?
“Sorry. That came out harsh. I apologize.” Kate walked around the horse to where he stood and took the brush from his hand.
With a much more welcoming tone, she said, “What do you say we make a pizza run? There’s a great little joint a few miles from here and they’re super-fast. Maybe pick up some beer while we’re at it? ”
“Sounds good.”
“Great. I’ll call in an order.”
Dash followed her into the tack room where Kate snagged a keyring off a hook just inside the door. She tossed it to him with a fresh smile. “Let’s see how well you drive stick.”
The pizza joint in question was about a fifteen-minute drive from the ranch, in the opposite direction of Nashville proper.
The truck’s ancient radio crackled with static.
Kate fished an old Kenny Rogers cassette tape from the glove box and popped it into the player.
Dash hummed along as he guided the truck along dark country roads while Kate focused on her phone, quiet as a church mouse.
“This truck is mint. Absolutely mint. Aside from its hideous color scheme, I love it,” he said.
“It’s my father’s third child. He loves this truck. It’s never spent a night outdoors. He locks her up in the barn every night. And yes, I know. It looks like a Whataburger on wheels, but hey, like I said, he loves his Vols.”
“Burnt orange and white would look better. I’m surprised he’s letting me drive it.”
“Oh, he doesn’t know. I’d keep that under your hat if I were you.”
So, she trusts me with her father’s most prized possession, but not to partner with her sister? Maybe it’s some sort of weird competition thing between the two of them.
Or maybe she’s keeping something under her own hat.
Does she know about me and Nat? Is she testing me … to see if I fess up?
Dash downshifted and took the upcoming curve slowly. “Now you tell me? Suddenly I feel like Cameron in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”
“Relax. It’s not like Pop records the mileage or anything.”
“A man who keeps a vintage Ford truck this immaculate knows exactly how many miles are on it, trust me.”
“Foster likes you—a lot. I’m sure he’d much rather you be behind the wheel than me. I’m known to have a bit of a lead foot. Enough to get me arrested,” Kate confessed.
Dash’s head snapped in her direction. “You got arrested for speeding? Were you trying to outrun the cops or something?"
"No. It was the summer before I went off to college. I was driving out to a friend’s lakehouse. Some Barney Fife in this tiny little town pulled me over for speeding and when he ran my license, he found I had a warrant out for my arrest."
"A warrant? For what? Art forgery?"
Kate laughed. "No, the warrant was for speeding too.
I'd gotten a ticket the year before. My father made me take a Defensive Driving course—which I did, for two whole days at the Sears department store in our local mall.
I completed the course. The paperwork was signed and mailed in. I was free and clear."
"Except?" Dash pressed.
"Except the county where I got the ticket never cleared my name from their records.
So, the warrant was never canceled. The officer asked me to step out of the car.
He handcuffed me, put me in his car, and drove me back to the station where I was photographed, fingerprinted, and locked up.
And it's a good thing, too. I looked really threatening.
Somewhere, there's a mugshot of me rocking a ponytail with a big pink bow. "
"You know something? I've never dated an ex-con before," he said.
Kate fell silent, continuing to scroll on her phone. After a minute, she said, “Guess it’s better than dating someone who's married.”
“What do you mean?”
“Son of a bitch,” she said with a nod of her head. “It all makes perfect sense.”
“What makes sense?” Dash asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you find it strange that Hart left the event without saying goodbye? Hey, turn left up here at the four-way stop.”
“Maybe. Yeah, I guess. It was a bit of a zoo though.”
“I most definitely did. And now that I’ve combed the internet, I’m glad he did.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because Hart Lockwood is married.”
Kate read the bio from Hart’s website aloud. Dash found himself nodding as he listened, shocked that Natalie would carry on with a married man. There had to be a reasonable explanation.
“Maybe he’s no longer married and just hasn’t updated his website.”
Kate held up a hand, eyes still on her screen, “Hold up, there’s more. There’s a Deadline article that dropped recently announcing that he and his wife are writing a screenplay together. There’s no way they could’ve divorced that fast—not with the small empire he’s built with his book series.”
“Is your sister the type to date a married man?”
“Natalie’s not the type to date any man—which is why this makes zero sense. She’s completely locked in on launching her business. Trust me, if the guy in London couldn’t close the deal—”
Dash’s head snapped toward Kate’s to the point of whiplash. The truck veered off the road, sending a spray of gravel from the shoulder into the air. Kate hollered his name, bracing one hand against the dashboard. He dropped an f-bomb, regained control, and continued at a much slower speed.
Dash reached over and touched her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Hey, it’s your ass on the line with Foster, not mine,” she teased.
Dash’s lips twitched with a hint of a smile. “You were saying something about a guy in London?”
“Oh, right. So, the night before Nat moved back from London, she had a one-night stand with some super-hot, rich dude—the first and only one-nighter of her life. This guy asked her to stay but she turned him down cold.”
“Because of her business?”
Kate nodded. “When I tell you she’s laser-focused, I mean she’s laser-focused. Which is what makes this whole deal with Hart so odd.”
“Maybe she decided she’s tired of being alone. Curling up next to a spreadsheet doesn't provide much warmth.”
Trust me … I’ve tried.
“Maybe. Part of me wants to confront her about it, but after everything that went down today, now is definitely not the time.”
“Well, she is a grown woman. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”
“Yes, but she’s my baby sister first.”
Your incredible baby sister … who doesn’t remember me … and who I haven’t been able to stop thinking about from the second we locked eyes at the party.
Jeezus, what a deal.
What a big, fat, hairy, fucking deal.
Dash pressed her with one last question. “Think if she hadn’t been planning to move back, she’d have given this London guy a shot?”
“Oh, one hundred percent. One thousand percent, even. She had doubts right up until she boarded the plane. I had to reassure her multiple times that she made the right choice. She let a man wreck her dreams once. No way could I stay quiet and watch it happen a second time.”
So, the person who convinced my dream woman to leave London is the woman I’m currently dating?
The dynamics of this situation were so totally absurd that Dash could do nothing but snicker quietly to himself.
The opening bars of Kenny’s greatest hit, “The Gambler”, echoed through the truck’s weak speakers.
The lyrics went beyond metaphor. Dash tapped the steering wheel, turning over a number of quiet thoughts.
Hold ‘em … or fold ‘em?
As smart as Kate is, it's just a matter of time before she puts two and two together.
And then what?
Better come up with a plan … and quick.