stay focused when you’re out in the field or you can wind up hurt, or worse.”
“True.” I sighed.
I wished Justin kept calm under pressure, but it wasn’t in his nature. Anytime the situation got a little intense, he’d resort to act first think later, and usually that led to me getting hurt—at least emotionally. My belongings were the only things he’d actually physically harmed, and himself. I pushed the thought away.
Dash pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. “Ten thirty. You want to go get some breakfast-lunch?”
“You mean brunch?”
He patted Hail’s head before standing. “No. I meant breakfast-lunch. Men don’t eat brunch.” He smirked.
A thrill ran through my center, but it quickly fizzled. Justin was clear on where he stood when it came to me going out with anyone other than him. I gazed at Dash, a hollow feeling in my stomach—I’d regret it forever if I didn’t get to know him better. I thought about how angry Justin would be if he found out, but I reminded myself he hung out with his friends all the time. This was no different than that.
“Sure,” I finally said. “You want to call Lindsay? We could pick her up on the way.” I rummaged through my closet for some jeans.
Dash took a step closer as I turned around with my favorite pair in my hand.
“You know it’s all right to be yourself around me. I think it’s safe to say we’re friends. And my girlfriend doesn’t have to be there in order for it to be “acceptable” to hang out with you. I’m not sure if he makes you feel that way, but that isn’t how I operate, okay?”
The sincerity in his green eyes nailed me to the floor.
“All right,” I whispered and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Sorr—”
“ Don’t say sorry,” Dash cut me off. He shook his head. “You’d think you never had a real friend before.” He chuckled on his way out of my bedroom.
I shut the door behind him to change but didn’t laugh. He was right.
“These are incredible,” I said after I swallowed another bite of the best Belgian waffles I’d ever eaten. “How do you know all the best places?”
Dash cocked an eyebrow from where he sat across the table. “I’m on the road a ton during storm season, and most of our food comes out of a paper bag. So when I’m home, I only eat where it is exceptionally above par.” He took a drink of his iced tea before tackling a massive panini on his plate.
The quaint restaurant had a classic southern appeal with sleek wooden furniture and plenty of painted longhorn skulls hanging from the walls. The place’s spread for brunch was stacked with classics from buttermilk biscuits and gravy to chicken fried steak. There were small stations next to the buffet—one cranked out fresh waffles or pancakes, and the other had the made-to-order panini press.
“Are you ready for this season?” I asked, drowning a piece of waffle in the restaurant’s special pecan syrup.
“Absolutely. Nothing like the start of it . . . so many possibilities.” His green eyes lit up like he could see an endless line of tornadoes begging for capture.
“How does Lindsay take you being away?” I asked, considering the freedom in having a valid excuse for a two-month break.
Dash shrugged. “We only had just gotten together a couple months before last year’s season, so she’s only been through one with me. And she handled it all right, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Well, she called . . . a lot. And she couldn’t really grasp that if we came back for a weekend we might leave again at a moment’s notice. One time we decided to track a supercell in Plano, Texas, and she lost her shit over it. Wanted me to take her to a foreign film festival instead. When I got back, she gave me the silent treatment for three days.”
“I’d relish a silent treatment.” I took a drink of orange juice.
“You’re telling me the way he talked to you earlier today is . . . normal?”
“Actually,
“True.” I sighed.
I wished Justin kept calm under pressure, but it wasn’t in his nature. Anytime the situation got a little intense, he’d resort to act first think later, and usually that led to me getting hurt—at least emotionally. My belongings were the only things he’d actually physically harmed, and himself. I pushed the thought away.
Dash pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. “Ten thirty. You want to go get some breakfast-lunch?”
“You mean brunch?”
He patted Hail’s head before standing. “No. I meant breakfast-lunch. Men don’t eat brunch.” He smirked.
A thrill ran through my center, but it quickly fizzled. Justin was clear on where he stood when it came to me going out with anyone other than him. I gazed at Dash, a hollow feeling in my stomach—I’d regret it forever if I didn’t get to know him better. I thought about how angry Justin would be if he found out, but I reminded myself he hung out with his friends all the time. This was no different than that.
“Sure,” I finally said. “You want to call Lindsay? We could pick her up on the way.” I rummaged through my closet for some jeans.
Dash took a step closer as I turned around with my favorite pair in my hand.
“You know it’s all right to be yourself around me. I think it’s safe to say we’re friends. And my girlfriend doesn’t have to be there in order for it to be “acceptable” to hang out with you. I’m not sure if he makes you feel that way, but that isn’t how I operate, okay?”
The sincerity in his green eyes nailed me to the floor.
“All right,” I whispered and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Sorr—”
“ Don’t say sorry,” Dash cut me off. He shook his head. “You’d think you never had a real friend before.” He chuckled on his way out of my bedroom.
I shut the door behind him to change but didn’t laugh. He was right.
“These are incredible,” I said after I swallowed another bite of the best Belgian waffles I’d ever eaten. “How do you know all the best places?”
Dash cocked an eyebrow from where he sat across the table. “I’m on the road a ton during storm season, and most of our food comes out of a paper bag. So when I’m home, I only eat where it is exceptionally above par.” He took a drink of his iced tea before tackling a massive panini on his plate.
The quaint restaurant had a classic southern appeal with sleek wooden furniture and plenty of painted longhorn skulls hanging from the walls. The place’s spread for brunch was stacked with classics from buttermilk biscuits and gravy to chicken fried steak. There were small stations next to the buffet—one cranked out fresh waffles or pancakes, and the other had the made-to-order panini press.
“Are you ready for this season?” I asked, drowning a piece of waffle in the restaurant’s special pecan syrup.
“Absolutely. Nothing like the start of it . . . so many possibilities.” His green eyes lit up like he could see an endless line of tornadoes begging for capture.
“How does Lindsay take you being away?” I asked, considering the freedom in having a valid excuse for a two-month break.
Dash shrugged. “We only had just gotten together a couple months before last year’s season, so she’s only been through one with me. And she handled it all right, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Well, she called . . . a lot. And she couldn’t really grasp that if we came back for a weekend we might leave again at a moment’s notice. One time we decided to track a supercell in Plano, Texas, and she lost her shit over it. Wanted me to take her to a foreign film festival instead. When I got back, she gave me the silent treatment for three days.”
“I’d relish a silent treatment.” I took a drink of orange juice.
“You’re telling me the way he talked to you earlier today is . . . normal?”
“Actually,
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