Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(42)

“It’s a very nice cave,” Dash said. “And you’re hiding for some reason. Open up and let me in or I’ll blow the house down.”

“First it’s a cave, now it’s a house . . . is it made of hay, sticks, or bricks?” She couldn’t resist smiling at him, though. He was easy to talk to and he was . . . comfortable.

Wonderful thing to say about the guy. She liked going out with him because he was comfortable. He was gorgeous, he knew how to kiss, and he made her feel comfortable.

Making a face, she pushed the button that unlocked her gates. “Come on in. I’ll unlock the front door, so let yourself inside. I need to clean up a little.”

“Sure thing, beautiful.”

The gates would swing closed once he was past the sensors so without waiting, she carried her ginger ale off with her and headed up the stairs. She had soaked in a hot bath last night—she had planned on a taking another one, but that wasn’t going to happen until Dash left.

She heard him calling up to her just as she pulled the brush through her hair one last time. “I’m coming. Impatient jerk,” she said, shaking her head.

He laughed. “You love me.”

Snorting, she started down the stairs. Her belly did a slow flip, reminding her of the pills she’d taken.

The pills.

Shit.

Ignoring what the rush did to her uneasy stomach, she all but flew down the steps. Seeing Dash leaning against the counter, she gave him a wide smile and slowed to a casual walk. “So, how are you? Ready to get to work?”

Moving past him, she shot a furtive look to the table and saw the two bottles there.

In response to her nerves, her stomach did a rude flip-flop and she had to bite her inner lip to keep the nausea under check.

“Not really. They sure as hell are rushing this, but I’ll manage. How are you doing?” He came up behind her and caught her in a hug, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You’ve been avoiding everybody, hiding out like some criminal. Have you been on the run, Marin? Going deep underground or something? Nobody has seen hide nor hair of you the past few days.”

“Ha, ha.” She turned her head and pressed a casual kiss to his cheek before tugging away from him.

It was probably the kiss that ruined things.

While they’d been out on a couple of dates and while she enjoyed his company, Dash had been the one to make every move.

Every single one of them.

And he paid just a little too much attention when she casually pulled away from him and headed over to the table, just as casually picking up the bottles and dumping them in a drawer. After she’d done that, she picked up her bowl and took a bite, then grimaced because the soup had gotten cold. She put it into the microwave to reheat and when she turned, she saw Dash.

He was holding a bottle of her pills—the most incriminating one.

“Darling . . .” He slid his gaze from the pills to her face. “Well, I know one thing. It can’t be mine. I’m still trying to get to second base with you.”

***

Sebastien saw the car parked in front of Marin’s house and wanted to bite something.

Or punch something.

Naturally the first thing that came to mind was the owner of the car.

Dash would have made an excellent target, except for the fact that he hadn’t really done anything wrong.

Jaw clenched, Sebastien stared down at the low-slung vintage Ferrari. Sebastien wasn’t as into cars as some, but he remembered hearing somewhere that Dash’s favorite toy was a 1961 Spyder. It was sleek, sexy, and painted a dark blue that was just a few shades away from Marin’s eyes.

Fuck.

Everything reminded him of her.

Had Dash taken her cruising up the coast in this? The top down, her hair whipping around behind her.

He’d just go and buy his own convertible if she liked them that much.

“Won’t matter, dumb-ass. She ain’t into you. The cars aren’t the issue.” Feeling like a moron, he rubbed his hands up and down his face before tipping his head back to stare at the sky. He pulled in a couple of deep breaths, blew them out.

Once he had his head relatively clear, he moved away from the car and started toward the house.

He was only a few feet from the door when he heard the raised voices—raised, follow by a shout edged with something that sounded like panic.

***

Head spinning, Marin gripped Dash’s arm while another spasm of nausea gripped her.

She shuddered and got back over the toilet just in time.

She thought she might have just puked up everything she’d eaten—not just today, or even this week. Things she’d eaten six months ago might have just come pouring out of her.

“It’s okay, Marin,” Dash murmured, his voice steady and calm. “Just breathe . . . It will pass.”

She wanted to punch him.

Her entire face felt hot when she was finally able to ease back down and she collapsed against him, staring dully at the toilet.

“This is your fault, you know.”

“I think we’ve established it can’t be,” he said easily. “We haven’t gotten that far in our relationship. Although I’m happy to move things along . . . once you’re feeling better.”

She couldn’t even laugh. “You’re such a hound, Dash.”