Page 11 of Going Down

Dash’s shoulders shrug under his green parka. He’s intent on finishing the job. I watch incredulous as he goes all the way around the vehicle counter-clockwise; starting and stopping where my feet are planted on the ice-covered gravel parking lot. When Dash removes the last of the snow from the roof, which is over my head, he gives the brush back.

“We’re all set.”

“We?” My tone is sardonic and I tilt my head to drive home the point. He’s a crazy man. “Where exactly do you thinkweare going?” His truck is a few aisles over, still covered in white.

The toes of Dash’s boots touch mine. He doesn’t crowd me, but makes me aware of his presence as he speaks past my ear.

“I thought you’d like to get a change of clothes and come over for dinner.”

“Really, Dash? You’re asking me to hook up again when you’ve hardly said ‘hello’ to me all day? I heard you ask Chip to reassign partners. I don’t want to deal with this kind of bullshit.”

I try to turn to stow the gear leaning against my car. Dash tugs at the front of my red winter coat, making me look up at him almost as if he’d tipped my chin. I’m caught by his blue eyes.

“Do you want to have this conversation out here or in private? I’m fine either way.”

“I’mgood.” I repeat his pseudo-compliment, leaving off the word “people” and crossing my arms. The sports bra and thermals I’m wearing don’t push my boobs up giving them any dramatic effect. But damn it, Dash will learn what he’s missing.

He huffs this tiny laugh under his breath and smiles the same sexy and too confident grin he shoots me when I see him teaching students at ski school.

I know now that I’ll hate that look as long as I live. It’s one thing to become someone’s used tissue and something quite different for them to infer you’re not skilled enough at what you do. I’m mostly pissed about the latter. Mostly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to work with you—”

“OOH.” I interrupt. Sarcasm flows off me in waves. “Because telling Chip you wanted someone else as a partner is code for ‘put us together’.”

“Kat, I haven’t seen Sidney naked.”

“Score one for you then. Is it your goal to get every female who works at the resort in the buff? Do you keep weird snapshots of us? Ratings? Is there a logbook I should know about with reviews like, ‘Kat gives four-star head, but hey that other chick has a five-star rack’.”

He laughs at me.

At me.

Then Dash moves a white braid behind my ear. Adjusting my ski cap, he whispers so no one else can hear. “If there was a book—and I’m not saying there is one—the note under your picture would say, ‘Kat makes me see stars when she sucks me off. Her tits are a perfect ten and I’m dying to see her spread out under me again’. However, I’m not willing to let all of those inappropriate thoughts throw me off when someone’s life is at stake. I take my job seriously. How bad I want to carry you back to my place right now and peel those layers off of you is unprofessional. So, if push comes to shove, I’ll partner with you, Kat. But unless it’s necessary, what you and I have going on outside of work hours stays off the clock.”

I blink and my brow creases.

“Do you not understand?” he asks.

I shake my head.No, I don’t.Because until this point, I hadn’t given Dash credit for the blood flowing to his brain.“Yes, I do.”

“Get in the car then, Kat. I’ve been doing the right thing all day waiting to discuss this with you. I’m done talking.”

“I don’t get a say in any of it?” He’s unilaterally taking my choices away by deciding when we pair up.

“You do. Tell me to take a hike. I leave you alone and go home to rub one out instead. But sending me away won’t make me change my mind about keeping things professional.”

“You could’ve said something to me before our shifts.”

“Yeah, well. It wasn’t until you left my place that it dawned on me how much I wanted to see you the rest of today. By then it was too late.”

“Are you saying you’re so obsessed with me it renders you incapable of doing your job? That’s creepy.” It’s also completely messed up that I want it to be true.

I look up at Dash. He ducks his face to mine. My toes curl in my boots when he kisses me.

“Thank fuck we’re off the clock because I just might be.” His thumb wipes across my lower lip and I have to stop myself from sucking it into my mouth.

My subconscious nags at me. It keeps me critical of how unusual Dash is, chipping away what’s right about him to find his flaws. Yet, Dash’s matter-of-factness gets to me each time, and he uses his openness as a tool to force me to see pieces of me with a frankness I don’t like. Parts that judged him and scrutinize my negative reactions to him. In the past, I’d have accepted his apology and stopped being bitchy, instead going with the ease of how much I enjoy being with him.

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