Page 23 of Chasing Wild Heart

Without waiting for a reply, I turn to stomp away, but stop abruptly when I hear a desperate, "I like you!"

I don't move, keeping my back to him, and wait for him to continue.

"The truth is, I like you. More than I should- wait. I don't even know what the hell that even means," he growls in frustration and impatience.

My teeth dig into my lower lip to keep myself from giggling at his awkward apology. But part of me wonders often did Dash need to apologize to someone? My guess would be rarely based on his fumbling words alone.

"God, I'm an idiot."

"No argument here," I mutter, imagining him probably frowning and running his fingers through his hair.

"I know I can be a self-centered bastard, but I didn't realize just how terrible I am. Juni, I'm every therapist's dream patient. I have so many issues I don't even know where to begin. But I need- no, I want to start somewhere. I want to be a better person. I want to be happy."

My head tilts at his last admission, believing there's something more to explore at a later time.

"Being with you made me ridiculously happy," he admits nervously. "I didn't want to lose that. I don't know how much you heard when I was talking to my mom, but she unintentionally leads me and my sisters to kinda sabotageanything good in our lives. Again, something I should probably talk about with a therapist."

I nod silently, not knowing how or if I should reply.

"You're good for me," Dash continues. "And I felt the weird honeymoon phase of happiness slip during my conversation with my mom. So, I said a whole bunch of shit out of desperation, hoping to hang on to that feeling longer."

Aw, he liked the protective happiness bubble, too.

I hear him take a deep breath and lightly kick the short grass with his foot.

"I like you, Juniper Mitchell," he states shyly. "This is me manning up, or trying to be a mature adult. I want to take you on a proper date. Fuck me, did I just sayproper date? I sound so lame."

I can't help the snort escaping between my lips. He might sound lame, but his words are something I want to hear. And if I'm being honest, I want the proper date.

"Sorry," I mutter, realizing the small sound probably seems rude.

"No, it's okay," he assures me with a dry chuckle. "I deserve a lot more than you laughing at my expense."

"Dash." I start to face him, hating the underlying sadness in his voice, but the tentative placement of his hand on my shoulder stops me.

"It's okay, Juni. I just wanted to let you know where I'm at," he explains, his fingers gently squeezing before letting go.

"Thank you." Those two words sound so lame after his honest confession. I want to say more, but now isn't the time. Not when I need to focus on the race.

Another awkward moment passes before I hear his footsteps retreat reluctantly. As I welcome the chill air into my lungs, I feel his return at my back. Suppressing a sigh as his breath dances across my neck, I stand tall and still.

“Win this race,” he murmurs in my ear, “and I’ll let you restrain me to the bed tonight.”

The corner of my lips quirk into a teeny smile at an image of a naked Dash spread out like a starfish on my bed.

Ooooh, I like that mental picture very much.

I remain silent, hoping my answer isn't obvious. He deserves to squirm until the straps tucked under my mattress are wrapped securely around his wrists and ankles.

"Good luck, Juni," Dash says before shuffling away.

When I no longer feel the heat from his body, I exhale and shake out the tension from my firm stance. I don't turn around in case he's watching for some sort of sign. But if he's a smart man, he should know what I plan to do.

Win the race. Happily torture him in my bed.

A wicked smile plays on my lips when a new thought streaks across my lusty fantasies. That bastard just dangled the power of sex to reignite my drive to win.

Well played, Dashwood, well played.

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