Page 38 of Dash

After she texted it, she bit the side of her bottom lip, and thought about the question if it were asked back to her. That was the thing about questions. When asked, the asked should always prepare to answer them. She wasn’t sure if she had an answer. She didn’t even know what her favorite song was at that moment.

While waiting for his response, she started flipping through her favorite radio stations and their playlists. Considering the titles, some were easier to dismiss, while others were worthy of consideration. She didn’t want her answer to be too cliché or predictable. Then again, it was all about honesty.

PRK: Easy. FFDP: Wrong side of heaven. You?

There it was. Bonus points, she knew the band. What was it with him and using acronyms? Cueing up the song, she listened and drew her brows together. He’d chosen a song about turmoil, and the video was clearly aimed toward veterans. She had more questions for PRK.

Shit. She needed to tell him a song about her.

Gingersnap: Um Halestorm, I am the fire.

Biting her lips together, she wasn’t sure if that was the right answer, if there even was a right answer.

Gingersnap: I think that my theme song changes at different points in my life.

PRK: I could see that.

Gingersnap: Does yours?

PRK: Nah. That’s been my song, pretty much since I came home.

She slipped her laptop off, placing it on the floor, and got comfortable on the couch. Lounging back all cozy, she grinned at her phone. It was time to get to know PRK.

Gingersnap: Are you a veteran?

PRK: Yeah. Army.

Gingersnap: Thank you for your service.

Dropping her phone on her stomach, she covered her face with her hand. She couldn’t have said a lamer thing. She sounded like her ninety-year-old great aunt Edna. Confidence, Liz.

PRK: You’re welcome.

Gingersnap: I’m sorry. That was lame.

PRK: It wasn’t. It happens all the time. But you can make it up to me.

Smirking at her phone, she sat up a bit. Heat blossomed in her core and she wet her bottom lip with her tongue. He’d given her an opening. What would she do with it?

Gingersnap: You’ve got my attention.

PRK: I’d like to explore that list you sent.

Her mouth went dry, and she was pretty sure her heart stopped. The list. She’d forgotten about the list. Holy fucking hell, how could she have forgotten about the list? Squirming on her couch, it suddenly became rather warm in her apartment. Decision time. To play or not to play with PRK?

Gingersnap: Your place or mine?

Holy hell. She just typed that.

PRK: I want you to be comfortable. Your place. Your rules. Text me the address and give me an hour.

Chapter 19

Dash

The canvas rifle bag was the best for carrying his toys for playdates. The length was perfect for canes and the falls of floggers. It had a shoulder strap, and it was, believe it or not, inconspicuous. Most people didn’t know it was actually a bag for rifles—it just looked like a rectangular bag.

Climbing the outdoor stairs to her second-floor walk-up apartment, Dash surveyed the complex. Well kept, slightly dated, three floors, each unit had a door to the outside. It wasn’t bad. He’d texted that he’d arrived, and she stood at the open door watching him stroll up the walkway.

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