Plot Twist(50)

“Okay, I’ve got an idea. Let’s get your laptop and head out.” The suggestion came quickly, but as the words settled he realized that he missed being around her, and he’d just created an excuse to be next to her again.

“And go where?” She let out an exhausted sigh, but her expression turned curious as she twisted a loose piece of hair around her finger and watched him, waiting to hear more.

When they pulled into a parking spot at Glow, Sophie turned to Dash and exhaled sharply. “Not to rain on your spontaneous parade, but you do know we need appointments to be at the spa, right?”

Dash killed the engine and unbuckled his seat belt, then stepped out of the car. Despite her protests, Sophie slung on her backpack and stepped out, too.

“You forget that I’m the owner’s brother, and you’re the owner’s best friend.” He had some newfound confidence as he came around to her side of the car to meet her. “They’ll make something work.”

“We’ll see about that, Montrose.” She hadn’t called him by his last name before. And, as it turned out, he liked the sound of that just as much as when she said his first name.

They walked toward the spa entrance, so little space between them that they knocked shoulders, but he didn’t move to correct it and neither did she. He enjoyed the way they touched and tore apart, like magnets seeking each other.

“Maybe a new environment will help your brain melt, or whatever it is you need to write.” He shrugged, but she watched him with interest. “And worst-case scenario, you spend a day at a spa. Not too terrible.”

“Admit it, you just brought me here because you wanted the free macaroons.” Her hand reached for the door handle.

“Well, they are really yummy.”

“They’re my sister’s.” She pulled the front door open, and they both walked through it.

Sophie looked proud of that statement, and he was glad she’d turned some kind of corner and could smile about Nina.

Admittedly, Poppy wasn’t as pleased to see them as Dash had anticipated. She came into the waiting area carrying a green juice with her assistant in tow and reminded Dash that he couldn’t just show up to her place of work and make demands. But, in the end, they paid for day passes, handed over their cells—per the no-phone rule—and had been given lockers with robes and slippers, along with unlimited use of the spa facilities.

When Dash stepped out of the men’s locker area and into the coed relaxation room, his eyes adjusted to the low lighting. Salt lamps lined a path on the floor that led to white sofas and chaise lounge chairs, and the scent of mint and eucalyptus permeated the air. The place wasn’t empty, but most everyone was covered in a blanket with an eye mask. No one so much as stirred as he padded to an empty chaise and sat down.

A man in tennis shorts and a Glow T-shirt approached. “Can I offer you our hibiscus and yuzu tonic?” He extended a shot glass filled with a fizzy pink liquid.

“I’ll take one,” Sophie said.

Dash looked up to see Sophie in the same plush robe with silk tie that he’d been given. She grabbed a shot glass off the tray and took the lounge chair next to Dash’s. She sipped and licked her lips as she settled in. “Oh, you’ll like this, Dash.” She grabbed a shot glass for him. “It’s a little sweet.”

“And antiaging,” the man said.

Dash frowned. Was that antiaging comment directed at him? He took the shot glass, the first time he’d held one since getting sober. But he knew this wasn’t the same, even though his body reacted to the feel and look of the glass in a knowing and longing kind of way that irked him.

“I’ll take this over the Botox.” Sophie drank down the rest of hers.

Dash wasn’t looking forward to drinking an antiaging potion but pinched his nose and swallowed his in one gulp. He braced for the impact of something decidedly too healthy but, to his surprise, it did taste sweet.

“Are you shocked that you didn’t immediately turn into a carrot stick?” she whispered.

“It could still happen.” He kept his voice low, too.

She smirked.

“You brought your laptop?” He readjusted the soft collar of the robe. Maybe he needed one of these for himself.

Sophie picked a bag up from the floor, put it on her lap, and gave it a firm pat. “What did you bring?”

He pulled a book from the pocket of his robe.

“You brought a romance novel?” Sophie eyed him with a confused expression.

“When you were packing up your laptop, I saw it on your bookshelf and liked the cover. So I’m borrowing it, I guess.” He shrugged.

Sophie shook her head and leaned back in the chair. “Well, get ready to bawl your eyes out. Abby Jimenez can really write a tearjerker.”

“What?” He leaned forward, and she pivoted toward him. The side of her robe fell open slightly, revealing a long stretch of her leg. He shook his head and refocused. “Isn’t this a romance?”

“Yeah.” She opened her laptop. “And sometimes there’s crying in romance.”

Dash wasn’t a big crier. “Well, I’m not afraid of a few tears.”

“Bawling. Your. Eyes. Out. I guarantee it.” They held each other there for a moment before he decided to break the tension.

“Get to work, already,” he said as he cracked the book open.