Page 32 of The Deal Breaker
“You’re my friend. You live here already.”
For someone so smart, he could be dense at times. “In the cottage, not in the same house.”
He pushed the containers toward Iris. “It’s not a big deal.”
“To you.” Even though Dash didn’t need her the way he once had, the urge to take care of him was strong. “I’d feel better if you talked to Raina about my staying here before we make this a done deal.”
Dash’s gaze met Iris’s. A beat passed. “If that’s what you want, I’ll ask her tomorrow, so don’t waste time looking for another place.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” He raised a wonton off his plate. “And it won’t be with Raina, either. Trust me.”
Iris wanted to, but his girlfriend was a wildcard.
He made a face, one that saidcome on. “When have I ever let you down?”
“Well…” Should she start with the most recent time or—
“Don’t answer,” he said sharply. “Eat while the food’s still hot.”
Iris took a bite of the Pad Thai, her favorite. That didn’t stop her from feeling all tingly. Not because of the food but Dash.
He was acting like his old self. The one who’d thrown her a surprise birthday party when she turned twenty-one. The one who’d driven to the restaurant to pick her up nine years ago when she had nowhere to go. The one who’d had his brand-new house’s kitchen remodeled so she could cook on her dream oven and cooktop. The one who’d binge watched movie series with her before it was the thing to do.
Maybe spending more time together—albeit a meal or bumping into each other in the house—would bridge the disconnect she’d felt with him for so long.
Dash set his fork on his plate and picked up his beer. “Want to watch a movie after dinner?”
Her heart swelled. “I’d love to.”
“We can eat the brownies then. It’ll be like old times.”
Old times? Or new ones?
Nodding, Iris ate a forkful of curry. She couldn’t wait to find out because tonight had given her hope that maybe her friendship with Dash wasn’t over. Maybe it had just changed a little.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Monday evening, Dash rode the elevator to Raina’s loft in the Pearl District. His day had started off with a call from his mom, who wanted to use the beach house next week, and wanted him to talk to his dad who had the dates blocked off. Dash hadn’t had time to get caught up in another squabble. He told her to phone him herself which led to his father’s angry voicemail about being bothered by “that woman” and a frustrated message from his mother about “that man.”
Dash didn’t return either call because he’d been in meetings all afternoon. He’d also received a text from Iris telling him she’d gotten the apartment. The happy face emojis told him how excited she was about the news. He used other emojis to congratulate her. He might be torn over her leaving, but he would do his best to be supportive.
At least tonight’s dinner with two of his VPs and a potential customer had gone well. They’d sealed a multimillion dollar, five-year contract at the swanky restaurant on the thirtieth floor of a Portland skyscraper with a great view of the metro area.
But today had drained him. His parents kept blowing up his cell phone, but he would ignore them as long as he could. Maybe he should sell the beach house, so they had one less thing to fight about. It wasn’t as if he’d used it in the last two years.
Dash yawned. All he wanted to do was go home—and he’d thought of doing just that—but he needed to do this to firm up the plans with Iris.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. He forced his feet to move.
He stepped out into a lobby area decorated in a style he jokingly referred to as high-end urban hipster. Call him old-fashioned, but he preferred his house with a big yard—what others called an estate—but Raina loved the location and architecture of this building.
Get in. Get out.
That was his plan for tonight.
Dash strode to her unit and knocked.
