Page 90 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

One word, but it hit hard. Her tone–sharp and definitive. Something came over her face as well; her lips pressed together as though trying to keep other words from flowing out. The sudden tightness of her jaw let Dash know he’d somehow crossed a line. He felt a prickliness on the back of his neck.

What the hell? Does she not want me to invest in her sister’s business? Isn’t that what the whole damn showcase was for?

“Sorry. That came out harsh. I apologize.” Kate walked around the horse to where he stood and took the brush from his hand. With a much more welcoming tone, she said, “What do you say we make a pizza run? There’s a great little joint a few miles from here and they’re super-fast. Maybe pick up some beer while we’re at it?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great. I’ll call in an order.”

Dash followed her into the tack room where Kate snagged a keyring off a hook just inside the door. She tossed it to him with a fresh smile. “Let’s see how well you drive stick.”

The pizza joint in question was about a fifteen-minute drive from the ranch, in the opposite direction of Nashville proper. The truck’s ancient radio crackled with static. Kate fished an old Kenny Rogers cassette tape from the glove box and popped it into the player. Dash hummed along as he guided the truck along dark country roads while Kate focused on her phone, quiet as a church mouse.

“This truck is mint. Absolutely mint. Aside from its hideous color scheme, I love it,” he said.

“It’s my father’s third child. He loves this truck. It’s never spent a night outdoors. He locks her up in the barn every night. And yes, I know. It looks like a Whataburger on wheels, but hey, like I said, he loves his Vols.”

“Burnt orange and white would look better. I’m surprised he’s letting me drive it.”

“Oh, he doesn’t know. I’d keep that under your hat if I were you.”

So, she trusts me with her father’s most prized possession, but not to partner with her sister? Maybe it’s some sort of weird competition thing between the two of them.

Or maybe she’s keeping something under her own hat.

Does she know about me and Nat? Is she testing me … to see if I fess up?

Dash downshifted and took the upcoming curve slowly. “Now you tell me? Suddenly I feel like Cameron in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”

“Relax. It’s not like Pop records the mileage or anything.”

“A man who keeps a vintage Ford truck this immaculate knows exactly how many miles are on it, trust me.”

“Foster likes you—a lot. I’m sure he’d much rather you be behind the wheel than me. I’m known to have a bit of a lead foot. Enough to get me arrested,” Kate confessed.

Dash’s head snapped in her direction. “You got arrested for speeding? Were you trying to outrun the cops or something?"

"No. It was the summer before I went off to college. I was driving out to a friend’s lakehouse. Some Barney Fife in this tiny little town pulled me over for speeding and when he ran my license, he found I had a warrant out for my arrest."

"A warrant? For what? Art forgery?"

Kate laughed. "No, the warrant was for speeding too. I'd gotten a ticket the year before. My father made me take a Defensive Driving course—which I did, for two whole days at the Sears department store in our local mall. I completed the course. The paperwork was signed and mailed in. I was free and clear."

"Except?" Dash pressed.

"Except the county where I got the ticket never cleared my name from their records. So, the warrant was never canceled. The officer asked me to step out of the car. He handcuffed me, put me in his car, and drove me back to the station where I was photographed, fingerprinted, and locked up. And it's a good thing, too. I looked really threatening. Somewhere, there's a mugshot of me rocking a ponytail with a big pink bow."

"You know something? I've never dated an ex-con before," he said.

Kate fell silent, continuing to scroll on her phone. After a minute, she said, “Guess it’s better than dating someone who's married.”

“What do you mean?”

“Son of a bitch,” she said with a nod of her head. “It all makes perfect sense.”

“What makes sense?” Dash asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you find it strange that Hart left the event without saying goodbye? Hey, turn left up here at the four-way stop.”