Page 95 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

Heart pounding, she swallowed her fear and sent the response her sister deserved.

Natalie: Of course. OMW.

She slipped out of bed, pulled Dash’s sweatshirt over her head, and tiptoed across the room. Pausing at the door, she sent up one final prayer for luck.

Please, please don’t let this be the end of our sisterhood.

As quietly as possible, she turned the knob … and immediately turned to stone. There stood a barefoot Dash, in gym shorts and a faded UT t-shirt, the sleeves of which held his muscular biceps in a choke hold. His hair, a dead giveaway that he hadn’t slept a wink because it appeared as perfect as when he’d arrived at the party. Before she could speak, he pressed a finger against her lips while his eyes pleaded for silence. He didn't say a word or wait for an invitation. Dash stepped inside her bedroom and quietly closed the door.

"But how did you—" Natalie began.

"Kate left her phone downstairs. I thought it might be the only way to get you to talk to me."

Alone together for the first time, they stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. His blue eyes, a stormy sea of recognition, reality, and regret. She wondered if he could read the compunction in hers. Natalie wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms, but that wasn’t an option. Not now, not ever.

“I don’t know about you, but this definitely wasn’t on my Trip to Nashville Bingo card,” he said.

“Mine either.”

“Can we sit down and talk?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. If Kate were to walk in here and find us⁠—”

“Five minutes. Please. Then I promise I’ll go.”

An old lava lamp on her bookcase provided the only light in the room. Dim, but enough to see the look of sincerity on his face, and how it matched the tone of his voice.

Natalie backed up and sat on the end of her bed. Dash parked beside her, leaving a respectable amount of space between their bodies. Mentally, she slipped into a dangerous place as her thoughts spiraled back to London. At any moment, she fully expected her heart to burst from her chest and fall onto the bed between them. Dash locked his fingers together and leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees. A full minute passed with nothing but silence and the low hum of the ceiling fan overhead. Natalie held her breath, unsure who would begin speaking first.

Slowly, he turned his head toward her. “I thought I’d figured out everything I wanted to say, but now that I’m here with you …”

“It’s okay. I don’t know what to say either.”

“The phrase unprecedented times comes to mind.”

“I feel like we should consult an Emily Henry novel for guidance here.”

He cracked half a smile. “Maybe there’s a twenty-four-hour hotline? Like the folks at Butterball, when you need help cooking your Thanksgiving turkey.”

Natalie released a long sigh.

Yeah, except I have a goose in this scenario … and it’s most definitely cooked. Burnt to a crisp, in fact.

“God, it was so hard for me to stand there today and pretend like I didn’t know you,” he confessed.

She nodded. “It was hard for me too. I thought for sure you didn’t remember me.”

His eyes and tone grew serious. “I remember everything, Natalie Powell. Everything.”

Natalie sucked in another breath, praying to keep a deluge of regret-filled tears from falling.

So do I. Every look. Every touch.

Every whisper. Every word.

“I’m really proud of you, by the way. Your showcase was beautiful. Fire or no fire, you have a gift and you’re going to succeed. You’re incredibly talented.”

No, I’m incredibly awful, because I’d love nothing more than to crawl in this bed with you and pick right up where we left off.