Swink
Page 15
Dominic
THERE’S SOMETHING TO BE SAID for calculating the thread count in your sheets. That and sleeping in the bed of a beautiful woman.
The room glows, the all-white décor almost blinding, as I open my eyes. My body feels rested, lots of the aches I wake up with daily in my legs and hips aren’t as noticeable, and I wonder vaguely if maybe that means I’m dead. Then I look to my right and see Camilla asleep next to me and realize if I’m dead, I’m okay with that.
Last night wasn’t the best sleep I’ve ever had, but it wasn’t the worst. Once we got here late and fucked ourselves senseless, I had a hard time falling asleep. It was well past three before my eyes finally shut, but they did. They don’t always.
Cam’s on her side, facing me. Her hair is a wild mess against the pristine sheets. I glance at the clock, then back to her. Then back to the clock. Then to the ceiling.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I count to three and then turn to my side. Running a fingertip from her forehead down the side of her face, her neck, and over her shoulder, she wakes up under my touch.
Her lashes flutter as she opens her eyes. “Hey,” she says, her sleepy voice killing me.
“Good morning.”
“No breakfast in bed?”
“I’m not much of a cook,” I admit. “But I promise to buy you breakfast if you get up and come with me.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s early.”
She yawns. “Like five o’clock early or like ten o’clock early?”
“Ten isn’t early, babe.”
“It is to me,” she yawns again.
“It’s six.”
“Where do you have to be at six in the morning on a weekend?”
“I don’t have to be anywhere. I have somewhere I want to be and I want you to be there with me.”
She looks up at me with one eye, the other buried in the sheets. “What if I remind you I’m naked? Would that keep you in bed?”
“Nope,” I say, springing off the mattress. My feet hit the soft carpeting and I swear I sink a couple of inches. “Get your fine ass up, Miss Landry. The world awaits.”
“The world can wait.”
“Stay right here.” I leave Cam just inside the door and jog across the mats. Flipping on the switch, I wait for the hum of the halogen lights and watch them flicker to life high above our heads. “Welcome to Percy’s.”
“I can’t believe you brought me here,” she squeals. Almost bouncing on her toes, she claps her hands in front of her as I return. “So this is where you train?”
“This is it. Not super fancy or any of that, but it works.”
“It’s amazing.” She looks around the room, to the section with heavy bags and then on to the speed bags. I think her eyes will pop out of her head when she sees the ring in the back. “There. You fight in there.”
“Yup. That’s where I go at it with Bond.”
She rests her gaze back on me like a little kid at Christmas. “Teach me something, Dom.”
“What?” I laugh.
“Come on! Teach me something. Please?”
“What do you want to learn?”
“Hell if I know,” she giggles. “Teach me how to throw a punch. Or a kick. Or toss someone over my back like they do in the movies.” She makes her hands into fists and rolls them around like the fighters did in old blockbusters.
“Okay, killer. Let’s slow down,” I laugh, leading her through the gym. “One thing at a time.”
“I’m an all-or-nothin’ kind of girl.”
“Is that so?”
“It is today.”
I set my bag on the floor and look for a pair of gloves. I know Percy has extra ones in the back, but I don’t want to go get them. Finding them in the bottom, I stand up to see her circling a heavy bag the wrong way. She throws a couple of punches, terribly, then a kick that almost lands her on her ass.
“We’ve found the thing you aren’t good at,” I crack, tossing her the gloves. “Put these on before you wreck your manicure.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she nods, obviously humoring me. “You knew the word ‘manicure.’ I feel strangely accomplished.”
“You would.”
“What is a manicure called if it’s on your toes?”
“A . . . toe-icure? A foot-icure?”
She giggles as I help her into the gloves. “No. ‘Ped’ is Latin for foot. So it’s pedicure.”
“Thanks for that bit of trivia I’ll never need.”
“Could be a Jeopardy question one day,” she teases. “Better bank that information.”
“It’s right here,” I say, tapping my temple. “Now let’s teach you something you can actually use. Let me see your jab.”
She sticks her left arm out.
“No, you’re right-handed. You’ll jab with your right, not your left.”
She repeats the same movement with her other hand.
“Whatever you think you know from doing those aerobic videos, forget it. Forget it all,” I tell her, shaking my head. “It’s like this.”
I demonstrate a few jabs on the bag, popping the leather with my fist over and over. I follow it with a cross a time or two, just so she can see it in order. When I stop and look at her, she’s watching me with a smile. “Did you get that?” I ask.
“I got that you look hot as hell doing it.”
I look at the ceiling. “Did you see the mechanics of the punch?”
“I saw the way your back ripples,” she says, moseying my way. “And the way your legs flex and—”
“So you got nothing.”
“I got nothing.” She stands on her tiptoes and I bend so she can kiss me. “Can I see it again? One more time. I’ll try to watch your arms this time.”
We spend over an hour throwing punches, stealing kisses, and learning how to turn your hips over for a roundhouse kick. By the time we’re done, we’re lying on the mats catching our breath.
She turns her head and faces me. “This was fun.”
“Really? You liked it?”
“The boxing was fun. It’s a good workout.”
I nod in agreement.
“But I really liked being here with you. In your space, you know?”
Rolling onto my side, I move my hand so I’m touching her. “I’m trying to figure out how I can show you I want you to be a part of my life but do it in a way where I don’t worry about you.”
“This place is harmless, Dom.”
“Right now,” I agree. “But when it’s open, there are people in here that aren’t savory. Take Gary, the guy from some place in Texas that no one can find on a map. The guy is flat-out weird, Cam. Serial killer material.”
“Oh, he is not.”
“He is too! Weird as fuck. Then there’s Noah, the kid that snorts more shit up his nose than I care to know. And Bond, the asshole I only tolerate because he’s a good sparring partner.” I play with a lock of her hair, twirling it around my finger. “I don’t want to risk you to any of them. I won’t. I just have to figure out safe ways to incorporate you into this. Okay?”
“Okay.” She leans forward and presses a sweet, sweaty kiss to my lips. “Now, since you’re all give-y today, I have a question. A request.”
My stomach churns at the look in her eye. “What?”
“Will you go to the charity event with me this week that I’ve been planning?”
“No.”
“Come on, Dom,” she whines, rolling onto her back again. “It’s just for an evening. It won’t be fun, I won’t lie, but I really want to take you with me. Don’t you want to see what I’ve been working on?”
“I’m proud of you, whatever you’ve done. But . . .” I imagine seeing the two wenches from the restaurant there and being under their scrutiny. “It’s not my thing.”
“You brought me here. I want to bring you there.”
“You took me to Hillary’s. Same difference.”
“No, it isn’t. Not at all.”
She gives me the best glare she can muster, which isn’t much. “Will you at least think about it?”
“You think about this,” I say, getting to my feet and looking down at her. “You consider what it might be like if I got my hands on Graham. Then ask me again to accompany you if you think that’s a great choice. In the meantime, I’ll be in the ring if you care to join me.”
I walk away, hearing her scramble to her feet behind me. “No one is here, right?”
“Nada.”
“You know what we could do . . .”
I grin, knowing exactly what she’s thinking and start peeling my shirt off.
Camilla
“I CAN HANDLE THIS,” I laugh. The wind blows through my hair, the sunshine warm on my face as I look up at Dom. “I’ve babysat kids before.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I see his attention switch direction and land on my cleavage. I squeeze a little tighter than necessary and watch his pupils widen just a bit.
“Do you want to go to the gym today? Or stay home and play with Ryder?” I ask.
“Gym.”
“Then get your ass out of here,” I say, swatting him on the behind as I step to the side. “Ryder! Don’t go down the slide headfirst, okay?”
“Okay!”
He repositions himself at the top of the slide and scoots down the metal incline and into a pit of sand below. Picking himself up, he goes right back around to do it again with the biggest smile on his face.
The playground behind their apartment complex is minimal at best. A slide, a broken teeter-totter, a little dinosaur that just bobs back and forth, and a couple of swings are it. Ryder knows no difference. This is his favorite place in the world.
“What are you going to do all afternoon?” Dom asks, coming up behind me and folding me into his chest. His chin rests on my shoulder as we watch his nephew.
“This, probably. I, um . . .” I force a swallow, a little nervous and a little embarrassed about my next sentence. “I brought some designs that Sienna has for the company she’s thinking about launching with a friend in Illinois. She asked me to take a look at them for some reason, but I don’t know why—”
“Because you’re smart.”
My cheeks heat and it has nothing to do with the sun.
“I heard your suggestions for The Gold Room. Have you ever thought of doing something with design? Maybe interior design or something? Your house is beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I blush.
“You should, Cam. I think you’d be great at it.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” he laughs, kissing the top of my head.
“Well, I’ve strangely enjoyed it. And, this might sound dumb, but I’ve been thinking about how to use design and combine it with volunteer work and scholarships and stuff to see if I can come up with a way to make a difference somehow.”
“That,” he says, kissing me sweetly, “is an awesome idea. I love it.”
My grin causes my cheeks to ache.
“I want to talk about this more. But right now, I need to go. Bond’s probably already waiting.”
I bite my tongue and don’t say the words that come so naturally—the question about why he’s doing it or why he can’t just stop. While I don’t understand the answers, I know what they are. And I know this is important to him. So instead of going there, I smile. “Have fun. Be safe.”
“Oh,” he teases, backing away slowly. “I like this new Camilla. Where’d she come from?”
“Don’t push it.”
“You sure you don’t want to talk me out of it? Remind me how bad it’s going to hurt later?”
“Nope,” I say. “I’m going to go to the pharmacy and buy adult bubble bath and ice packs and ace bandages. If I have to worry about you getting hurt, you have to deal with me fawning all over you when you get home.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. His smile as wide as his shoulders says it all. With a little wave and a shout of goodbye to Ryder, he’s in his car and pulling out of the parking lot in a minute.
The Camaro rips around the corner and is out of sight. I stand watching where he was parked, reveling in the easiness of things right now. Over the past few days, since the fight with Graham and Dom’s revelation about his teenage years, things have been a little different. Less complicated. A touch closer. More intimate.
We aren’t there, yet, not to the place where I feel like we’ve crossed the hurdles and are on solid ground. There’s still so much to work through. But progress is progress.
I turn to watch Ryder struggle to get in the swing. “Let me help you, buddy,” I say, crossing the curb and padding through the grass. I get him situated and then pull the swing back and let him go free.
“Higher, Camilla!”
His laugh pierces the air, a stark contrast to the rather dismal surroundings. He’s making the best of what he has.
“You’re an inspiration, Ryder. You know that?”
“What’s a spiration?”
“An in-spiration,” I say, slowing the word down, “means that you inspire me.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“That’s okay. It’s a good thing.”
He pumps his legs back and forth, the tail of his superhero cape floating behind him. “You know what else is a good thing, Camilla?”
“What’s that?”
“Little brothers!”
“What do you know about little brothers?”
“Well, Chrissy’s sister has two little boys and they get to play together all the time. I told Daddy I need a little brother. Chrissy said I should tell him so I did.”
“I bet she did,” I say, laughing. “But a little brother would need a mommy, Ry, and I don’t think your daddy has picked one yet.”
“You could be my mommy.”
“Oh, well . . .” I say, realizing what I just walked into. “I’m not your daddy’s girlfriend. I’m your Uncle Dom’s. So I could be your aunt, but not your mommy. Although, any woman that gets to spend time with you is a lucky ducky.”
He grins at me, his eyes sparkling like Dom’s. “You make me happy.”
“You make me happy too, little guy.” I slow him down until his miniature cowboy boots drag the dirt. “I have an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Instead of spending the day here, why don’t we go to my house?”
“Could we?” he asks, jumping off the swing.
“Absolutely. Let me check with your daddy first.”
“I could’ve brought him home,” I tell Nate as he comes through the door. “It would’ve been no big deal.”
“I’d hate for you to have to get out and lug him around, especially if he’s asleep.”
“He passed out a few hours ago.” I tuck my legs under me on the sofa and watch Nate take in my living room. “I think I wore him out. We played at your apartment, then I took him down to Marcone Park and fed the ducks and got an ice cream, then we watched a movie.”
“All in one day? Shit, Priss. He won’t want to leave.”
Laughing, I pick up my glass of hot tea. “It was fun. When Dom called and told me he had to go do an emergency HVAC job, I tried to get Ryder to take a bath. But he kind of just used my tub as a swimming pool.”
“Sounds about right.”
The lamps around the room cast a soft light on Nate’s features. It mutes the general sternness he projects and makes me wonder how he would’ve ended up had he not had the upbringing he did.
He’s handsome. Not quite as good-looking as Dom, but almost. They’re both intelligent and hard workers. I can see them both sitting in suits at a business meeting or on the arm of a woman at one of the fancy dinners my parents attend regularly. The thought makes me smile.
“So,” Nate sa
ys, clearing his throat, “Dom told me you and one of your brothers had a falling out.”
“Yeah.” My heart tumbles as Graham is brought up. He hasn’t called me and I haven’t called him. I pick up my phone at least twice a day and almost give in and reach out and then I remember—I have nothing to apologize for. I put the phone back down.
I hate this between us. It’s something I can’t shake. Even though I do believe, without a doubt, he means well, I can’t act like this is okay because it’s not. Graham will never respect me if I let him walk all over me.
“If it’s my fault . . .”
“It’s not your fault,” I insist. “It’s . . . it’s the joining of a bunch of different things. Family growing pains, I guess. I don’t know.”
“I can tell it bothers you.”
“Yeah,” I rasp. “My family is really close. Like you and Dominic but there are six of us. I’ve gone this long without talking to one of them lots of times, but never because we’re actually mad.”
“Can I help somehow?”
I shake my head, putting my tea back on the table. “No. It’ll work out.”
He looks away and lets out a breath. “Did they not like Dom?”
I know what he’s implying, questioning, and I feel terrible that such a thing would cross his mind. “Ford and Lincoln did like him, actually. You know Sienna loves him. I mean, what’s not to love?”
“Lots of things,” he chuckles. “But he’s a good guy. I know you know that.”
“I do.”
He turns to face me, his eyes pure sincerity. “Dom is the only person in my entire life I can count on. I don’t know how much he’s told you about parts of our childhood . . .”
“Enough to understand what you’re saying.”
“He told you? About . . . that?”
It’s like he can’t say the words, and I just want to jump up and hug him tight. But I don’t. “He did,” I whisper.
He heaves another breath. “He bore the brunt of our dad’s problems. He was the one that couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t stand to see the damage the next morning. Dom feels things more than I do, I guess. Or maybe he paid more attention or was around more because he was younger.”
His head hangs. “I should’ve protected him. That night, I—”