“You make it sound much worse than it actually was.”
He raised a sardonic brow. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I’m remembering correctly. And when I started to forget, then there was Emily to remind me. Which she did—often.”
The joke lightened the moment considerably, but I wasn’t okay with him ladling the guilt on as thick as he was.
“You were hurting,” I demurred. “You can’t be held responsible for every single thing you said and did while you were hurting. It’s not an accurate portrayal of who you are. And now I . . . I think I’m beginning to understand.”
He was silent a moment, then asked very quietly, almost a purr, “Are you?” The question was rhetorical. He focused on doodling on my fingers, his eyelashes fluttering softly on his cheeks. “Do you understand that the way I feel about you no longer scares me?”
“It doesn’t?”
He shook his head slowly. When he did look up, the expression prominent on his face called a blush to my cheeks. The hooded-up eyes could hide neither his delight nor his fervor.
“I love it when that happens,” he remarked. But the playful look vanished almost as soon as it had appeared; something earnest and sincere replacing it. “Foster, I don’t know if it’s possible for me to tell you all the ways in which you inspire me. I’ve never met anyone who could compare with your kindness and compassion. The way you love . . . you love freely. You love without expecting anything in return. The kids at the House, your friends, your parents—everything you do for them comes from a pure place. There is no one like you Foster Kelly.”
Tears had begun pushing hard at the back of my eyes many second ago. Now, they flowed freely. I couldn’t stop them if I tried.
“Please don’t cry,” he murmured.
I brought the napkin to my eyes again. “I don’t know how you do that,” I said. “You always say the most wonderful things to me.”
“I only ever tell you the truth.” Still wiping my eyes, I felt his fingers go still on my hand. When I pulled the napkin back, I saw that his face was still, too, and a little grave. “Your question,” he reiterated, “the other reason being around you—”
“I’m so, so sorry to disturb you.” All of a sudden, there was an older lady at our table, in a simple black dress and holding a walkie-talkie in her hand. She looked uncomfortable and contrite. She hunkered down at the middle of the table, looking between Dominic and me, in what I supposed was meant to be a smile, but looked more like a grimace. “But do either of you happen to drive a black mustang?”
“I do,” Dominic answered.
“Okay.” A tight, rigid smile spread her lips apart. “Now it’s nothing to be too concerned about, but there was a small accident in the parking lot.”
A small flash of irritation crossed Dominic’s face. I thought it was more in response to being interrupted. “Is it serious? Can it be handled later?”
Again, she tried to smile, but it was only a cheerful grimace. “I think it might be best if you come with me now.”
“I would appreciate just a few more minutes,” Dominic impelled. “Please.”
“Yes.” She swallowed audibly and uncomfortably. “I understand, Sir,” she said as kindly as possible, clutching the walkie-talkie in her thin, veiny hands. “I just don’t think the police officer will appreciate being kept waiting. He needs your information to take down the statement. I’m sorry.” She left then in a flurry, Joan trailing after her.
“What are you doing?” Dominic stared up at me, incredulous, and not a little disappointed.
Putting the to-go box at the end of the table, I slipped an arm into my cardigan. “We need to take care of this,” I said, surprising myself by sounding mildly assertive. He had a look of obstinacy; if left to his own devices, I thought he might very well have ignored or at the least prolonged the trembling woman’s request. “We can continue talking after we’ve made sure everyone and everything is okay with your car.”
“Foster, I—” Whatever Dominic had been about to say, he thought better of it. His chest slowly rose and fell as he gave a heavy sigh of resignation. “Fine,” he said without rancor, scooting back from the table in time to help me slip my other arm into the sleeve. “But we’re not finished.”
Without any injuries to report and only minimal damage done to Dominic’s passenger mirror and door, the ordeal was still a somewhat lengthy process; and by the time we were permitted to leave, after information was exchanged, our dinner compensated, and countless apologies from both valet and manager, it was nearly ten o’clock.
Dominic wasted little time, taking my hand and leading me briskly around the car. He opened my door and stepped back.
“Thank you.” Seated, I smiled up at him, smoothing out my dress. “Where are we going?”
“That,” he replied decadently, a smile hooking up one side of his face, “is a surprise.”
“Not even a hint?”
“Okay,” he relented, and squatted down so we were almost eye-level. “I’ll give you a hint.” He leaned forward, grazing my cheek with his lips on the journey toward my ear. My whole body shivered with delight. “The hint is,” he whispered softly, “the moon is your face.”
~
If anyone but Dominic had been attempting to lead me blindfolded down a very long, winding, uneven set of stairs, I would never have allowed it to happen. It was not only dangerous for me, but probably more so for the leader.
We were outdoors—that much I knew. As for the exact location, my first guess would be a beach; in the distance I could hear what sounded like water breaking on a shoreline and the vestige of brine clung to the moist night air, swirling with sea spray carried on the breeze. If we were at the ocean, however, we couldn’t be all that close.
Reflexes invoked, my grasp tightened on his hands when I clipped what I thought was the side of Dominic’s shoe for the fifth time. I apologized to him—again.
“Can I look now?” I asked, my voice adopting the trace of a whine, and having lost count of how many times I’d asked already.
“No,” he snapped. “We’re almost there. You’re doing great.” Then he laughed. “I promise all the work will have been worth my blood, sweat, and tears.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but I was a little tense and worried I might actually hurt him. There wasn’t even so much as banister or railing for me to hold onto.
“Just because it’s the truth, doesn’t make it any less dangerous,” I said, my voice faltering when I missed the edge of the stair. Dominic smoothly and effortlessly leveled me out, chuckling.
“Foster,” he said consolingly, “you couldn’t hurt me if you jumped on my back—in fact—”
“No!” I squeaked. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?” I could hear him smiling. “It would move things along, and then I wouldn’t have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. I wasn’t kidding about the blood.”
“You’re laughing?”
“I’m trying very hard not to,” he said soberly, then I heard him snicker.
“Why? What’s so funny?”
“Well, it’s actually quite cute,” he said, his tone taking on a note of observation. “You, uh . . . you do this little curtsy thing with each step you take. Your foot comes out to the side, and then the other one comes down to the step in front of it.” I was too focused to respond; and even being informed of how ridiculous I looked, if it ensured that the both of us arrived safely to our destination, I didn’t mind so much. “We’re almost there,” Dominic repeated calmly, and I couldn’t detect any laughter in his voice; only excitement. “A couple more steps and then I’ll take the blindfold off.”
I clipped his shoe at least one more time, maybe more, but I was having trouble differentiating between what was him and what was stone. About to apologize again, he suddenly said, “Okay, we’re here,” an eagerness in his voice that made me smile despite my terror of pitching forward. But I had a better sense of bearings now, and thought that we must have level
ed out to a plateau of some sort. “I’m going to take off the blindfold.”
“Okay,” I said quietly, involuntarily matching his softness. He released my hands and I felt him come to stand behind me. He fiddled with the knot for only a second, and then the fabric was dropping away from my face, being pulled over my shoulder. Dark as it was, my eyes needed a moment to adjust after being closed for a time. I took in a deep breath of air only to immediately push it back through my lips in a whoosh of joyous surprise.
“Oh . . . my—Dominic.” My head swung from side-to-side, trying to take it all it at once. Curious, I couldn’t resist throwing a quick glance over my shoulder at the staircase we’d descended. It was at least half a kilometer and very steep. My throat closed on itself automatically and I felt dizzy where I stood.
Dominic’s hands came to rest solidly on my shoulders. “The view is the other way,” he said close to my ear.
He wasn’t lying.
The unobstructed view of a benighted sky watching protectively over a tranquil ocean stunned me into stupefied silence. The moon, swollen and full, stared at me—I laughed out loud. It stared me right in the face, I thought, recalled to Dominic’s hint. With a certain elegance and knowledge of how beautiful it was, the moon hung like a perfect pearl pendant dropping from an invisible neck, infusing the quiet surface of the ocean with incandescent light; leading a glowing, moving, shimmering path of pearly white all the way to the shore. It looked substantial enough to dance on. Its light seemed to illuminate everything it touched, including the cliffs surrounding a private alcove below and that curved to a bend, supporting the houses on a firm foundation.
Something occurred to me. Where we stood, we were like two perched birds on a terrace, simultaneously gazing straight down and looming above a view someone had very obviously paid for. A balustrade made entirely of limestone enclosed us; a neat and small area like a gazebo, but without an overhang or anything that might compromise the view. There was a crescent shaped bench a few paces behind us, and all sorts of shrubbery and exotic flowers growing indulgently from the long strip of earth encircling us.
“Where are we?” I asked very quietly, afraid to disturb the paradise just beginning to wake up for the night.
“In someone’s house.” I found his face much like his voice, calm and enchanted. “Do you like it?” He was staring straight ahead, but turned toward me now, smiling.
“Someone’s house?” I repeated, my whispered strangled. “You mean we’re trespassing?”
“Maybe a little. You didn’t answer my question, though. Do you like it?”
I stared him, stammering. “W-what? Yes, of course, it’s incredible, but we have to go. We could go to jail for trespassing.”
“Now wouldn’t that be a first date to remember,” he offered with enthusiasm. “We could have our mug shots framed.”
At the moment I didn’t appreciate his levity. “Dominic, we can’t be—” Out of the corner of my eye I saw something flash and I ducked without thinking, peeking back over the balustrade with terrified eyes. A light had just come on the next level down, illuminating an expansive backyard, complete with a pool, Jacuzzi, and living quarters off the left of the main entrance. “We have to go. We have to go now!”
“We do? Why?”
His calm only unnerved me more. “A light just came on,” I said, pointing a trembling hand. “Over there. Down below.”
He followed my finger, his face harboring not so much as a speck of fear. “Oh, I see it.”
“And so now can we go?”
“But we just got here,” he argued, his expression sanguine. “I haven’t even shown you the best part.”
And chances are he never would, not if we were arrested.
“I just remembered something.” He suddenly laughed to himself, louder than I would have dared. He reached out a hand, helping me to my feet. “It’s kind of an important detail, too.”
“What is it?” I asked hurriedly, shooting nervous glances at the light that had yet to shut off. I peeked around Dominic, looking for any signs of movement. I was prepared to pick him up if I had to.
“I know the homeowners.”
That did it. I stared up at him. “You . . . know the homeowners?”
“Well,” he gave a small shrug, “not personally, no, but my uncle is working with them while he designs their house. This house,” he said, throwing out an arm in a flourish. The face finally submitted to the laughter beneath it. “Nobody lives here yet.”
What I had neglected to notice before—terror and fright acting as another blindfold of sorts—was that, while beautiful and extravagantly put together, the residence had a look of remoteness to it, everything just a little too perfect and untouched. There wasn’t a single piece of pool equipment lying about or any furniture with towels draped over them.
“Foster.” He said my name reprovingly. “Did you honestly think I would sneak you into someone’s house?” I gave him a questionable look, to which he had the audacity to look surprised. “See?” He pulled something shining and jangling from his pocket and set them on the balustrade. “Here are the keys. I solemnly swear on your moon-face that we have permission to be here.”
He smiled, the moonlight attending to his beauty as if he were one of the exotic flowers bathing in its light. I began to laugh. It sounded shaky, though, so I took a deep, head-cleansing breath. “My heart nearly fell out the bottom of my feet when that light came on.”
He feigned a sad face, but the smile poked through. “Yeah, I noticed,” he replied, sheepish. He turned to face me, his eyes hooded and slipped an arm around my back. His gaze trailed down the length of my neck, pausing where my necklace lay. “How’s it doing now?” He murmured, his voice matching the crash of the waves far below us.
“A little better,” I lied.
“Good. The light,” he indicated with his chin, “it’s on a sensor. Probably an animal—or it could be an electricity thing they haven’t sorted out yet. Either way, we are completely alone up here.” He was very close and watching me with lively and intent eyes. I could see myself reflected back in them.
“Oh,” I said, a little breathless. “Good. That’s good. Good.”
Wholly amused, his eyes studied my expression. “Is it?” he asked.
“Mm-hm.”
He mashed his lips together, compressing them before pulling them apart with a pop. “Ah, there it is.” He closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “My Moonpie.”
I sighed into to him, relaxing.
“Can you do me a favor?”
I had my eyes closed. “Mm-hm.”
“Can you go over to that bench and sit down?” He pulled away, attempting to conceal the pleasure dancing vigorously all over his face.
Already heading in the direction he requested, I said, “This surprise isn’t going to make my heart fall out of my feet, too, is it?”
“I certainly hope not. We’re not insured for that kind of liability,” he said with an air of perturbed dignity. “Trust me. Only good surprises from here on out. Scout’s honor.” He came to sit beside me, his eyes pulling wide as he reached beneath the bench, pulling out a wicker basket with a silk red ribbon tied around the handles.
“What is this?” I asked.
“I have no idea. I’m just as surprised as you.” He scooted back a foot and set the basket between us.
“For some reason I have trouble believing that.”
“Oh?” He matched my grin with his own glorious smile. “I suppose that is the downside to having an incredibly smart girlfriend.”
My heart gave a little flutter at that. Dominic began untying the ribbon. I caught a glimpse of two champagne flutes and a bottle of apple cider before he stopped suddenly, a sharp look crossing his face.
“What is that?” he demanded, his voice suddenly serious.
A bit startled, I lowered my gaze, searching blindly for a bug or snake. “What’s what?” I brought my feet off the ground just in case. But Dom
inic wasn’t looking anywhere near my feet.
“That,” he repeated, a deep crease forming between his eyes. “Those marks on your knuckles?” He gently took my palm in his hand and brought it closer for inspection. He sighed and looked straight at me, eyes solicitous. “Foster, you’re bleeding. When did that happen?”
“They’re only scratches,” I said, raising my chin for a better look. Sure enough there were a few fairly deep cuts on every knuckle but my pinky and thumb. “I think I did it when—” I broke off when a wince flashed across his face.
“When you ducked down to hide,” he finished for me, shutting his eyes briefly. “Which never would have happened if I hadn’t been trying to scare you.”
I laughed, but said with a certain aplomb, “Dominic, you are not allowed to claim the responsibility for every injury I get. I’m clumsy. And I didn’t even notice I’d been cut until you said something.”
He looked only very slightly mollified at that. “Should we go back to the car? I think there’s Band-Aids in the first-aid kit.”
Again, I couldn’t help but see the humor and smiled affectionately. Reclaiming my hand, I laid it against his cheek. “In the first-aid-kit you bought because things like this are always happening to me?”
This, too, had very little effect on his dour expression. “That is different,” he determined.
I plunged into the wicker basket and pulled out the bottle of apple cider. “I would love a glass of this,” I said animatedly, giving him my brightest smile.
Dominic gave me a long, blue look, both eyebrows drawn together. “You should know I invented that tactic,” he said coolly, “but I’m going to ignore my better instincts to get you first-aid, and try not to spoil the evening.”
“Thank you.” I handed him the bottle. “I appreciate that.”
He promptly set it back down in the basket. “May I see your hand, please? I just want to check something.” I eyed him a little suspiciously, hesitating. Smiling, he offered his hand, wiggling the fingers invitingly. “Just one thing.” Uncertain and still a little chary, I placed my hand in his palm so that they lay crisscross.
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