22. Dominic
CHAPTER 22
Dominic
GORDON RAMSEY
PRESENT
“ Y ou coming tonight?” Ryker asks on our way to a domestic call.
“No,” I tell him, distracted. “Can’t.”
Normally Ryker wouldn’t be coming on a call with me, but it’s a domestic call for a city councilman in Badger Canyon; a little more than your run of the mill DV incident. He needs to manage the politics of it all.
“You used to be good back in the day. Not as good as my record, though,” Ryker muses, trying to get a rise out of me, I think.
He’s been trying to get me to join the recreational football team since I started. It’s made up of a mix of the sheriff’s department and RMPD. Usually they play against the fire department.
“My shoulder is still healing. The last thing I need is some hefty fireman tackling me to the ground.”
He snorts. “It’s flag football.”
I toss him a wry glance. We both know nobody adheres to the rules and mainly use the game as away to take out their aggressions. Aggressions that were probably caused because of their jobs. It’s a toxic cycle.
“Ran into your girlfriend the other day,” he says, pivoting the conversation. There’s humor in his voice.
He must be in a shit mood because he doesn’t usually try to goad me twice in less than ten minutes.
I blow out an exhale. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Oh, I know.”
I stay silent, because I’d rather not discuss Ellie. Especially at work. I’m a private guy and Ellie is never a topic I feel comfortable discussing when she’s not around.
“I can’t believe a knockout like her is still single,” he continues.
Yep, don’t like that at all. Ryker is married, but he wouldn’t be the first married guy I’ve worked with to stray. It’s kind of a rampant epidemic in law enforcement.
“Relax.” He must’ve noticed the tension in my shoulders, the way my fists are clenched. “Claire and I are happy. She’s fucking pregnant, dude. I’m not looking at your girl like that, I’m just trying to figure out what’s taking you so damn long. All it’s going to take is the right guy coming around, and your window will close. Hell, it should’ve closed a long time ago. You’re on borrowed time, my friend. Unless of course she’s not interested in giving you another shot.”
I grunt in response, hoping he drops the subject. And thankfully we’re almost there.
The councilman lives on the outskirts of Badger Canyon, just outside city limits. When we arrive, the scene is about what I expect—two local patrol cars already parked out front, lights flashing, and a handful of neighbors loitering nearby, trying to look inconspicuous while blatantly watching.
“Borrowed time,” I grumble under my breath, glaring at Ryker as I put the car in park. “Since when do you give a shit about my personal life.”
He shrugs, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “Those Ledger sisters are something else. You seen the little one lately? Ariana? If I were ten years younger…”
He trails off, his eyebrows lifting suggestively. I know what he’s doing. And I’m going to let him get to me.
“I’m just saying.” He grins like a smug bastard. “A woman like Elyse doesn’t stay single forever. Tick-tock.” He points to his watch for dramatic effect.
I slam the car door harder than necessary and start toward the house. “Pretty sure there are more pressing matters than my love life, Sheriff.”
He jogs to catch up, still chuckling. “I’m just giving you shit. You make it too easy—you’re the most laid-back guy until someone mentions Elyse, then you turn into a damn bulldog. I want to see you two get back together. Hell, pretty sure the whole town wants that. Well, except Morales.”
I ignore the Morales dig, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. It’s bad enough the whole station found out she showed up to my house. That, paired with her blatant flirting, even Ryker’s taken notice.
“Glad to know my personal life is keeping everyone entertained,” I deadpan.
Ryker doesn’t reply because the front door bursts open, and a man in his late forties storms out, waving his arms dramatically. He’s dressed in a stained tank top and cargo shorts, and I can already tell this is going to be one of those calls.
“Officer, you need to arrest her!” he shouts, pointing toward the house like it’s on fire. “She’s unhinged! Destroyed my car with a baseball bat!”
“Holy shit,” Ryker says quietly as we approach .
“Sir, why don’t you calm down and tell us what happened?” I say, keeping my tone even.
“She lost her damn mind, that’s what happened!” He flails a hand toward the driveway, where a red sedan is parked, its windshield shattered and several dents visible on the hood. “I told her I didn’t like her cooking, and she—she went insane. She’s possessed by a demon!”
Ryker raises an eyebrow at me. “Some days, this job isn’t so bad,” he says under his breath.
Before I can respond, a woman appears in the doorway, holding a…rolling pin? Yep. A literal rolling pin. She’s short, wearing slippers, and her hair is pulled into a messy bun.
“Damn right, I went insane!” she shouts. “You’ve been complaining about my cooking for fifteen years, Ted. If you wanted a chef, you should’ve married Gordon Ramsey!”
I snort, but Ryker shoots me a warning look. “Ma’am, why don’t you put the rolling pin down, and we’ll have a calm discussion?”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m calm! I’ve never been calmer in my life!”
“Sure,” Ryker says, biting his lips. “And the car just tripped and fell into your rolling pin, right?”
“Exactly,” she snaps, clearly unamused. “It’s a miracle I didn’t aim for his head.”
This time, I don’t even bother hiding my sigh. Ryker nudges me with his elbow as I pull out my notepad.
“It’s going to be a long day.”
I groan in agreement and get to work.
Eight hours later, I need a drink. A strong one .
I push open the door to The Jackalope at five o’clock—too early for the usual drinking crowd and definitely not the go-to spot for a gourmet meal. Lucky for me, I’m in the mood for something greasy, washed down with a generous pour of tequila. Both are specialties at Red Mountain’s beloved dive bar.
Behind the counter, the bartender is a fixture of the place, a woman who’s been running the joint since before I was born. With her feathered hair, bold eyeliner, and oversized hoop earrings, she looks like she’s stepped straight out of the 1980s.
“Hey, cutie,” she greets in her signature deep smoker’s voice. She calls every guy cutie, and every woman princess, so none of us feel too special about the nicknames.
“Hey, Rhonda. How’s it going?”
She smirks as she wipes down the counter with a rag that’s seen better days. “Oh, you know, livin’ the dream, darlin’. Or somethin’ close to it.” She tosses the rag into a bucket and leans on the bar, one eyebrow arched. “What can I get you?”
I settle into a barstool. “Tequila, neat. And whatever’s hot out of the fryer.”
She whistles low. “Tequila before six? Either you’re celebrating or you’ve had a helluva day. Which is it?”
“Let’s just say, I’m not in a celebrating mood,” I reply, avoiding her probing gaze.
After the domestic call in Badger Canyon, it was all downhill from there. If I was superstitious, I’d think it’s because there’s a full moon tonight.
Rhonda shrugs and grabs a bottle of well tequila, pouring generously into a tumbler. She sets it in front of me with a bowl of stale peanuts. “Suit yourself, cutie. But if you’re gonna drink like that, you better be eatin’ plenty. It’s the rule.”
“Since when does The Jackalope have rules? ”
She laughs, loud and raspy, as she resumes wiping the counter. “You’re the law, aren’t you? You tell me.”
“Good point.”
She nods her head toward the kitchen. “Tony will bring you out a basket of fries here in a sec.”
I nod my thanks and take a swig of the tequila. The instant is slides down my throat, I regret not opting for the top shelf shit. Nothing quite like the burn of cheap tequila.
The door creaks open behind me, and Rhonda looks to the entrance. “Looks like you’re not the only one who needs a drink this early. Princess, what can I get ya?”
I look over my right shoulder, catching sight of a familiar face.
Ellie.
And she’s not alone.
Next to her is a guy about my height, with a mop of curly, light brown hair and thick, black-framed glasses. He’s standing close to her, too close.
Is she on a date?
The thought makes the tequila turn in my stomach. First of all, the last thing I want is to witness her on a date. But secondly—this is not the kind of place a man takes a woman like Elyse Ledger. What types of men has she been seeing that make her think this is appropriate for a date?
She hasn’t noticed me yet, because the bar is so dimly lit, I probably look more like a shadow than a person from where I’m seated. I take advantage of it and stare at her, letting my eyes roam over slowly. I’m so distracted, I barely give my thanks to Tony as he slides a basket of fries in front of me.
Absentmindedly I start in on the fries, continuing to admire her. She’s wearing a dress, black and form-fitting, a little more dressed up than she usually is. Her shoulder-length brown hair is flowing in soft waves, lips painted in her signature red lipstick. Ellie has always exuded an easy elegance, but with an edge. There’s always something a little wild about her. And those eyes, they may as well be glowing, always piercing, and more so with the black-coal liner drawing attention to them.
After Ellie places an order, she moves closer to my side of the bar, finally noticing me.
Her face lights up in surprise. “Hey! What are you doing here?”
I wipe my greasy hands on a napkin as she walks toward me, still a little in shock that she’s greeting me so warmly. I like it. “Just grabbing a drink.” My gaze shifts to her date, who is still standing where Ellie left him, back by the entrance.
She catches the look and smiles. “That’s Ben—one of my interns.”
I blink several times. “Your intern? ”
It’s embarrassing how relieved that makes me feel.
Ben waves at us awkwardly and Ellie nudges her head for him to come join us.
“Hey. Uh, good to see you again, sir.”
He extends his hand out to shake mine, and surprisingly has a strong grip. Sir. Way to make me feel like a crusty, old grandpa.
My eyes widen. I don’t recall meeting him. “Have we met?”
He nods. “Yeah, I did some IT work at the station.”
Now that he mentions it, he does look vaguely familiar.
The door swings open again and in walk two college-aged girls, a tall red-head and a shorter, dishwater blonde.
“I’ll go grab a booth with the girls,” Ben announces, before going up to meet them.
Once he’s out of earshot, I turn my attention to Ellie. “What’s with the field trip?”
She laughs and it’s the kind of sound that makes my chest feel too full. Ellie’s laugh always does that—makes the world feel lighter, brighter even because she’s not the kind of person who freely gives it away. It has to be earned.
“I told them I’d treat them to dinner for,” she pauses, choosing her words, “for basically being a bitch.” She laughs again, making me want to lean into her to feel the vibration of it. “They chose this place. I offered an actual restaurant, but go-figure; the twenty somethings prefer a dive bar.”
“It is top-tier bar food.”
She huffs and looks over at them chatting in the booth. “Saves me money in the end, I guess.”
I take a sip of tequila, my eyes on the booth as well. “So, how old is the boy?”
Her eyes narrow at me with laughter on the edges. “You sound like my dad,” she snickers and then mocks me in a faux man-voice, ‘How old is the boy?’”
Jesus, she’s right.
“Oh my God,” she blurts, giggling. “Did you think Ben was my date? ”
My ears heat, but I shrug, trying to play it off. “I didn’t think that.”
She leans back, resting against the bar, still grinning. “Ben’s twenty-one. If I was dating him, I’d be a cougar. I’m almost thirty.”
“I know how old you are. And you’ll be thirty next month.”
Like I could ever forget her birthday. It’s the same day as mine.
Our gazes latch and she swallows audibly before glancing away, directing her focus on my fry basket rather than me.
Her hand reaches over, grazing my arm as she sneaks a fry. Mesmerized, I watch her take an aggressive bite of it before plopping the second half of it in her mouth. Those red lips look even poutier with something between them.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the image of her with something else between her lips—on her knees, looking up at me with glassy, glowing eyes.
Her eyes pinch, forehead creasing adorably. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing,” I say feigning innocence. “Tired. Long day.”
“Heard that.” Her shoulders drop as her eyes lose some of their luster. She looks tired.
“Everything okay?” I ask, risking setting her off. She’s never been one to like being asked if she’s okay or if she’s tired, plus we’re still on delicate footing in terms of this friendship.
She sighs and reaches for another fry. I nudge the basket closer to her. She can have the whole damn thing as long as it means keeping her talking, keeping her close.
“It’s nothing. I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.”
There’s a hollowness in her voice, a downturn to her lips. Whatever it is, it’s more than just not sleeping well. She forgets that I can tell when she’s lying. I don’t care if it’s been ten minutes or ten years, I know all her tells. And her biggest tell is when her gaze darts down and to the left, avoiding eye contact.
“If you need anything, I’m here.” My eyes latch to hers, trying to convey how serious I am. It’s not a throw away statement. All she has to do is ask, and I’m there. Hell, I’m there even if she never does ask.
“I should go over there. Socialize. Try to be nice.”
I don’t want her to leave. The amount of times I’ve imagined coming home to her after a long day at work and losing myself in her, it’s too many to count. Even now, in this shit bar, with only a brief conversation, I already feel a million times better. I feel revitalized, like she’s breathed new life into me. She’s fucking magic and has no idea. It’s like I’ve been living in a decade-long fog of black and white, and the moment I’m back in her orbit, my life is in color.
Without considering the repercussions, I reach out for her, wrapping my hand around her wrist. She looks down at where I’m holding her and then back up to my eyes.
“Want a drink first?”
Breathing out a sigh, her lips curl down. “I already ordered a cranberry juice. I don’t like drinking when I’m still in work mode.”
“Want the rest of my fries?” I’m acting desperate and I don’t care. I want her to know I’m desperate for her.
“Dominic,” she starts. It’s a cautious whisper.
“I had a long day, but just getting to see you made it better.”
She looks down at my hand still wrapped around her wrist and gently shakes it loose before crossing her arms tightly. “What are you doing?”
“I think you know what I’m doing.”
I’ve been obvious. Embarrassingly obvious. At this point, my pride is non-existent.
“Well, don’t.”
If the rejection didn’t sting like a bitch, I’d probably laugh. She sounds like she did in high school, her claws coming out in defense.
“I don’t know how to stop,” I tell her honestly.
With her, I have no game. Any smoothness I possessed is gone.
She looks away, glancing back at her three interns and then locks eyes with me for a brief moment, before dropping her chin down. “I—I can’t. We can’t.”
“Why?” I wish she would just talk to me.
Her hands start brushing up and down her arms like she’s cold, but really I think she’s just itching to get away from me—from this situation. It stabs at me, but I keep my face neutral. I don’t like it, but I can take a hint. “It’s fine, Ellie girl. Go ahead and enjoy some time with your interns. I’ll leave you alone. ”
Closing her eyes, she lets out a long exhale. “I’m sorry—I’m not trying to—I’m sorry.”
I take a sip of tequila to keep my voice from cracking. “Nothing to apologize for.” I raise my hand at Rhonda to get her attention so I can close out my tab. “I’ll leave. That way you can relax.”
“Fuck,” she hisses under her breath. “You don’t have to go. I’m sor?—”
“Stop apologizing.” Risking even more rejection I stand and step close to her. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry I keep pushing you when you’re clearly not interested.”
Her shoulders slump, eyes meeting mine since we’re nearly at eye level now. “So, are you giving up now?”
“No,” I say, huffing a laugh. “Do you want me to?”
“I don’t know.” She looks down, swallowing harshly.
That’s not a yes, but it’s also not a no.
Rhonda slides the check across the bar to me, and I retrieve my card, setting it down without shifting my focus from Ellie.
“I’m not going anywhere, querida mía. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“And if I’m never ready?”
I lean down to whisper in her ear. “I’ve never given up on us. I’m not about to start now.”