5. Dominic
DOMINIC
I love following Este around the house, listening to her point out family heirlooms and revisiting memories in various nooks and crannies.
The ironing board cupboard where she used to squeeze in to win Hide and Seek as a little girl.
The quilt her grandmother got from a local quilter is well-loved and worn, but it is one of her prized possessions.
Este muses about how she needs to figure out what to do with the house.
She finally sighs and points at her watch. “It’s late.”
“Yeah, you got the kiddo at home tonight?” I ask, placing my hand on her knee as she leans in beside me on a creaky old sofa.
“No, actually. She’s camping with friends. But I am turning into a pumpkin. I can’t believe it’s nine, and we’ve been talking for three hours!”
I’m just a man, so I can’t help but ask, “How about you come over to my place for a nightcap?”
Her dazzling ocean-blue eyes widen and fix on mine, and it nearly stops my heart when she whispers, “Okay.”
I stand by the door while she turns off all the lights, grabs her purse, and follows me out to the Jeep.
The rain has calmed down a bit, but it’s still spitting out there, a nice, cool rain I’m not entirely upset by.
However, I hate how it interrupted us in the creek.
It felt like something had been about to happen.
I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that Este was the homeowner whose property I’d coveted for months.
The woman I desperately want to be with is the same one who hadn’t responded with any counteroffers, because she’s clearly not ready to part with her grandparents’ place or the memories associated with it and the creek.
Hell. I can’t fault her for that.
I stare over at her as I start up the Jeep, and she’s so angelic with her blonde waves all wet and a bit of makeup streaked beneath her eyes.
Este’s so real like this, just like she was the day we met at the relay, with her hair in a messy braid and not a lick of makeup on her.
She’s naturally beautiful, with eyes as blue and endless as the clear summer sky.
“You going to drive?” Este whispers, sneaking a peek at my face before glancing away. I notice she’s got a smile on her pretty, tanned face, even if she averts her gaze.
Putting the Jeep in reverse, I obey the speed limit as I wrap around her property and mine to my attached garage, which allows her to avoid the rain when she jumps out of the passenger seat.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” I tell her as I open the door and beckon her in.
Thankfully, I keep a tidy house, so I’m not embarrassed when she strolls through the first floor, taking in the Craftsman-style details.
She’s found a little reading nook with bookshelves built into the pillars that differentiate the front room from the living room.
“It’s beautiful.” Este runs her hand along the cream-colored tufted back of the chair that a friend of mine built specifically for this corner.
I fight the urge to tell her that she’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, mostly because I can sense she’s teetering on a proverbial, invisible line. She wants to trust me, but if I come off too sly or charming, she’ll bolt.
“Thanks. I updated the kitchen with a six-burner range and a dishwasher that’s about as big as you can find outside of a restaurant.
I really hate doing dishes.” I place my hand on her shoulder and guide her through my cozy living room to the kitchen, featuring butcher-block countertops, navy bottom cabinets, and white top cabinets that were all the rage a few years ago.
She points out the marble-sheet backsplash I splurged on and tells me how cute it is, then asks how many bedrooms I have.
“Three bedrooms up, and a first-floor primary that was a recent add-on.” I reach for a bottle of good whiskey.
Este’s eyes widen. “Oh, pour mine easy. I’m a lightweight.”
“Rocks?”
“Lots,” Este confirms as she slides into one of the four barstools at the center island and kicks off her shoes.
I hope it’s a sign that she feels comfortable here.
She drums her fingernails against the wooden top as she waits for her drink, but she does it absent-mindedly, not impatiently.
It’s another adorable quality of hers that makes me want her even more.
“So, I have a confession.” I sigh as she takes a few long sips of the amber liquid. Standing beside her, I place my palm on her back, the material of her dress damp beneath my hand.
“Uh-oh.” Este whistles low as I shake my head and insist it’s nothing to worry about.
“It’s just that, I, uh, thought you should know I’m the one who keeps making offers on your property. I think I’ve made five total now that have, of course, been declined.”
“You?” Este’s mouth drops open. “Oh my God. I wondered who the hell would be so damn persistent about it. What made you think it was for sale?”
“Well, I saw it was on the market for one day nearly a year ago, but taken off just as quickly. Figured a good enough offer might be tempting enough to get it back on the market, or sold off it, if possible. I hope you haven’t felt too nagged.”
She turns her face up, and I duck mine to get closer to her, taking her cheek in my hand. Este’s so warm and sweet-smelling, even after a dip in the creek. I inhale deeply, taking in her flowery-scented hair. She’s heaven.
“I know you aren’t ready to sell.” My voice is soft as her eyes seem to darken into something resembling a stormy sea. “And I promise to stop offering.”
“Yes.” Este stops; confusion etched on her features. “No. I don’t know.”
Este’s arm suddenly encircles my waist. She tilts her head and buries it in my bare chest. I was in such a hurry to get to her, I’d only thrown on a clean pair of jeans.
Then, I swear I feel her lips on my chest as I comb my hand through her rapidly drying locks and caress the back of her neck.
When Este lets out a delicious little moan, it’s enough to make me hard as a rock. My breathing hitches as the desire to make her moan in sexier ways comes crashing over me.
God, I want this woman. The attraction between us is undeniable.
I kiss her head and then her forehead as she suddenly looks up at me with curious eyes.
Just when I think we’re about to open the door to something more than a forehead kiss, a strange ringtone sounds out, and Este digs in her purse to pull out her phone.
“What’s up, babe?” Este answers. I step back to give her some space. “What do you mean Willow left? What? With a boy? Is her car there? Stay put. I’m coming to get you both. Did Sam call her mother?”
I hear pieces of the conversation, and the concern etched on Este’s face worries me. When she stands and paces the kitchen, I can tell she’s upset.
“Yes, of course, Sam should call her mother!” Este bursts out loudly and then cringes at her own volume and force. “Okay, honey. I know it’s scary with the lightning, but I will be there as soon as humanly possible. Hang tight, Reed.”
Her pale face stares up into mine as she explains, “My daughter’s friend’s older sister was supposed to be supervising Reed and her friend Sam, but she dipped out with some guy, and it’s started storming.”
“Let’s get them right away.” It’s a no-brainer.
She resists. “Let me put on a shirt, and we’ll go get your girl!”
“Thank you.” Este sighs out loud and nods, and, by the time I get a T-shirt on, she’s already waiting for me in the garage. Her phone is alight with her GPS, and I glance once at it and realize it’s in the town I grew up in, about forty-five minutes away—I’ve camped on the same grounds myself.
I can make it in thirty with backroads and taking the speed limit as a suggestion rather than a hard and fast rule.
“I’ve got this. Just buckle up.” I back out of the garage, get onto the country road, and floor it. Este is quietly texting much of the ride over, sporting a worry crease or two in her forehead and a jaw that’s clenched visibly tight.
I run my hand over her thigh in a soothing motion. “She’s going to be just fine. We’re almost there. You get the girls, I’ll disassemble the tent and grab anything heavy they’ve got, okay?”
The weather turns into a son-of-a-bitch right then; the wind picks up, and raindrops pelt the windshield as lightning streaks across the sky. Este lets out a little cry that hurts my heart, and all I can do is drive faster.
“Pink tent,” she finally mumbles to me as the next minutes pass like molasses. Finally, I pull into the camping grounds. It’s not long before I see their tiny tent. Even driving slowly, the rain is coming down furiously, damn near sideways.
Este is out of the car before I’ve even parked it, leaving her purse and phone behind and running in her flip-flops to the tent.
She’s already got the girls in tow when I throw my door open, and it’s then that my phone beeps with an alert that makes my stomach sink.
“Leave the tent! There’s a tornado warning!” I call to Este and two soaked teenagers who throw their things in my backseat before they jump in. We’re in the car then: I’m driving, someone’s crying, and Este speaks soothingly as I dial a friend nearby.
My longtime buddy, Finn, picks up on the first ring.
“Finn, it’s me. Listen, there’s a tornado warning, and they’re saying it’s been spotted from the ground. I’m about four minutes away with a friend and two teenagers. When I knock three times, open the storm shelter!”
“Be safe and quick. I’m running out there now with Buddy.” That’s his sweet yellow Labrador Retriever.
I hang up and focus on the skyline. So far, there are no sounds hinting at a nearby tornado, and I don’t see one.
This town’s bigger than the suburb I live in, with plenty of fields surrounding it.
I just hope any funnel that forms hits the fields, not the center of town, where injuries could occur.