Chapter 16 Autumn
AUTUMN
One more day turned into a week, then a few more.
I kept telling myself it was temporary. Just a little more time to heal, to soak in the comfort of Buffaloberry Hill, and to be with Dom a little longer. My mother wasn’t thrilled about my ever-extending stay, but I played my trump card: I was still heartbroken and not ready to face Jimmy Van Beek.
That worked. It even earned me some sympathy.
Besides, I reassured her that I was doing light training here. God, when did I become such a good liar?
On the bright side, my calf wound had healed enough to set me loose again, confirmed by the doctor at yesterday’s check-up.
But I still hadn’t packed up. And Dom hadn’t exactly been shoving me toward the exit either. Though technically, we still slept in separate rooms.
While I was enjoying a little freedom with my own rental car, thanks to Mom’s surprise funds, Dom had finally sealed the deal on his house. This afternoon, he dragged me into helping him with the most important decision of all. Paint colors.
The place was still pretty bare, just a few pieces of furniture he’d had time to pick out. But somehow, I found myself sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, surrounded by color swatches, as if I had any real say in it.
“Green,” I declared, tapping my finger on the sample. “Not a dirty green. A bold, mossy color.”
Dom huffed a laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I think cream or ivory would be better.”
I scoffed. “Dom, we’re not in California.”
He smirked. “No?”
“No,” I said firmly. “But here’s an idea. A compromise, maybe. Moss green goes well with ivory. Warm ivory.”
“Not sure about that.”
“Wanna bet?”
His gaze flickered before he moved—fast. One second, I was sitting there, and the next, he had me pinned beneath him on the floor, his hands finding my sides in a ruthless, tickling attack.
I shrieked. “Dom, stop! I take it back!”
“Say it,” he teased, his fingers relentless. “Say cream is the superior color.”
“Never,” I gasped between laughter, writhing to escape.
His grin turned wicked. “Then I guess we settle this the old-fashioned way.”
With that, he peeled off his T-shirt and tossed it aside.
I froze.
We had been cozying up plenty and kissing enough that it didn’t feel casual anymore, but I hadn’t actually seen him like this.
Holy hell.
Montana wasn’t Florida or California. Montanan men didn’t just walk around topless. At least, I assumed they didn’t. Same with Idaho men. But Dom?
Dom was something else entirely.
I’d grown up around pool boys—lean, all smooth skin and polished muscle, and built to sell sunscreen. But Dom? He belonged in another category entirely. His was a body earned, not sculpted. No wonder he’d carried me and his pack without breaking stride.
And the hair—God, the hair. On his chest and just enough below. It shouldn’t have done things to me, but it did. Something no one had ever told me I was allowed to want.
It definitely highlighted my lack of variety.
I swallowed, suddenly parched.
He arched a brow. “What’s wrong? You look a little…distracted.”
“Distracted?” I croaked. “Pfft. No. I’m just—” My voice cracked as I gestured vaguely at his torso. “Why are you built like that?”
His grin stretched. “Like what?”
“Like…like you bench-press trees for fun.”
His laugh was deep and rich. “Maybe I do.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s cheating. You can’t just take your shirt off mid-argument. It’s dirty tactics.”
Dom braced himself on his hands. “You gonna cry foul, sweetheart?” His voice dipped, low and smooth, his face so close that I could feel his breath against my lips.
I swallowed again.
Lord help me. I was in trouble.
But the color war wasn’t over yet, and Dom finally clarified what he meant by “the old-fashioned way.”
“Race ya in the river,” he challenged.
That lit me up, or maybe made me sprout fins. “Careful what you ask for, Powell.”
He folded his arms, all casual. “If I win, it’s cream. If you win, I’ll paint it green.”
I stared at him, then at the broad expanse of his chest, then back at his face. Classic Dom. Distract and conquer. This wasn’t just any ambush; it was a topless one.
I made a show of looking around. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
I scoffed. “Hey, if you want cream, go cream. It’s your house.”
That last part didn’t come out as convincing as I’d meant it to.
Because the truth was, sitting on that floor, debating colors, something had felt real.
Aprons and making my own home-cooked meals had always been my sworn enemies, but somehow the idea of standing barefoot in that kitchen and brewing coffee while Dom wandered in, still groggy from sleep—
No. Stop.
I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.
Like, come on! I’d just seen him topless for the first time today. That told me we weren’t in the “domestic bliss” zone yet. Heck, not even the love zone. We’d just been fooling around in the gray area between the kissing zone and the friend zone.
Dom didn’t budge. “Come on. Humor me.”
I eyed him warily. “You just want an excuse to get me in the water.”
His grin widened. “And?”
Between my near-constant craving for the water and the ridiculous chicken dance he was pulling right now, I wanted that race badly.
Besides, this totally counted as training. The river was way tougher than a pool, nature’s version of resistance training. And Dom was worse than hostile spectators. If I could keep my focus with him smirking at me half-naked, I could handle anything.
There. I hadn’t lied to my mother.
I huffed. “Fine. But I don’t have a bikini.”
“Neither do I.”
I rolled my eyes, but I still stripped down to my tank top and shorts before following him outside.
The river was across the park, nestled between thick trees, and the water caught the glow of afternoon light. Lulu trotted alongside us but stopped short when we reached the bank, sniffing at the edge before giving me a look that screamed I am not built for this.
Dom laughed. “Looks like she’s sitting this one out.”
“She can be the referee,” I decided.
“She’s not even watching.”
Lulu had, in fact, already turned away. She was far more interested in whatever was happening up the hill than our little showdown.
Dom smirked. “Guess we’ll have to call it fair then.”
I scoffed. “Someone’s planning to cheat.”
He grinned but said nothing, which meant I was absolutely right.
As we lined up at the edge, the river called to me loud and clear.
“On three,” Dom said.
I flexed my fingers, my muscles coiling in anticipation.
“One…two—”
I jumped.
“Hey!” he yelled, but by the time he hit the water, I was already cutting through it, my body remembering the countless hours I’d spent swimming in pools.
Dom was strong, and he had endurance. But speed? That was my game.
I reached the opposite bank before he even got close.
Panting, I whipped around just as he surfaced, shaking water from his hair and blinking in disbelief.
I beamed. “Guess it’s moss green.”
Dom just stared at me, then dragged a hand down his face, water trickling from his jaw. “Okay, that was—” He exhaled. “You’re fast.”
“Damn right.” I flicked water at him for good measure.
Still dazed, he waded toward me, his brow furrowed like I was some undiscovered species. Then, with absolute sincerity, he said, “You’re a freak, Otter.”
I snorted. “What?”
Otter?
Huh. Autumn the Otter. Why had no one thought of that before? I’d take it over Sleeping Beauty any day. And coming from Dom? It wasn’t just a nickname. It was a gold medal.
“I’m serious.” His mouth twitched. “One second, you were right there, and then, poof.” He wiggled his fingers. “You Houdini’d into the current.”
“Wait till you see my backstroke.”
“Oh, we’ve got a backstroking otter now? New subspecies?”
I tossed him a proud smirk. “Nice to be nicknamed for talent, not just cheekbones.”
“Who says it’s about talent?”
I glared at him.
He scrunched his nose, puffed out his cheeks, and mimed whiskers with his fingers. “You’re cute. Actual otter cute. That’s why.”
I choked on a laugh at that pitiful impression.
An ex-lawyer making that face? Please. I was just about to give him my otter-style bite-back when he lunged, caught me by the waist, and yanked me under.
My shriek was lost in the splash as I hit the water.
When I surfaced, Dom was right there, his arms bracketing me in the river, his chest brushing mine. And suddenly, the playful edge between us took a turn.
There was something in his eyes. He had me, and he knew it. But even with that power, he didn’t seem sure he’d get to keep what he’d barely begun to hold.
It floored me.
He looked like a man with the whole universe within reach. Yet, he already believed I would slip away.
His hand pressed lightly to my back, barely there, just enough to keep us from being pulled apart. But it scorched straight through the fabric of my tank top.
The water rippled around us as we emerged. Droplets clung to his hair, and his wet fringe covered half of his face. Vulnerability had no business being that beautiful.
Then his gaze dropped to my mouth.
And just like that, I forgot about paint colors, bets, and who had won.