Chapter 18 Autumn
AUTUMN
Dom took me to the pizzeria, and it messed with my guard.
Not because I couldn’t shake the man Lulu had barked at, but because of how easy this was. How natural it felt.
Fredo, the owner, met us at the door. He had that old-country energy, all animated hands and charm that didn’t try too hard. He said he’d lived everywhere, from Naples to Rome, then Florida, before somehow choosing Buffaloberry Hill over all of them.
“Too many people in the big places. Here, I know who burned the crust and who burned their marriage,” he said with a laugh that made it impossible not to like him.
We sat in a corner booth, tucked away from the chatter drifting through the room and the occasional ding of the order bell.
The air was filled with the scent of melted mozzarella, garlic, and oregano.
Quirky art covered the walls—vintage tomato-sauce ads, a framed jersey signed by someone no one had heard of, and a crooked wooden sign that read Peace, Love, and Pepperoni.
Dom’s knee brushed mine beneath the table, and every so often, his hand slid down to trace circles over my thigh.
Then he stole my straw and sipped my lemonade, smirking like he was getting away with something.
I nudged his foot, and he caught my ankle between his.
It was not just playful touches, not just passing heat.
It was something more.
Something that made me wonder if this wasn’t just a fling. If we weren’t fooling around in that undefined space between friends and lovers.
He’d said it. He wanted me.
And for goodness’ sake, we’d talked about colors for his house. That wasn’t the kind of thing you discussed with someone temporary.
Then there was what he’d done to me in the river.
I wasn’t new to kissing. But letting someone explore me like that—really know my body? That was different.
And somehow, it hadn’t felt terrifying.
His hands had moved over me like he already knew the shape of me, memorizing and worshipping. He didn’t stall, didn’t fumble. He just felt. Confident and sure.
And I let him.
That was the most shocking part.
I pressed my fingers to my neck.
Dom smirked at the bite mark. “It looks good on you.”
I was probably blushing now. Because that had started everything else. My nipples tightened, and my core throbbed with little pulses that refused to fade. Apparently, water and romance mixed all too well.
“I like wearing it,” I replied.
But it was more than that one bite. There was one moment—one stroke.
I’d never let anyone get close to the place I’d only touched in secret. Never wanted to. It was a spot no one had ever earned before. But with him, it hadn’t just felt okay. It felt divine.
And yet, nothing more had happened.
Because my body and mind hadn’t been in sync, like a swimmer with a perfect dive but mistimed strokes. I’d wanted him, deeply, hungrily, but the second his fingers grazed me, I tensed. Just enough to break the rhythm.
It was so slight that no one else would’ve noticed.
But he had.
Before I could even register the hesitation myself, he’d stopped. No questions, no frustration, and no awkward silence pressing me to explain.
He’d just known.
And that, that, unraveled me more than any touch ever could.
“There it is,” he said, rubbing his palms together as our pizzas landed in front of us. He looked so blindingly pleased, like a schoolboy who found out pizza counts as a vegetable. Nothing like a high-powered lawyer.
The slices were huge and folded over themselves, the kind you had to eat with both hands or a serious lack of dignity.
I picked up one and took a bite. It was delicious, with a crispy crust, gooey cheese, and that perfect hit of basil. I made it through a couple of slices before setting the rest down with a groan.
Dom grinned at me over the rim of his glass. “Tapping out already?”
“Don’t judge me. These things are enormous.”
“I’m not judging. I’m impressed. That was a solid effort.”
He kept stealing sips of my lemonade, and he even fed me the last bite of his crust.
His plate? Wiped clean.
Mine? Still enough left to box up and feed a second customer.
“Hey, next time, how about dinner with my Buffaloberry crew?”
“Sure. Logan’s one of them, right? The guy who picked us up from that village?”
“Yeah. Logan will be there. And the Lucases. Good people. No pressure, and no giant slices, I promise.”
“Cool,” I said, and I meant it.
Dom glanced out the window, suddenly alert.
“Mind if I catch that guy real quick? He’s slippery as a wolverine.”
“Go ahead.”
He slid out of the booth and jogged after an older man heading for his car.
I swirled my lemonade, replaying the invitation in my head. Dinner with his friends. It didn’t scream a date-date. No big signals, no hidden meanings. Just a peek into his world. The kind of gesture that made me wonder if Dom often opened doors like that, or if this was new for him, too.
The pizzeria door chimed, and a man in uniform walked in.
I ducked my head.
But why? I wasn’t a criminal. However, just seeing a deputy sharing the same space, my body told a different story—my shoulders tight, pulse erratic, and the crawling sense that I might be expected to report something.
“Evening, Erin,” the deputy sheriff greeted the woman behind the counter. He held up a poster. “Mind putting this up?”
I stole a glance at the counter, keeping my head bowed.
Have you seen this person?
She folded a dishtowel and set it next to the coffee machine. “Sure. What happened?”
“Can’t say much. Incident up north. Blodgett Pass.”
“Oh, that’s not good.” She studied the poster, then let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, I hope I’m in the clear.” She lifted the sketch beside her face with a smirk.
“She looked nothing like you, Erin,” he said.
A cold weight landed in my gut.
The drawing wasn’t perfect, having a sharper nose and a slightly off chin, but the resemblance was clear.
Someone had tried to recreate me.
Son of a bitch.
A creeping awareness crawled up my spine as the deputy and Erin kept chatting.
My first instinct not to report anything to the authorities had been right. Stiff-Neck was not your average criminal. He had power, connections. That sketch wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t bad luck or an eerie lookalike at the wrong place, wrong time.
And that stranger Lulu had barked at?
I gripped the edge of the table, my fingers numb. The pieces snapped into place.
Stiff-Neck had made his move. He was here.
And he was framing me. This wasn’t just about getting me arrested. He wanted the public to find me for him.
I tugged my hair tie loose, letting my bangs fall forward, shielding most of my face. The pizzeria felt too open, the lights beating down so hard that even tucked into a booth, I might as well have been on a stage.
The deputy thanked Erin, who promised she’d put up the poster soon.
Then he left.
I didn’t think he saw me.
This was my cue. I had to go.
Leave this town.
Leave Dom.
Before someone recognized me.
I braced my hands on the table, ready to stand. But Dom had come back.
“Everything okay?”
My head snapped up. He stood next to me, his eyes warm and oblivious.
Be cool.
“You okay?” he pressed, scanning my face. “The pizza was really too much, huh?”
“Ah, yeah.” My voice wobbled, but I covered it with a laugh. “Tiny stomach.”
He smiled at my half-baked joke, but his gaze flicked to my loose hair.
“You should loosen your jeans, not your hair tie,” he teased.
I forced a chuckle. “You’re right. I just have a bit of a headache.”
The lie came easily. And Dom, being Dom, didn’t question it. Instead, he went full nurse mode, pulling me in, his palm pressing lightly to my forehead.
“You want something for it?”
I shook my head. “I’m good.”
He let it go, just like that.
This is messed up.
If I didn’t move fast, if I didn’t get out, he’d be asking a whole lot more soon.
I composed myself. “So, who was that?”
Dom sat back down. “That was Bill,” he said, nodding toward the man now easing into a beat-up pickup.
“One of the dinner crowd?”
“Not exactly. I just met him. Word is he’s selling his fishing shop.”
“Oh?” I arched a brow. “Let me guess, keeping the otter theme alive?”
That earned me a full laugh.
“An otter’s gotta fish, right?” He shook his head, still grinning. “God, that’s terrible. You’re rubbing off on me.”
I laughed too, my shoulders relaxing.
“So, do you think the fishing shop’s a good idea?” he asked.
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking for my blessing?”
He scratched the back of his neck, already looking like he regretted opening his mouth. “Forget it,” he said, followed by a quick rap of his knuckle on the table. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”
He got my leftover pizza boxed up, with Erin helping him and flashing a smile at both of us.
Maybe noticing me more than she meant to.
Then, he dropped some cash on the check.
I slid out after him, leaving my half-finished lemonade behind, along with the flutter in my chest that I didn’t have time for.
Because no matter how good he was, or how much I liked the idea of him asking me things that sounded a little too much like us, I couldn’t forget that Stiff-Neck was still out there. And now, I knew he’d made his move. That sketch.
I hadn’t even had time to process it. I just knew I couldn’t let Dom get caught in this.
Even if part of me wanted to ask what color he’d paint the walls of that fishing shop.
Lulu hadn’t been allowed inside the pizzeria, so we’d tied her up out front in the shade, with Dom checking on her every so often.
But when we stepped outside, she didn’t get up to greet us. Normally, she would’ve been all over Dom. Instead, she barely lifted her head, her ears twitching at his voice, but nothing more.
“Lulu?” I crouched beside her, running a hand down her side. She felt unnaturally warm.
Dom frowned, untying her leash. “She doesn’t look good.”
“She was fine this morning. Did the stranger give her anything?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
My heart pounded. Something was really wrong.
Lulu let out a pitiful whine while Dom was already moving.
“Come on,” he said, scooping her up. “We’re going to the vet.”