Chapter 25 Dom
DOM
I arrived early at The Rustler’s Grill from my hotel and chose a table near the stone fireplace.
It was on, despite it being summer. Ambience, I figured.
The place leaned into its western charm, with stacked stone walls, dark wood beams, and backlit shelves behind the bar showcasing whiskey bottles.
The ceiling was high, coffered with warm lighting tucked into the recesses.
I checked my watch. Any second now.
And damn.
Blame it on a sixth sense for dramatic timing. Autumn walked in.
Every male head around me turned, discreetly or otherwise.
She wore a dark dress, and it was sleek, hugging every inch of her. A slit cut up the side revealed her legs, long and bare, one step at a time. And those red heels were a far cry from the hiking boots she’d stomped around in when we first met. Now they made me wish she’d never owned anything else.
Her hair was swept up, a few strands slipping loose to frame her face and draw out the color in her eyes, eyes that already had me undone.
Then came her scent. Warm, a little sweet, and unmistakably her. It drifted toward me just before she did, and suddenly, I wasn’t a man in a restaurant anymore.
I was a man about to lose every bit of sense I had.
I didn’t let her make it to the table. I crossed the room, my hand already finding her waist as I tugged her close and pressed a kiss to her lips, right there in front of everyone.
She barely got a breath in before I deepened it, my fingers pressing into the dip of her spine. She tasted like something I could get addicted to. Actually, something I already was.
When I pulled back, her eyes were wide, her lips parted.
I smirked. “Well. Didn’t you scrub up well,” I murmured in her ear, repeating exactly what I’d said the first time I’d seen her in a dress.
Back then, I’d had no clue what to say. The first time my lawyer tongue had ever failed me, and the best I could manage was a cliché. She’d laughed, probably thinking I was a little hopeless.
This time, it was different. This time, it was a memory I wanted to relive. A fond reminisce of every moment that had stayed with me. Every single one.
Her lips curled. “Not bad yourself.”
I pulled out her chair and helped her slip off her coat, every gentlemanly gesture ingrained in me from years of good manners and the fact that I’d do anything for her.
I signaled the waiter and ordered a bottle of wine before settling in.
“So.” I leaned back, watching her with amusement. “Escaping through the roof. That your thing?”
She laughed, her eyes shining. “Hard habits die hard. Or maybe I just haven’t grown up yet.”
I shook my head. “You were a ninja. Seriously.”
She smirked, taking a sip of wine. “Well, I was a gymnast.”
“That explains it,” I said, leaning forward. “And great to see you’re still wearing the T-shirt I gave you.”
Her brows lifted. “Oh?”
“I’ve still got the matching one. Haven’t worn it in a while though.”
“You should. It makes a great pajama top.”
My brain took a nosedive straight to bed.
Dammit.
Other guests filtered into the restaurant—a large family first, then a younger couple trailing behind.
Autumn’s expression shifted just slightly as she lifted a hand in greeting.
The girl gave a polite nod. But the guy? He looked at us like we’d risen from the grave.
“Who’s that?” I asked, casually sliding my hand over hers on the table.
“Oh, college friends,” she said. “We were all on the same swimming squad.”
I smirked. “No wonder you smashed me in the river.”
She grinned, lifting her glass. “Unfair advantage, I guess.”
“Otter,” I murmured, testing the nickname on my tongue again. God, I’d missed saying it. I reached up, cupping her cheek, my thumb grazing over skin that was smooth and a little flushed.
She leaned into it.
“And who might that guy be?” I asked, my gaze flicking toward the one still stealing glances at us.
“That’s Jimmy, and that’s his girlfriend Julia.”
“Jimmy,” I repeated, watching him stiffen when our eyes met. “You two had history?”
Autumn’s lips twitched. “Dom, are you jealous?”
“No.” I gave her a look. “I just want to know why he looks bitey.”
She snorted. “Bitey?”
“He’s about to gnash his teeth.”
She leaned back, shaking her head. “Well, he’s an ex.”
“Huh! So there was a sturgeon.”
She snorted. “We broke up right before my hike that day. He stood me up.”
I raised a brow. “Bottom-feeding. Ancient.”
“A little salty,” she completed it.
“Otter, standing you up was a little more than salty! It was fermented seaweed rude.”
Autumn clapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Dom, that’s vile.”
I took a sip of wine. “But accurate.”
I gave the sturgeon another look. Okay, so he didn’t actually look like one. But I’d figured Autumn might’ve once gone for a golden boy with broad shoulders and biceps for days, and I hadn’t been wrong. The traps were there. The shine too. Just…there was no class.
“Want me to go teach him some manners?”
She reached for my hand, her eyes crinkling. “I’m over it, I swear. Zen as a monk now.”
I smirked. “He obviously isn’t.”
“Because he knows I’ve traded up,” she said wickedly.
“So you said you two go to college together?”
She smiled. “Didn’t know I had a thing for jealous guys. But you make it feel kinda good.”
“Hey, I’m just being thorough.”
“Fine. Yes. Same college. He’s a Psych major, I’m in Phys Ed.”
“Physical education? Phew! I’d be lucky to be in your class,” Dom said.
“At least I’ll be teaching the real thing.” She tapped her temple. “Physical’s just the label.”
“Mind over matter, huh?”
“Yep. Trusting yourself is a big part of it. And sometimes that means trusting a stranger. It doesn’t always end in tragedy despite what everyone thinks,” she quipped.
“You’ll make a hell of a teacher,” I said. “Or coach.”
Just then, our meals arrived—two perfectly seared medium-rare steaks, plated with all the trimmings.
I cut into mine, took a bite, then nodded in approval. “You really know how to pick a place.”
She smiled, spearing a bite of her own. “You like it?”
“Yeah. But I’d eat canned soup if it meant sitting across from you.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the way her cheeks flushed.
We ate in small bites, mostly in silence, until I finally caved.
“Otter,” I said, resting my forearms on the table. “Tell me if I’m reaching, but sometimes I wonder if I’m too far ahead in the timeline for you.”
“Twelve years. No kidding,” she said, as if the number had only just hit her ears out loud.
And just like that, I heard the ticking clock. Not from my smartwatch, but from my damn heart.
I went on, “You’re young. And amazing. And I’m…well, I’ve got more past than future some days. That ever bug you?”
She slanted her face. “Why? What, being at my place gave you flashbacks to dating college girls with curfews? Or are you still rattled by the sturgeon who’s not so ancient after all?”
“Dang. You nailed me,” I said. “Though, to be fair, my college girlfriends never shimmied out a window and sprinted across a roof.”
She grinned. “There’s a first for everything. And I stuck the landing. Admit it.”
“I’ll give you points for style,” I said, stopping when she set her fork down and reached across the table.
“My type is a man, not a boy. I established that the moment you hauled me up that hill and told me I was safe.”
Her fingers laced through mine. God, I wanted to say it. Everything.
But still, wrong time, wrong place. Nothing kills a first date faster than a conversation about wedding bells and babies with a twenty-one-year-old.
And if this ever became something real, I’d wait. No pressure. No clock. Just her, when she was ready.
“You sure?” I asked. “One day, you might look back and think—”
“That I was smart?” she cut in. “Trust me, once you’ve paced around calling someone six times and convincing yourself they’ve been mauled by a bear, only to find out they just didn’t feel like answering? You stop craving boys.”
I huffed out a breath, caught somewhere between laughter and disbelief. “You really don’t worry about it?”
She squeezed my hand. “I’d worry more if you weren’t in my life. That’s the part that’d keep me up at night.”
I looked at her across the candlelight. There was no fear in her eyes. Just conviction and a little bit of challenge.
“And your mom?” I asked. “She okay with, well…us?”
“Dom, she was practically smitten with you. If you’d offered to do her taxes, she might’ve proposed on my behalf.”
I smiled. “Well, tax isn’t my specialty. But smitten is good. How about your dad?”
She shrugged lightly, still holding my hand. “They divorced years ago. They’re both pretty independent. I was surprised they got married in the first place. But that was their story, and they’ve stayed close. And he trusts Mom’s read on people. So yeah, my choice is his choice.”
“Good to hear,” I murmured.
She had a great family. It showed in the little things, like how she trusted easily and laughed like the world had never hurt her. That kind of foundation didn’t build itself. She’s been loved right.
We let the meal stretch longer than it needed to. She sipped her water between her wine like someone who’d learned to take care of herself early. Maybe it was the trail incident still echoing in her somewhere, never again without water. Or maybe it’s just who she was. Disciplined and thoughtful.
Then she asked, “How about your parents?”
I took a sip of water. “Same. Divorced.”
I flagged down the waiter and asked for the dessert menu.
Autumn cocked her head a little.
“So, your house now,” I asked, “did you grow up there?”
She nodded. “I did. Born and raised there. I mean, my Mom believed in home birth and all. I was born in a tub, but let’s be clear, I didn’t swim out. River otters need lessons, and I was no prodigy.”
I laughed at her remark while she scrunched her nose and did her best otter impression. Hers was cuter than mine, no contest.
But it wasn’t just a joke. Her answer came wrapped in something more than just puckered whiskers and a cheeky grin.
It was contentment, the kind most people spend a lifetime searching for.
She already had it. You could hear it in her voice and see it in the way her shoulders eased.
Home had never been a place she had to escape from.
“When Dad left, it was hard,” she added.
“But they figured it out. They still talk, and he visits. They just couldn’t live under one roof.
It wasn’t anger. Just lives that never quite lined up.
” She paused, then added, “Love’s strange like that, isn’t it?
Sometimes it works better with space in between. ”
That pressed into a spot I usually kept guarded. It was not jealousy, just the ache of knowing I’d never had anything close.
When the dessert menu arrived, I asked, “Wanna split something?”
She tilted her head. “Only if you tell me why you twitched just now.”
So she was watching me, not just my words, but the tells.
I could’ve dodged, made a joke, or pointed out the age gap and played the worldly man card. But the truth pressed too close.
“My parents’ divorce wasn’t amicable,” I said. “Home wasn’t where the heart was. It was where it got torn apart.”
The words just sat there, heavy and blunt.
Autumn reached for my hand and ran her thumb over my knuckles.
“I’ve never known that kind of pain,” she said. “But if love leaves a mark, then hurt does too.”
My throat worked around something that felt like grief and grace. I started with the shallow end.
“My father’s a lawyer too. They call him the Tiger of L.A.”
Her brow lifted. “Because he’s fierce?”
“Because he’s vicious,” I said. “He taught me how to fight. How to win. But never how to stop. Never how to care.” I met her gaze and held it. “I need you to hear this, Autumn. I’m not him. I would never, will never, hurt you.”
Her grip tightened. “You’re your parents’ son, but you’re not the pattern they left behind. Everything you do is you choosing to be better than what you saw. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
The pressure in my chest cracked.
“You make me feel safe,” she added. “Nothing can touch me when I’m near you.”
I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it once. Then, again. I didn’t care if people were watching.
“Take a walk with me?” I asked.
Because if I stayed at that table another second, I might just tell her I love her.