Chapter 31 Autumn
AUTUMN
I woke up tangled in him.
His arm draped over my waist, and his breath stirred the back of my neck with every exhale. The sheets smelled like him, skin and malt and whatever magic lived in Dom’s laundry detergent.
For a second, I just lay there. Content.
My body had caught up to something my heart had already known. Yes, I’d been loved last night in the truest sense of the word.
And then the doorbell rang.
Dom stirred behind me with a groan. His lips brushed the top of my spine. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing me once more before slipping from the bed.
I pulled the covers higher, smiling to myself. My muscles were sore in places I’d never paid attention to, but I felt euphoric. I’d finally tasted something I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to keep.
Then I heard voices, something about a delivery.
“I swear, I nearly gave up,” the man outside said. “Been trying to drop this off for weeks.”
“Sorry,” Dom replied. “I was out of town. Thanks for bringing it by.”
Curious, I eased out of bed and grabbed Dom’s shirt from the floor, pulling it over my head as I padded into the hallway. My body resisted the movement, but I didn’t mind. The ache was earned.
I found him in the other bedroom, bracing a rolled-up rug over his shoulder. He was barefoot and shirtless, his hair a mess. Perfect.
“You planning to turn the whole house into a luxury pet bed?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Dom glanced over his shoulder, smirking as he adjusted the rolled rug. “I’ve got a thing for fluff. The thicker, the better.”
“Don’t tell me there’s a polar bear rug coming next.”
“Oh, Otter.” He shook his head with mock gravity. “I draw the line at trophy hunting. Strictly anti-carnage over here.”
I grinned, but he didn’t look back this time.
He set the rug down with more care than I expected. Then his voice dropped a notch.
“I just hate flat rugs. Mats. Anything thin under my feet. Not trying to be fancy or anything, it’s just…” His voice faltered. For once, the ex-lawyer couldn’t find the words. He sighed. “It’s a thing.”
“A thing?” I echoed. Fetish? Habit? Something in between?
His posture changed, barely. But I caught the way his shoulders squared too fast, as if he had to brace for the answer.
“Flat rugs. They feel like my childhood home,” he revealed. “More than unpleasant. Let’s leave it at that.”
I didn’t press. Some doors weren’t mine to open, not yet.
So I simply wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pressing my cheek to his back. He was all tension.
“I’m sorry,” he said, catching one of my forearms. “Didn’t mean to start the morning grumpy.”
“You didn’t,” I whispered. “Not even close.”
He kept adjusting the rug. “Go back to bed if you want, Otter,” he said without looking up. “I’ll get breakfast going.”
“Actually, I should call my mom.”
He turned and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You do that.”
I turned around, about to pad out.
He added, “Tell her I fed you. And that I’m mostly house-trained.”
I turned, my hands on my hips. “PG, Dom. PG. My mom still thinks I’m a saint.”
“Not with the way you begged last night.”
Before I could fire off a comeback, he had me airborne. He swung me, then dropped me onto the rug he’d just laid down.
Then he tickled me. Full-on no-mercy tickling.
“Dom!”
I twisted and kicked and tried to breathe through the laughter, but he just grinned wider, pinning me with those unfair lawyer arms until I was a giggling heap.
When he finally let up, he pressed a kiss to my cheek and stood.
“Call your mom, angel,” he said, and smacked my ass on the way out.
I padded back toward the coffee table where I’d left my purse.
Mom and I did the usual check-in—how are you, how’s the weather, how’s the bakery. Then I asked about Lulu.
“The little panda dog is okay,” she said. “She’s missing you. She keeps staring at the front door.”
“Oh, Lulu.” I pressed my hand to my chest.
“Hang on. Here she is.”
I heard Mom in the background, coaxing Lulu closer.
“Hey, Lu? How are ya?”
She barked, and I could just picture her ears perked, her tail going wild.
Then Mom came back on the line. “Oh, and that man…Buck. Where did he even come from? He looked like he came straight out of NCIS or something.”
“Mom, you’ve got to stop watching so much TV.”
But she wasn’t totally off. Dom had flown Buck in from L.A. He said Buck was the kind of guy you called when the stakes were life and death. Reliable didn’t begin to cover it.
The man might as well have been ex-NCIS. Dom had mentioned the military once. Maybe Mom’s TV instincts weren’t so far off after all.
“He’s a good man, your Dom. You hold on to that.”
I huffed a laugh. “Mom—”
“No, listen. Men like that? They don’t just fall out of the sky. He’s smart, and he’s got your back. I bet women trip over themselves just hearing him say their name. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I glanced over at Dom in the kitchen, pulling gadgets out of cupboards. Suddenly, my assessment about him surviving on takeout felt wildly inaccurate.
“And,” she added, her tone loaded, “what was that little line about burning the world for you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just a passcode. So you’d know the NCIS guy wasn’t there to kidnap you.”
“I beg to differ, honey. You know what they say about a man willing to torch the earth for a woman.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “One step at a time, okay?”
“You’re sacrificing a lot, love. The swimming, college… Just make sure it’s worth it.”
“You know it’s not romance that’s keeping me here. Well, it is, but you know what I mean. I’m tangled up with a psycho who has a stiff neck.”
“Exactly. You’re in danger, and I’d feel better if I knew you had a six-foot-something lawyer who can throw a punch watching your back.”
I laughed. “Mom, you are relentless.”
“I just want you happy, that’s all.” A pause. “And alive. Preferably both.”
I hummed to myself. “I know, Mom.”
“Just take care, okay?”
Before I could answer, Dom had already stepped away from the kitchen. He paced the hallway, his eyes locked on his phone, his thumb scrolling. Then he turned, heading straight for me with his phone pressed to his ear.
“Hey, I’ve got to go,” I said to Mom. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Dom didn’t say much on the call, but the moment he hung up, his gaze locked onto mine.
“That was Old Hound Boone. The composite you helped with flagged someone in the system. He’s now a person of interest.”
I frowned. “Who?”
“A loner with a history of trespassing and peeping into people’s bedrooms.”
Something inside me soured fast. “Seriously?”
Dom nodded. “He’s been seen at Blodgett Pass before. Enough times to put him on their radar.”
“Okay,” I drawled, a chill creeping in at the thought of Stiff-Neck outside my window.
“Boone wants us at the station.”
I sat stiffly in front of a lineup of photos, my heart hammering as I studied them one by one. They all looked the same. How the hell was I supposed to know?
“Take your time,” Boone said.
I went through them again.
“No,” I said, my voice firm. “None of them.”
Boone watched me, his gaze assessing. “Are you sure, Miss Jones?”
“The guy, your person of interest, does he have a neck issue?”
Boone frowned. “No. But injuries heal. He fits the rest of your description. We’re using a photo array, so it’s not suggestive. Helps keep the ID clean, legally speaking. Which I’m sure your boyfriend knows.”
Dom didn’t bite.
“None of these men is him,” I said, nudging the photos away. “The man I saw was well-dressed. Put-together. I know these are mug shots, and maybe some resemble the sketch, but he wasn’t some vagrant lurking near a trail.”
Boone exhaled, his hand braced on his hip. Then he nodded. “Okay. We’ll keep looking.”
My body ached with exhaustion. Staring at photos, knowing one wrong pick could ruin a life, or let the right guy walk, was heavier than I’d expected. I was wrung out and left empty.
“Can we go now?” I sighed.
Boone nodded. “Of course.”
Dom was already at my side, his hand on my lower back as he guided me toward the exit. I leaned into him, needing his strength, needing him.
“Miss Jones.”
The voice came from behind us. I stiffened, already knowing who it was.
White Lightning Whitaker.
“Whitaker, back off,” Boone said, his tone even. “Not right now.”
Whitaker smirked. “What’s wrong, Old Hound? Getting too sentimental to slap cuffs on a pretty face?”
Boone ignored him.
I turned, meeting Whitaker’s gaze and biting back the exhaustion pressing in on me, but Dom kept pushing me forward. His grip on my waist was firm, but his body had gone rigid.
I kept walking, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Whitaker shift, settling against the doorframe. His smirk widened.
“You’re not off the hook, Miss Jones.” His tone was almost amused. “Our victim remembers you clear as day. He called you a liar with a pretty mouth.”
Dom stopped so fast that I nearly stumbled.
A second later, he turned. No hesitation, no words. Just pure, barely leashed fury.
Boone moved, stepping in before things got messy. His hand landed hard against Dom’s chest, his voice low but edged with warning. “Not worth it.”
Dom’s jaw flexed, his breathing slow but dangerous.
I reached for his arm, my fingers brushing the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “Come on, Dom. Let’s go home.”
His head tilted slightly, just enough for our eyes to meet. I saw the anger there, hot, crackling, and ready to burn. But I also saw something else. Me.
I needed him more than I needed him to fight.
Dom exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand down his face before pulling me close. He pressed a kiss to my temple. “I’m sorry, Otter,” he murmured.
I shook my head, wrapping my arms around him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Whitaker was still watching, still smirking, but I didn’t care. I let Dom lead me out of the station, keeping me close.
We walked out together. I felt like we were walking toward something good, even though Stiff-Neck still had another day to breathe free.
Besides, we weren’t alone anymore. Boone was truly on our side.