Chapter Twenty-Three
Bella
The closer I get to Dominic’s house, the harder my stomach churns. Will he ignore me? Pretend like nothing has changed? Correct my statement that it was a mistake? I shake my head and flip on the blinker.
Mrs. Walker waves from her front porch at the end of their street. I’ve known her since I was in first grade, and she took over as librarian for the town. I slow to a stop and roll down the window.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Walker.”
“Afternoon, Bella.” She lifts her watering can and pours a steady stream of water into a hanging pot of pink and purple petunias. “Going to the game?”
Mrs. Walker’s house is the epitome of small-town living. It has a wide front porch, hanging baskets of flowers, potted plants on the steps, and a porch swing so she can keep an eye on the neighborhood.
“Of course.” It’s impossible not to adore the woman. She loves books and flowers. What’s not to love? “Are you?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She smiles and drops her arm to her side, causing the watering can to swing with her motion. “Headed to your brothers’ place?”
“Yes.” I nod as the momentary reprieve from the dread of seeing Dominic again smacks me in the gut once again. “Taking dinner to them.” My halfhearted chuckle sounds forced and stilted. “Mom thinks they can’t cook for themselves.”
“I’ve heard your brother, Ben, is a pretty good cook.”
“He is, but after work, he’s usually too tired to cook. Besides, by the time the game gets over, they’re going to be starving.” I smile despite the worry surrounding me. “Mom loves to spoil her boys.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Walker nods. “She sure does, and that begs the question, which of those boys will you marry and make your momma a grandma with? My money is on Dominic.”
“What?” I choke and cough as Mrs. Martin strolls up to us, stopping to join in on the conversation.
“Oh, that Dominic is a doll.” Mrs. Martin’s poodle settles at her feet and stares at me, his tongue flapping as he pants.
This can’t be happening. Seriously.
“I heard through the grapevine that he took you home last night, and he didn’t pull into the driveway until after one o’clock.” She shrugs as her cheeks tinge pink. “I wasn’t stalking him or anything. My back was acting up, so I got up to walk around the living room and saw the lights. His exhaust has a distinctive sound.”
“Yeah, well….” I put my finger on the window button. “I’ve got to get going.”
“Mrs. Thompson called and said that Dominic pulled into your driveway at eleven and didn’t leave until well after midnight.” Mrs. Martin tilts her head and pins me with a stare.
Jesus. This is horrible. Sweat breaks out on my forehead. Why did we go to my house? It wasn’t any more private than if we’d stopped in his driveway and screwed in the bed of his pickup under a streetlight. I’m never going to live this down.
“It wasn’t a big deal. A guy was giving me a hard time at the bar, and Dominic drove me home. He came in because he wanted to ensure I was safe, and then we talked for a few minutes.” By now, my face is as pink as the petunias in the pot.
“That’s so sweet. Such a respectful boy and good-looking, too. He’s such a good catch. And the babies….” Mrs. Walker clutches her chest. “You’d make such pretty babies together. With your hair color and Dominic’s eyes.”
“You’re so right.”
I slide the window up because nothing good will come from this conversation and pull back onto the street.
Two houses down, I pull into Dominic’s driveway. His pickup is gone. My heart sinks. His pickup is never gone on the afternoon of a football game since the guys moved in together. He’s always been here when I drop off Mom’s care package.
I shift into park and groan. Last night was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. If I’m not dating him, I’m a disappointment and a floozy. And if I am dating him–yeah, I’m not dating him. It takes two people to make a relationship.
I’ve got to tell him that everyone knows we were together last night. Not together, but together. But boy, do they suspect we were together, together. We’ve got to figure out how to handle damage control in this situation.
And he’s already avoiding me.
I grab the warm food containers as Xavier opens the front door and waves me inside. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.”
“Here.” He rushes down the steps and grabs the pans out of my hands. “Let me get those.”
“I’d better go.” I snatch my car door back open.
His eyes narrow into slits. But one blink later, his expression shifts to an open smile. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Uh, sure.” I shuffle from foot to foot. Xavier has never asked me for a favor, but he’s gone out of his way to help me when I needed it. It would be rude to not return the favor. “What do you need?”
“Come inside. I need you to get something for me.”
I follow behind him. Xavier is wearing last year’s state football championship T-shirt and shorts. As he strides toward the front door, the muscles in his back shift with his movements. Why didn’t I fall for him? It would’ve been easier.
Once we’re in the kitchen, Xavier gnaws on his bottom lip. “One second.” He grabs his phone and a set of keys. “Hold tight.” He rushes out of sight as his feet pad up the stairs.
What in the fuck? They say girls are cryptic.
Moments later, he stops in front of me and gives me a sheepish look. “Can you grab Dom’s championship hat from his closet and take it to the football field?”
“What?” I wrinkle my nose. That makes no sense. He was just upstairs. Why didn’t he grab it, and why do I need to take it to him?
“Grab Dom’s hat and take it to him.” His gaze shifts to the wall behind me as if he’s preoccupied with something. “He had to drop Levi off at the field.” He lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “He forgot his hat, and he’s getting a headache. You know, it’s sunny out today. Anyway, I can’t leave yet, and it’s on your way. Don’t make this into a big deal.” He meets my gaze and arches his eyebrows while crossing his arms over his chest. “Unless it’s a big deal?”
“No.” Whatever. I’ve got to see him anyway. “I’ll get it and take it to him.”
“Perfect.” The corners of Xavier’s mouth rise into a grin, but then, as if he remembered something, his expression shifts to a frown. “I appreciate it.”
What in the fuck is wrong with him? I growl under my breath as I jog up the stairs. My heart bangs in my chest as I pull open the door. It smells like him. My head spins as desire curls low in my belly. His room is clean. Neat and tidy. Bed made. The clothes he wore last night dropped carelessly on the floor.
I haven’t been in Dominic’s room for years. Not since the day they moved in. It feels wicked and forbidden. After I snap the door shut, I trace my hand over the blue comforter. Why can’t life be easy? Why can’t he feel the same stumbling of heartbeats and fluttering of butterflies whenever he sees me?
You’re here for a reason. Stop drooling in his room. Get the hat. And get out of here.
I stomp to the closet and yank open the door. A gasp escapes my lips. The closet is a walk-in style design, but instead of being stuffed with clothes, it’s filled with painting supplies, tripods, and canvases.
Everywhere in the room are paintings and drawings. And more than a few of them are of me.
My hand shakes as I approach the closest one and run my fingertip along the top frame. He had to have drawn this one last night. It’s me in all my naked glory on my parents’ sofa.
I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s stunning. The intimacy. The details. The lust in my eyes. Jesus. I shudder from head to toe. This is crazy. I bite my lips together and clutch my chest as I spin, taking in the rest of the drawings.