Page 80 of 4th Degree

That scared look is back in her eyes. “Dominic…”

I place my hand on her lower back and nudge her toward the exit. “Well, I can’t exactly call this a date if I don’t pay, can I?”

And once again, my honesty and forwardness win me the battle with her. That starstruck look is back in her eyes, and she lets me guide her outside.

When we get to my car, I reach for the passenger door. But she stops me before I open it, turning to face me. I don’t need to rack my brain for another excuse to keep her with me, because she makes the decision for us.

Going up on her toes, she presses her mouth to mine. It’s a quick kiss, and it doesn’t give me enough time to press her back against my car so I can take, but her next words ratchet the heat between us in a whole other way.

“So, if it’s a date, does that mean you’re going to invite me back to your place?”

28

SKYLAR

I’m not sure what I expected walking into Dominic’s home, but I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s a plain one-bedroom loft apartment. Nothing about it screams bachelor pad. There’s no pool table and no pizza boxes left out—in fact, the space is noticeably neat. The two things that stand out the most are the big kitchen and the even bigger, very comfy-looking couch.

I smother the urge to dive headfirst into the cushions that look soft as a cloud, and instead take a seat as Dominic walks into the kitchen. Brutus happily plods over to me for some scratches as I take my time looking around the open space.

“How do you feel about some dessert?” Dominic asks from the kitchen. “I’ve got a new flavor of ice cream that I’ve been dying to try. Do you want some? Or just some water?”

“Ice cream sounds good,” I say distractedly, taking in every detail of his space.

I hear ceramics clinking as Dominic reaches into the cupboard. “I can see the thoughts running through your head right now,” he says. “Is this what a thirty-six-year-old divorcé’s home is supposed to look like?”

“My life experience with thirty-six-year-old divorcés is admittedly kind of limited. But my experience with you says this is exactly what it’s supposed to look like. Clean. Simple. Biggest TV money can buy.”

He chuckles. “Guilty. The only thing I spend time doing in my apartment is cooking, sleeping, and watching fights. A big TV was a necessity.”

I chew on my bottom lip as I contemplate my next question. But I figure if he’s letting me into his home, we’re close enough that I can at least ask.

“That’s all you do here?” I ask. He cuts me a confused look as he pulls the ice cream out of the freezer. “Typically, a bachelor pad veers a little more toward female comfort. I can picture the ladies being a big fan of the loft aesthetic.”

He grins when he realizes what I’m getting at, scooping the ice cream from the gallon container. “It’s been a while since I’ve concerned myself with female comfort. I can’t remember the last time I even had anyone over. But well done on the sleuthing.”

I let out a huff of laughter as I go back to petting Brutus. “Can’t blame a girl for asking.”

Dominic rounds the couch, two bowls clutched in his hand. He gives me one, then takes a seat beside me. Before he starts in on his ice cream, he reaches for the remote and turns on the UFC fight card that’s live right now.

They’re in the middle of a fight, so for the next few minutes, we just watch and eat our ice cream, the silence a comfortable one.

I take another bite as the fight finishes. With a groan of approval, I say, “You’re right, that coffee chip hit the spot. This is so good.”

Dominic places his bowl on the table. “As soon as the waitress said milkshakes at the restaurant, I started thinking about how I had this in my freezer.” When he leans back in his seat, I’m a little disappointed that he doesn’t make any move to touch me.

“I think this might be my favorite kind of Saturday night,” I muse. “Ice cream and watching fights? Literal paradise.”

Dominic sends me a lazy smile. “This is my every Saturday night, so I never really thought about it. But I can’t imagine doing anything else, so yeah, I don’t know what would be better.” Stretching his arm across the back of the couch, he shifts his body to face me. “You should work it into that airtight schedule of yours. I bet a night off watching fights would do wonders for your stress levels.”

Despite how nice today was, and how much I enjoyed essentially playing hooky with Dominic…it’s never going to be my norm.

I send Dominic a tight smile and try to make light of the situation. “But then who would serve food to the couples on their once-a-month date night?”

He sees right through it, of course. He studies me for a moment before saying thoughtfully, “You’re going to treat today as a one-off, aren’t you?” I push around the last bit of melting ice cream in my bowl so I don’t have to respond.

“How about this,” he says, taking the bowl from my hand and setting it on the coffee table. When he shifts to give me his full attention, he also forces mine to be on him by pulling my feet into his lap. “Tell me one big thing and one little thing that you’d like to be able to do, and we’ll see what we can do to make them more likely to happen in your day-to-day life. What do you think?”

It takes a second, but I nod. “Okay.”

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