Page 152 of The Blame Game

“Fair. I guess your SUV works better for that.”

“It does. And I’m way less pissed off if someone pukes in it.” With a laugh, Dom carefully pulled onto the street.

Laughing too, Shea asked, “Do you ever take this beauty out on a track?”

Dom grinned. “I do. Why, you wanna go out sometime?”

“Hell yeah.” Shea’s eyes gleamed. “What’ll it take to get you to let me drive it?”

“Well, you could try asking.” Dom came to a stop at a red light.

“Really?” Tone surprised, Shea rested a hand on Dom’s arm.

“I trust you with all of my secrets,” Dom said softly, glancing over. “Why wouldn’t I trust you with my car?”

Behind them, someone honked, and Dom returned his gaze to the street where the light had turned green.

Shea was silent, but he slid his hand to Dom’s thigh, squeezing once.

They were both quiet on the ride to the restaurant, where Dom tossed his keys over to the valet, then escorted Shea into the building.

He grazed his fingertips along the small of Shea’s back, trying not to stare.

He looked so fucking good tonight.

He had on a slim-cut black suit with a white tee underneath. It had a low scoop, just enough to show off a hint of his pecs, and it made Dom’s mouth water.

The restaurant was packed and several people waiting for tables shot them sidelong glances as they edged their way through the entryway and into the short line.

“I still can’t believe you got us in here,” Shea murmured, glancing around as they waited to check in with the hostess.

Dom smiled. “I know people.”

Shea looked amused. “Apparently.”

Honestly, there was no way Dom could have managed to get into a trendy place like this on a weekend when they were booked out for months.

But on a weeknight? Yeah, he’d been able to wrangle them a table.

Said table was in the center of the restaurant and as Dom took his seat across from Shea, he felt a funny little jolt in the pit of his stomach.

He was a forty-year-old man and this was the first real date he’d ever had. Although, was it real?

He wanted it to be real.

“Truthfully, the owner has season tickets,” Dom explained after the waiter had given them menus and left. “And he likes when the team comes here. It’s good for business.”

“Makes sense.”

“The food is incredible too though,” Dom admitted.

Shea glanced down at his menu. “It looks like it.”

It didn’t take them long to decide and they ordered a plate of oysters to split, individual salads, and a glass of wine each.

When the oysters and wine arrived, Shea leaned forward. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you ever talk to your teammates about things to keep yourself occupied while you’re on IR?”

“I did, actually,” Dom said. “Most of them were no help whatsoever but I reached out to a couple of retired guys too.”

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