Page 9 of Rugged Soul

“Domino,” I whisper, unable to find my voice at the moment.

“Good girl,” he growls.

My mouth drops open at his words and Domino’s eyes fixate on my lips. Did he really just call me a good girl? More importantly, did I just soak my freaking panties?

“The property,” Domino says, clearing his throat and turning his back to me.

What the hell was that? And how can I get him to do it again?

“Y-yes,” I stutter out. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I shove all the emotions, questions, and confusing sensations down, down, down, and focus on landing this sale. “This is the one,” I say with more confidence.

“You sound pretty sure about that,” Domino says, looking at me over his shoulder as I walk toward him. “I’m a president, remember. With very particular tastes.”

I can’t help the giggle bubbling up from my chest. He’s quoting my text from the other day. I’m surprised he remembered. Truthfully, I was embarrassed after I hit send. Why did I tell him what I was wearing? Who does that? When he didn’t respond, I put my hood on and pulled the strings tight so only a little hole was left for me to peek through. It felt safer.

But now hearing him repeat my words… he must have read the text a few times. It gives me the tiniest boost of confidence, which is all I need.

“Exactly,” I agree. “And I’ve found just what you’re looking for. Just think, after today, you won’t ever have to see me again!” I tease.

Domino clenches his jaw and flares his nostrils. Something dark passes over his features, but it’s gone before I can pinpoint what that look means. Is he… annoyed? Happy to be rid of me?

“Um, okay, so, ready for the tour?” I ask, not sure why the mood took a depressing turn. I thought Domino would be thrilled to be done with this whole process. It’s clear he’s ready to get into a new place, and all I’m trying to do is make that happen as quickly as possible.

I take the lead, showing him the kitchen, the lofts, and all the extra meeting rooms and storage available. He follows silently, hardly looking at anything I point out. Seriously, what the hell happened to the flirty man who walked in here half an hour ago? He’s now back to being his usual grumpy self. No, he’s worse than that. This version of Domino seems agitated but I’m not sure why.

Men. They think we’re confusing.

“As you can see, outside here we have plenty of land for future development and expansion. You could build extra apartments back here, garages, storage units, whatever you need. And the parking lot is huge, right? Lots of space for all the bikers.”

Domino just stands next to me with his arms crossed over his chest, surveying the land. I hope it’s because he’s envisioning all the cool construction projects he and his club are going to do, but I have a feeling he’s making a list of things he hates.

“The gravel lot wasn’t done right. The rocks are too big.” The man has hardly spoken two words since we started the tour and this is what he has to say?

“The rocks… are too big?” I repeat, placing my hands on my hips. Maybe if he hears the words from someone else he’ll realize how utterly stupid they are.

“Yup,” he confirms, nodding his head. “They’ll ruin my bike.”

“Well, I suggest you put an offer on this place and then start shopping for a better bike,” I counter. I peer over at Domino, his face as stoic and inscrutable as ever. My hands drop from my hips as I let out an exasperated sigh. “I can see how much it would be to redo the lot. It’s gravel, so that has to be cheaper than asphalt, right?”

Instead of answering me, Domino just grunts. His phone dings and he digs in his pocket, his face scrunching up in anger when he reads the screen. “Shit,” he curses before shoving his phone back in his jeans.

Without another word, Domino storms over to his bike and swings his leg over, plopping down as if punishing the poor leather seat.

“Find me another place after the weekend,” he shouts over the engine as it roars to life.

“Can’t wait!” I call back, not even trying to hide my sarcasm. I swear I see the hint of a smirk on his stupidly handsome face, but he pulls out of the parking lot and peels off before I can be sure.

I throw my hands up in the air and shake my head, not sure what else to do in this situation. The rocks are too big. What about the lofts? The completed kitchen? The location? “But nooooo, the rocks are too big,” I repeat under my breath in a mocking voice.

Heading back inside, I grab my purse and pull out my laptop as well as my favorite snack - dill pickle chips and a bottle of sweet tea. I lean against one of the counters in the kitchen and call my dear friend, Bea. She moved across the damn country not all that long ago, but we still try to talk a few times a week. I need to vent and she’s the best listener I know. Plus, she’s not selling agate jewelry in Mesa, Arizona like my mom, so that helps.

Twenty minutes later, I've polished off my chips and tea, as well as given a satisfactory rant to my friend. I can't avoid the office forever, so I better pack up and start researching yet another new property. This town isn't exactly a metropolis, so if he wants to stay within city limits, there are only so many buildings that will fit the bill. I'm hoping there's at least one more. That's all I need.

Just as I’m shouldering my purse and getting ready to lock up, I hear a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot. Maybe it’s Domino coming to apologize and tell me this is the perfect place and I’m an incredible real estate agent and he’ll take it for above the asking price.

Hey, a girl can dream, right?

I head outside to see what he wants, only it's not Domino. It's the man from the other day, the one with the eyepatch that seemed to have a history with Domino. This is definitely not a dream. It's a fucking nightmare.

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