Page 86 of Hold Me Today

Nick nods sagely, offering a quick mark of the cross over his heart. “She did. Punched him right in the dick.”

Lips parting, I gasp, “Shepunchedhim?”

“First-time offender. I think she went to, I don’t know, feel him with her knuckles or something?” Dom lifts a shoulder, then drops his hand to his thigh. “Josh is six-eight. I played against him in college ball. Not a bad dude, except he always was a little handsy when it came to women. I like to think of this as . . . divine justice.”

“Who was the winner?”

Slowly, as though he’s savoring the moment and wanting it to last, Dom smirks. “You’re sittin’ with him.” That smirk pulls just a little wider as he inclines his head with the grace of the victorious. “Not that I can blame her—I’m a pretty memorable guy.”

Uh-huh.Cocky, is more like it. I open my mouth, prepared to deliver a stinging retort . . . except, wait.I’m a pretty memorable guy. Without reservation, I stare Dom down. Dark, edgy appeal mixed with a smooth confidence that lends toward humor and not total arrogance—oh, he’sperfect.

Striving for nonchalance, I drop my chin onto my balled fist, elbow digging into the table. “What are you up to next weekend,Dominic?” There we go: perfect tone. Light, airy, unassuming.

“Next weekend?” Dom reiterates, cocking his head in curiosity. “I’ve got no plans.”

“Ermione.”

Oh, no. This isnotsomething Nick will be able to talk me out of.

A familiar, masculine hand circles my bicep and tugs me in close. His breath coasts over my ear as he growls, “Óxi.”

Actually, yes.

I pluck his fingers off my arm, one by one. “Dom, I’d love to extend an invitation to you, if you’re still in town next weekend when we head up to Maine.” Deliberately, I pause, prolonging the moment. “For a singles’ retreat.”

Should there have been a pin dropping, no one would know because Dom throws his head back with a sharp laugh. “Asingles’retreat? Why the fuck would I want to go that? I just had my heart broken.”

Ah, there we go. Liked versus loved—looks like Dominic DaSilva tipped the scale for the latter. “It’s perfect, actually. That part of Maine? There’s not much cell service, which meansyou, my friend, will have an entire weekend of your trip completely media-free.”

“Jesus, you’re laying it on thick.”

I ignore Nick’s grumbling. Men. They don’t even see when someone is trying to help them. Swiveling my chin on my palm, I glance over to the man who rocked my world just two nights ago, who planned a tattoo for me that carries such beautiful weight and significance. “It’s a singles’ retreat. Think about it, Nick. What was the one thing both our parents tried to ship us off to back in high school?”

His grimace twists his handsome features. “Let’s not talk about it,naí?”

No can do, Mr. Stamos. No. Can. Do. I didn’t want to go on this damn trip in the first place. “Dating camp for Greeks,” I go on blithely, “also known as hell on earth.”

“It sounds like a cult.”

“Oh, no,” I tell Dom, “it’s definitely not that. Chaperones everywhere. Lots of awkward speed-dating rounds to try and find your perfect Greek match. Couple compatibility quizzes.Loadsof fun, if you’re into theoretical self-flagellation.” I sip from my almost empty water glass, then scan the restaurant for our host. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about with the Maine trip, butI’m pretty sure Sophia—who’s putting it together—is on the hunt for another husband.”

Dom’s brows draw together. “And I would sign up for this willingly . . .why?”

“Because it’s as far away from civilization as you can get on this side of Canada. No mention of Savannah Rose. Hanging out with your best bud, Nick. Possibly meeting a girl whomightmake you feel less like a stick in the mud—though, word for the wise, I’d leave Sophia alone.” Carefully, I take note of his reactions. His features remain passive, but his eyes never lose that cynical gleam that’s buried deep. “Plus, and I say this with total kindness, you look like you need to cut the cord to the public for a while. You can thank me after the trip when you feel like a new man.”

Dom’s attention shifts to my left. “Your girl should work in marketing. She’s a bulldog.”

Your girl. Nick’s girl.

It’s so wrong how veryrightthat feels.

Nick lets out a choked laugh. “She’s verypersuasivewhen she wants to be.” He says it like a compliment, and I fight the inane urge to preen under his praise. “Screw it. If we’re doing this Maine trip, might as well live it up.”

“Live it up” is not the catch-phrase of Bethel, Maine. Stunning, picturesque views? Yes. Gorgeous, little boutiques dotting the one major street the town has to offer? Absolutely. But when there’s a will, there’s a way—and I foresee more staring at the town’s Things-To-Do website in my future, so long as I can keep Sophia from making a weekend adventure into some thirst trap for husbands.

29

Mina

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