Page 11 of A Taste For Trouble
“I know you mean well, Dom, but trust me, you will come to regret that invitation,” I said desperately. I didn’t want to be around him any more than he wanted to be around me. But even worse, I didn’t want Beelzebub…I mean, Sweetpea, to be around Dom’s house.
“Well, it won’t be for the first time I’ve regretted something when it comes to you,” he said, with a great scowl, and I straightened my spine. Fine! If he was going to be such an asshole about it, he deserved to suffer.
“Alrighty, then! Don’t blame me for whatever happens next,” I said, with a shrug.
I binned the burnt lasagna and forced Sweetpea into his carrier, which set off another round of loud protests, but he settled down to sulk in style when I threw in a couple of treatsand toys. Dom knocked on the open door of my bedroom as I was trying to pick out a couple of outfits. The small room seemed to shrink further when he poked his head into the room. He was clearly struck speechless at the sheer amount of purple and glitter in my bedroom.
“It looks like a bunch of unicorns exploded in here,” he said finally.
“Glitter makes me happy,” I said defiantly, wondering why I even felt the need to explain my taste.
Dom’s eyes fell on the row of books displayed on a revolving bookshelf by the window - my pride and joy. My life’s work. A stack of fat, steamy romances.
“Are those your books?” he asked with interest, and I almost threw myself over the bookshelf, trying to block his view.
“Yes. Now, if you don’t mind waiting downstairs for me, I’ll be out in a tick,” I yelped.
“Why don’t you want me to see your books?” he demanded. “Are you hiding something?”
“Pfft! What would I have to hide?” I scoffed. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in romance, that’s all. You’ve never shown any interest in them until now.”
“I’ve never seen any of your books until now, have I?” he reasoned.
“It’s not so difficult. All you need to do is step into The Next Chapter. They always display my books front and centre,” I shot back, referring to the only indie bookstore in Maplewood.
“Come on, Rosie,” he said, with a lazy grin that sent tingles straight to my lady bits. “Stop hiding your books and let me have a look at them.”
Over my dead body, I thought desperately. If he read even one of my books, he’d discover my secret. And I didn’t want him thinking I was dying of unrequited love just because my heroes looked, sounded, and acted like him. I wasn’t! I wasjust attracted to him. It was just physical. And extremely inconvenient.
But the more I tried to hide my books, the more I was going to pique his curiosity. So I forced myself to shrug delicately and step away from the bookshelf.
“I never hide my books from anyone because I’m very proud of them,” I told him loftily. “I’m proud of every sexy, steamy word I write.”
He blanched at the mention of sex and steam in the same sentence, and I hid a smile. I ran my fingers over the first row of books and plucked one out at random. It had a shirtless man on the cover, covered in tattoos.
“You should start with this one,” I suggested, holding the book out to him. “The hero gives big dick energy for a reason.”
I wondered if steam would come out of his ears at this point, but Dominic was clearly made of sterner stuff.
“I’d love to read it, thanks,” he replied, taking the book from me, without meeting my eyes. He tucked it away in his jacket pocket, and I tried not to panic. I wanted to pounce on him and grab it back, but maybe that was too obvious. I’d have to steal it back while I was at his house, before he had a chance to read it.
When he went back downstairs, I threw a couple of skirts, tees, and cardigans into my old duffel bag. I didn’t know what it said about me that I picked out some pretty notebooks and pink and purple erasable pens from my stash with more care than I did the clothes. I was halfway out of the door when I remembered I needed undies too. Cursing my ADHD, I added undies and some socks. I was sure Dominic and I would be at each other’s throats in less than a day. He’d put up with me for half a day more after that before he got sick of me, and he’d let me return home on the third day, after he’d convinced himself he’d done all he could to keep me safe.
I also threw on my brown leather jacket before I ran down the stairs.
When I got downstairs, Dom grabbed the bag out of my hand and threw it in the back of his Range Rover, while I maneuvered Sweetpea’s cat carrier into the back seat. But before I could get in next to him, Trevor nudged me out of the way.
“You can sit up front while I try and get to know my homeboy better,” he said, with a wink.
The traitor!
“For what joy?” I asked sarcastically. “Do you like having your face ripped off?”
“You shush and get in before the boss gets impatient,” he retorted.
I knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t going to work. Dom wasn’t suddenly going to notice me just because I was sitting next to him, and this sort of obvious matchmaking was only going to embarrass me. But short of dragging Trevor out of the car and kicking his bony ass into the front seat, there was nothing I could do right now.
“Fine, but do not stick your fingers in through the bars of Sweetpea’s carrier,” I warned. “He’ll bite them right off.”
