Page 128 of By A Thread
“Oh, Dom.” Damn it. My shattered broken heart was trying to knit itself back together just so it could fall for him all over again.
“Pinky promise me,” he said, jabbing his pinky in the vicinity of my eye.
“Ah!” I jerked to avoid losing my cornea. The Range Rover followed suit and swerved into the other lane.
I answered the cab’s angry horn with a middle finger. “Yeah, okay. I’m losing an eye here, and you had to use your brakes. Big freaking deal.”
“Ally,” Dominic whispered.
“Dom, I’m a little busy trying not to kill us.”
“You didn’t pinky promise me yet.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I hooked my pinky around his and tried not to fall in love with the idiot when he pressed his lips to our joined fingers.
44
Dominic
Ifelt warm and cozy and safe and happy. And very, very drunk.
I couldn’t hug Ally because she was driving, but I could wrap up in her coat. So I shoved my arms through the sleeves and wore it like a blanket.
“What kind of a milkshake do you want?” she asked, double-parking and throwing the hazards on in front of the golden arches. She was so pretty.
“Pfft,” I snorted. “The only kind there is.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Chocolate?”
“Duh. Don’t say the v-word in my presence,” I warned.
She gave me a “you’re so stupid” smile, and in my drunken state, I decided to treasure it always. “I love it when you smile at me.”
The smile faded from those lips, and I realized I’d said the words out loud. “Oops. I’m not supposed to say that stuff.”
“What other stuff aren’t you supposed to say?” she asked.
“That I think about you all the time and I really want to see you naked.” Somewhere deep in my brain, where the obscene amount of scotch I’d consumed hadn’t yet penetrated, I was yelling at myself, pushing alarm buttons, and tapping out Morse code.Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Man.
“Oh, boy,” Ally sighed. “Wait here. I’ll be back with your milkshake.”
She slid out of the vehicle and jogged around the hood. I pushed all of the buttons on my door before the window went down. “Get us burgers too. Those spoon thing appetizers were stupid,” I called after her.
She waved over her shoulder, and I watched her disappear into McDonald’s. I entertained myself by making up songs about her.
“Ally in the red dress makes me feel like a mess,” I crooned through the open window.
A guy in a yellow ski jacket threw a buck at me.
I was working on the second verse when Ally came back with a greasy fast food bag and two chocolate milkshakes. She looked tiny, dwarfed by my coat.
“Look!” I held up the dollar triumphantly. “I was singing, and a guy gave me this.”
“Wow, Dom. Maybe you can quit your day job.” She thrust the bag and one of the cups at me through the open window and then climbed behind the wheel.
“If I quit my day job, I wouldn’t get to see you,” I reminded her.
“Gee. Darn.”
