Page 68 of The Bad Girl List

As I lead her into the grapevines, the bright green leaves flopping around us, she marches along beside me like a soldier on a mission.

“Have you ever considered that maybe you’re not giving your family enough credit?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Your mom and your aunts are nice. I mean, really nice. That stupid award that Thomas brought out? And my swim team picture from high school? My family were raving lunatics, and your family acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. It embarrassed the hell out of me, but I think my mom could have brought out a dead cat and your family would have been nice about it. It made my mom feel good.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Trevor, but you’re not Chinese. You don’t know what it’s like. My grandparents on both sides worked their asses off to put all their kids through college. My dad’s parents owned a dry cleaning business. My mom’s parents owned a restaurant and Asian grocery store. My mom has a master’s degree in engineering from Cal Poly and my dad has a PhD in Cold War history. All my other uncles and aunties have degrees and good jobs. We’re hardwired to be overachievers. It’s in our genetic coding. They’re going to be crushed when they find out about me.”

I consider her words. I can understand some of what she’s saying. Elle had that drive Dom is describing. Anything less than an A was never enough. Anything less than one-hundred-ten percent was unacceptable.

“You’re right,” I say. “I’m not Chinese and it’s not possible for me to understand completely. But just think about what I said. I think your family might surprise you.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw how much they adored Oliver,” she says in a small voice. “Or saw how proud they were when I was hired by Presidio.”

In her softness, I hear just how much she’s struggling right now. I hate that she’s feeling this way.

Now that we’re out of sight of our families, I do what I wanted to do earlier. My arm slides around her bare shoulders. I pull her against my side and squeeze. She leans her head on the side of my arm, her arms coming around my middle to hug me.

My body responds to her nearness, my blood heating with a slow burn. I shift her body, rotating her into my front.

She doesn’t resist. Her head rests against my chest, her arms still looped around my waist. I run my hands up and down her yellow sundress. She feels so fucking good against me. My dick is already responding to her nearness. I shift just enough so she can’t feel it.

“You know what I think?” I say.

“Mmm?”

“I think Oliver is an asshat who will someday regret his decision to let you go. And I think by the time my dad is done brow-beating your ex-boss, she’s going to regret underestimating you. There are better things and better people out there for you, Dom. I know it.”

She leans back to look up at me, her eyes searching my face. “You want to know something?”

“What?”

“I wish you were available, and I wish you lived in the same zip code.”

As soon as she says it, she untangles her arms and breaks away from me. I stare stupidly after her as she walks away through the grapevines. It hits me that she hasn’t missed the fact that I’m still wrapped up in Elle.

I want to tell Dom I’m available.

I want to tell her zip codes are only numbers on envelopes.

I want to tell her that I want her in a way I can’t explain.

I don’t say any of those things. Instead, I hurry to catch up to her and say, “There’s a place I want to show you. It’s right up here.”

Dom shoots a quick smile in my direction, and I’m again struck at how easy it is to be around her. Whether we’re blabbing like teenagers or completely silent, it feels good to be near her. It had been like that with Elle, too.

We reach the end of the row. The vines part, revealing a set of steps that leads down to a terrace carved into the face of a tall cliff. Two rows of benches hug the wall. Near the overlook is a wooden archway planted with climbing white roses. The almost-full moon washes everything in silvery light.

Dom gasps. “This is so beautiful!” She hurries eagerly down the steps.

I smile at her enthusiasm. “We had this made for weddings.”

“It’s perfect.” She stands beneath the archway, staring out over the Dry Creek Valley. More vineyards stretch out in front of us. A soft breeze stirs the grapevines, causing the leaves to catch the moonlight as they sway.

“Is this where you and Elle were going to get married?” She turns to look up at me as I come to stand beside her.

“I wish.” I smile at the memory of Elle flatly refusing the idea when I proposed it.

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