DOM: Chapter 2

The name suits him perfectly. Strong. Memorable. And he says it like there’s no chance he’d be anyone else.

“Dom,” I say quietly, like I’m testing the taste of it.

He rubs his thumb across my knuckles. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Val.”

“You, too.”

God, his eyes are so stunning.

“What time did you say your flight starts boarding?”

I have to focus, remember where we are. “6:05.”

Dominic glances at his watch. “Fifteen minutes.” I briefly wonder if there will be time to grab a snack before I board, since the cookie I dropped was going to be my dinner. “And where’s your gate?”

“Um, twenty-four, I think. Just down the hall.”

The tip of his tongue peeks out between his lips as he licks across his incisor. “Tell me you’re going to Minneapolis.”

I swear my heart stutters in my chest.

“I’m going to Minneapolis,” I practically whisper.

“With luck like this, I’m tempted to switch our tickets and fly to Vegas. You can be my lucky charm. Win me a fortune.”

My laugh is a bit strangled. “Maybe if you hadn’t spent all your money buying me a new bag, you wouldn’t need to gamble for your retirement.”

“You wound me.” He presses a big, tattooed hand to his chest. “I might be forty-one, but I’m not quite ready to retire.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean…” I trail off as my brain starts to do the math.

Forty-one to my twenty-five. A sixteen-year age gap isn’t too much, is it?

It’s not like I have any parents to object.

Oh my god, it’s also not like I’m actually going to date him, so this is the dumbest thing to think about.

“I’m teasing you, Shorty.” He lets go of my hand, and I vaguely realize that we never actually shook. We just stood here holding hands. “Now, come on.” He places his palm between my shoulders, turning me out of the store. “We have just enough time before we board.”

I feel a bit like a lost puppy as I let this stranger guide me back into the main hallway of the terminal. But as fleeting as his attention might be, I’m soaking it in. For better or worse, I’m going to absorb every moment of it.

“Wait,” I say. “Time for what?”

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he leads me into the little bakery a few doors down, back the way I came from.

Another wave of embarrassment flushes through me. Oh my god, he’s going to replace my cookie.

“No.” I wave my hands in front of us. “I really don’t need one. I shouldn’t have gotten it in the first place.”

Self-deprecation is an instinct at this point. A product of growing up with a mother whose skinniness was a result of poor nutrition and drug use. Growing up in a society that has only just started to appreciate bodies of all sizes. Growing up feeling less than because I always had to dig to the back of the clothing rack to find something that fit.

“Nonsense.” Dom blows off my comment as we stop behind the one other person in line. “Every flight should start with a cookie.”

I mean, I agree. Which is why I bought one for myself. But he doesn’t exactly look like the type of person who indulges in desserts. Unless he spends every morning in the gym.

I glance at his chest, trying to tell if I can see hints of more tattoos through his white shirt or if I’m imagining it.

The person ahead of us takes their purchase and moves away so Dom can step forward.

“Three chocolate chip cookies, please.” He looks back at me. “Need a drink?”

I shake my head, not even bothering to protest at this point.

I’ll just let the man buy me a cookie, and then I’ll put it in my bag and wait until I can eat it in private, huddled against the window on the plane.

But then I consider the possibility of getting chocolate on the interior of my brand-new backpack, and it makes me want to gag.

Dom accepts the paper bag from the cashier, three cookies inside, and I sidestep around him, making way for the next person in line, before walking out of the tiny bakery.

I can feel his presence at my side before he holds out one of the cookies for me.

When I hesitate, he lifts it an inch higher. “Indulge my bossiness this one last time.”

“I was always warned about taking candy from strangers,” I murmur, even as I take it.

“Good thing it’s not candy,” Dom replies.

I can’t help my eye roll.

“Shall we?” He gestures toward our gate with the remaining two cookies, which are stacked bottom to bottom.

Before I answer, I look at the backpack still slung over one of his shoulders. “Will you let me carry my bag?”

“Nope.” Dom shakes his head once, then takes a giant bite of his double-decker cookie.

“I feel like I should probably argue with you one of these times.”

“Why?” Dom takes another bite.

“Because.”

His lips quirk as he drapes a heavy arm over my shoulders and starts us down the hall. “Life is too short not to lean in, my Valentine.”

My Valentine. Jesus.

I follow his direction literally and lean into his side.

His body is firm and warm and… I inhale and almost groan.

He smells like sex appeal.

Like someone took every secret desire I’ve ever had and bottled it up into an exclusive cologne that only my soulmate could wear and get away with.

“And really, we’re both getting something out of this,” he continues, and I force myself to focus. “Probably me more than you.”

“I got a new backpack that cost several hundred dollars and a fresh new cookie.” I glance up at him. “What do you get?”

His arm is heavy around my shoulders as he speaks. “Something interesting to break up my day. The company of a beautiful woman.” He lifts his other hand. “Cookies.”

My eyes move to his half-eaten stack of cookies as I try to figure out if this is real or if I fell and cracked my head on the floor and am hallucinating the whole thing.

“Make me happy, Angel.” I glance back up, finding his blue eyes locked on mine. “Let me feed you. Eat your treat.”

My breath catches, my mind sprinting to images of me on my knees, one of his hands in my hair…

Don’t go there, Val.

Tentatively, I take a bite of my cookie. When I do, I can feel his hum of appreciation where my body is pressed against his.

I think I hear him say something. Something like that’s my girl, but that can’t be right.

In silence that should be uncomfortable, I walk through the busy airport terminal, eating a cookie, with a handsome-as-hell man at my side. His arm is still over my shoulder, and my backpack is on his back, like we’re a happy couple on vacation, not a pair of total strangers who literally ran into each other.

But what’s the harm in pretending?

Lean in.

My eyes flutter closed for two steps as I let myself lean into him. Lean into the feeling. Lean into the make-believe world where this is my life. Where this man is really here with me. Where I’m happy. Loved.

A tightness wraps around my throat, and I blink my eyes open, shoving another bite of cookie into my mouth.

Make-believe, indeed.

At least side by side he can’t watch me eat, so I hurry and finish the rest of my cookie. Because this is the real world. And he’s just being nice.

He’s probably someone who travels a lot. Probably a little bored. And sure, I’m cute enough. I’m chubby, but I think I carry it okay and my face is nice. But in my tennis shoes and bright yellow dress, I’m no match for him.

He’s probably the VP of something. Someone who owns more than one vehicle. Someone with self-esteem and a mom who loves him.

A pang hits deep in my chest.

This is only a moment. I will be happy in another moment.

I repeat the words my therapist has told me time and time again.

Then I repeat the words Dom said only a few moments ago.

Lean in.

I fill my lungs with a deep breath and decide to pretend this is my life.

I’ll be happy in this moment.

A big hand plucks the empty napkin from my hand, and he balls it up with his own and drops them into a trash can as we walk past.

“So.” I force my courage to the surface. “Do you live in Minnesota?”

There’s a light pressure on my far shoulder as he tightens his grip on me, just the smallest bit.

“No, just passing through on my way to Chicago.” His tone sounds almost apologetic, and I try not to feel disappointed.

It’s for the best, I tell myself.

He’s just being nice, I tell myself.

“I’m surprised they didn’t have a direct flight,” I say to make conversation, thinking there has to be one from where we are in Denver.

“Already trying to get rid of me?” Dom is clearly teasing me.

So I try to tease back. “You are a little clingy.”

His laugh startles me, and this time he curls his fingers around my shoulder, holding me in place. “Valentine, you are a fucking delight.”

Delight.

The blush on my cheeks is basically permanent now. “Thanks.”

Thanks?

God, why am I so weird?

Usually, I’m outgoing. I’ve been called bubbly by coworkers, and it’s fairly accurate.

It often takes a lot of effort, but I try my hardest to be nice, kind, and accommodating.

My therapist says it’s a defense mechanism. That I do it because I want people to like me and I’m overcompensating for my fear of rejection. My fear of not being liked. Not being wanted.

Stay in this moment, I remind myself. There will be plenty of time for pity parties later.

Our steps slow as we reach the gate, which is overflowing with travelers waiting for permission to board.

When we come to a stop, Dom’s arm slips away, and I have to fight off a shiver as cool air fills the space where his arm was.

“I suppose it’s too much to ask what seat you’re in.”

His comment reminds me that I need to go up to the desk. “I don’t actually know yet. My boarding pass says to get my seat assignment at the gate. Not sure why.”

“They probably flagged you for being so unruly on your last flight.”

I don’t fight my grin as I look up at him. “Heard about that?”

He winks. “I hear about everything.”

I let him see my eye roll. “I’m sure you do.” Then I sigh, assuming this is it. “Well, I better go get that seat assignment.”

Without arguing, Dom slides my new backpack down his arm before holding it out to me.

I grab my phone out of the front pocket, then hoist it onto my back, sliding both arms through the straps this time.

“Thank you for the backpack and the cookie and being…” I lift a shoulder.

I was going to say nice, but that sounds stupid. Even a little pathetic. Thanking someone just for being nice to me.

“I always try to be.” Dom dips his chin, then steps away.

And I wonder if he’s the most sincere person I’ll ever meet.