But it was only a matter of time until the house was done and on the market and… Okay. I was overthinking. We hadn’t defined what this was other than “a relationship,” and we certainly hadn’t talked about anything relating to the future.
Me: Count on it. I miss you.
Dominic: Good.
I woke early the next morning with Brownie’s warm furry body cuddled into my side and a figure looming over us both.
The dog and I were epic sleep partners. It took a lot to drag us from our slumber.
My confused screech and subsequent flailing to free myself of blankets and pillows roused Brownie, who grumbled lazily and did not leap into attack dog mode.
The laugh was soft and undeniably familiar.
“Dominic?”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my mouth. I didn’t care about morning breath or the fact that we were squishing Brownie. I just wanted to pull the man into bed.
“How? When? I thought you were staying for two more days? What time is it? Is everything okay?”
“So many questions,” he teased, running a hand down my side to squeeze my hip.
“Wait a minute. What day is it? Did Brownie and I accidentally sleep for two days?”
“It’s obscenely early Saturday morning. I took a red-eye. You have fifteen minutes to pack.”
“Pack?” I croaked.
This was a dream. One I was going to be really, really disappointed to wake up from.
“Pack,” he repeated with a grin. He looked tired too. “I’m whisking you away for the weekend.”
Brownie wriggled his way in between us and showed Dom his expectant belly.
“You, too, buddy,” Dom said, giving the dog the required pats.
I sat up. “Oh, my God. You’re really here. This is really happening!”
He laughed, and I threw my arms around him, raining kisses on his face and neck.
“Baby, I may never say these words again, but I really need you to get out of bed.”
I bounced on my knees, full of adrenaline. “Where are we going?”
“Stop asking questions. Stop jiggling,” he said to my breasts. “And start packing.”
My breasts and I quit jiggling and started packing. “Pack warm” was the only hint he gave me. On the other side of the bed, Dominic exchanged fashion-forward suits for warmer, cozier items. The sexy eye banging we were giving each other made me hope our destination involved a short ride and a very big bed.
Between it being somewhere around zero o’clock in the morning and the fact that I hadn’t had this man’s penis inside my body in five days, I was probably packing completely useless garbage. But I didn’t care. I was spending an entire weekend away with the man I l—iked. Liked.
Packed, zipped, and still eye banging, we hauled our bags downstairs, and Dom went to work packing Brownie’s food and treats that—God forbid—we didn’t give him at precisely 7 p.m. every night.
“Can you grab the book I left in the den?” he asked me.
I should have been suspicious. His tone was a little too casual, and when was the last time he’d read in the den? It was usually on the couch while I pinned home improvement projects to my Dad’s House board.
But I wasn’t thinking about any of that when I practically skipped into the small front room.
“Oh my God.” I stopped in my tracks. Brownie dashed into the room in front of me, nose to the ground, checking out the new smells. The couch and chair were missing. And in their place was a stunning, brand-new upright piano.
“Dom?”
His hands came to my shoulders. His chin to the top of my head.
“I know it’s not your dad’s,” he said while my mouth continued to open and close like a guppy. “The guy I brought out to the house took one look at that one and said it couldn’t be saved. But this model is supposed to be good.”
Oh, boy. The piano was blurring in front of me. Everything was blurring in front of me. Nope. No. No. No. I was not a cryer. I was a silent sufferer.
“Do you like it?” he asked softly.
The man bought me a piano. A very shiny, expensive piano. Just because I had good memories of my dad’s.
I nodded very slowly. “How did you get it in here?”
I heard the smile in his voice. “You and Brownie can sleep through anything apparently. Including early morning piano deliveries.”
My heart physically hurt with happiness.
I turned away from the piano and into Dom’s arms.
“I love… it. I love it.”
He cupped my face and kissed me so gently it made me go a little weak in the knees.
“I missed you this week,” he whispered.
“Good,” I said.
62
Ally
The cabin or chalet or whatever wealthy people called their mountain getaways was tucked halfway up a ski slope in snowy Connecticut.
Smoke puffed cheerfully through a stone chimney. Dark green cedar shakes and caramel-toned wood accents gave the exterior a luxury gingerbread vibe.
“Do you ski?” Dom asked, turning off the engine and reaching for my hand.
Sheepishly, I shook my head. “Never been.” Even living in Colorado, I’d never actually gotten out on a ski slope. Mostly because I was more of a spiked hot chocolate and fuzzy socks by the fire kind of gal and less of a “Hey, let’s hurl ourselves down the side of a cliff on slippery toothpicks” one.
“Good,” he said, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. “Then we can spend the whole weekend in front of the fire.”
Swoon.
Yup. I was falling in some serious like here.
Brownie, not wanting to be left out, shoved his face between the seats and slurped at our joined hands.
“We really need to call that dog trainer.” Dominic sighed.
“When we get back,” I promised.
We piled out of the SUV and trooped up onto the porch.
“This is my mother’s place,” he explained, opening the front door. Brownie rocketed inside to sniff everything. “By the way, we both have Monday off too. I cleared it with your supervisor. And the nursing home is happy to provide updates. If your dad is having a good day, they’ll arrange a video chat.”
I shook my head. Dominic the handler. “You know how I feel about being left out of decisions,” I began.
“But?” He gave me a wolfish look as he pulled me into the living space. It had Dalessandra’s stamp all over it. A modern kitchen with quartz and steel that opened into a dining space with a table that could easily seat twelve. The focal point of the two-story living room was the towering stone fireplace. The furniture was deep and overstuffed. There were colorful throws and pillows everywhere.
“But, in this case, I might be okay with it,” I said.
“If you’re still on the fence, allow me to convince you.” He led me into the bedroom off of the living space. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked spectacular snowy mountain peaks and miles of forest. There was another fireplace in here and a grand four-poster bed buried under mounds of winter white linens and pillows.
The bathroom door was open, and I caught a glimpse of marble floors, thick towels, and a huge freestanding tub in hammered copper.