She stands too and tosses an arm over my shoulder. “Are there two better words to describe Dominic?”
As we head into the sunshine and towards her SUV, I concede. “No, I guess not.”
My knock is light, not sure if Ryder is awake or asleep, and also because I’m a little less enthusiastic about being here than I was. Dom’s car isn’t outside. That was a little deflating. I shot him a text that I would be here, but didn’t hear back.
As I’m ready to tell Sienna we should just go, the door flies open. Nate is on the other side, his face breaking into a smile as he sees us. “It’s not every day you open the door and see not one but two beautiful women on your doorstep.”
“How are you?” I grin.
“Good. You?”
“Decent. I left my laptop in Dom’s room. Can I grab it?”
“Sure. Come on in.” He pulls open the door and lets me and Sienna inside. “Dominic’s at the gym. He’s been there for a few hours, so he should be back if you want to wait.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Should I?”
“What she means,” Sienna says, “is give us the dirt, Nate. What’s he saying that she isn’t supposed to know?”
Nate belly laughs and I see Sienna’s gaze go to the sliver of abs that’s visible as his shirt slides up. “Just get to the point, Sienna.”
“It’s how I roll,” she shrugs. “So spill.
“He’s not saying much.”
“And you lie.”
“He’s my brother,” he emphasizes. “If Priss told you shit, would you tell me?”
“No.”
“And you expect me to tell you stuff?”
“Yes,” she sighs dramatically. “The bro code isn’t the same as the sister code. You still have to tell us stuff.”
Nate looks at me, shaking his head. “How do you deal with this?”
Laughing, I plop down on the sofa. The cushions squeak as they sink into the old springs beneath them.
“Oh!” Nate says, “Check this out.”
He grabs a set of papers from the kitchen and spreads them on the coffee table in front of me. Sienna sits beside me and we take in a bunch of paint samples, light fixture images, and flooring options.
“Nate, if you didn’t know, I love design,” Sienna squeals, sorting through the items like a kid in a candy store.
“That’s what I heard,” he says. “I like this one for the floor. It’s durable and—”
“And keeping it looking nice will be a disaster,” Sienna says, tossing it to the side. “Now this one is durable and would be easy to keep clean.”
“But how are you ever going to match what’s already there with that feel?” I ask. “Unless you’re changing the trim and bar and all that, it’ll look crappy. Even with paint, the styles don’t match.”
My sister’s gaze flies to mine, her eyes shining. “You are good at this.”
“She’s good at a lot of things.”
Our heads twist to the side to see Dominic standing in the doorway. Dressed in red mesh shorts and a sweaty white t-shirt, the sight of him alone makes my entire body clench.
His hair is a mess, his cheeks still red from the workout. Not to mention he’s wearing yesterday’s stubble like it’s a high-fashion accessory.
“We didn’t hear you come in,” Nate says. “I was showing the girls the stuff for the bar.”
Dom’s Adam’s apple bobs. “Cam, why don’t you come here for a minute?” He shoves off the doorway and heads down the hall.
“Go on,” Sienna whispers. I can barely hear her over the blood rushing by my eardrums. “I’ll stay out here with Nate.”
Forcing a swallow of my own, I head down the hall and find Dominic sitting on his bed. I step inside the small room and close the door behind me. My feet stop just a few inches from the threshold as I try to make sense of the look on his face.
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t glare. Gives me nothing to base a decision off of.
“Are you okay, babe?” I ask softly.
“Come here.”
The gravel in his tone skirts over my skin as I take the three steps to the bed. His arms are around me, his cheek pressing into my stomach before I can even get situated in front of him.
He holds me tight, almost knocking me off-balance. I rest my arms on his shoulders, cradling the back of his head as he nuzzles against me.
Instead of talking, I run my hands down his back until I hit a spot that makes him wince. As he pulls back, I catch a flash of pain in his eyes.
“What happened?” I ask, moving around him. Climbing on the bed, I lift the edge of his shirt. There’s an angry, red burst on the right side of his back, halfway between his shoulder and hip. “I’ll grab some ice.”
He looks at me over his shoulder, his blue eyes clear. “Just stay with me. Tell me about your day.”
The simplicity of his request both worries me and comforts me. Before I answer, I help him lie back, probably more help than he needs, and prop his side up with a pillow. He grins the whole time as he tells me it’s unnecessary.
“I don’t care if it’s necessary,” I groan. “Let me make myself feel better about this.”
Once he’s settled, I lie next to him. “You smell like sweat.”
“You like it and you know it.”
“I didn’t say I don’t,” I smile. “I was just pointing it out.”
“What did you do today?”
“Went to yoga. Talked to Mallory and Joy for a little while and then came by here to grab my laptop.”
He runs a finger down the centerline of my face. “You didn’t come here to see me?”
“I hoped you were here,” I admit. “But you didn’t answer my text so I wasn’t sure.”
“I was training. My fight is coming up and the guy I’m going to fight has a helluva ground game.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
He grins. “I know you don’t. Keep it that way.”
“But I want to know. I want to understand you. What those things mean, why you like fighting.”
“I don’t think you can understand it. You’re not cut from that cloth.”
There’s a finality in his voice, one that tells me he’s made up his mind. Before, it was more open-ended. Until today, there was a little window of opportunity that was left dangling out there for another time and place. That’s closed.
“I could learn that cloth,” I offer.
He kisses me simply, easily, just a sweet gesture that turns me to mush. “You’ll be happy to hear that I think this is my last fight.”
“I am happy to hear that. But what changed your mind?”
“My body isn’t cut out for it anymore,” he says, curling his nose. “It hurts when you get hit.”
“I thought you didn’t let them hit you.”
“I don’t. Not on purpose,” he laughs. “My reflexes are starting to catch up with my age and fighting is a young man’s sport.”
“Quit now. Don’t get hit anymore.”
“I can’t. I need this payday.”