Page 19 of Stirring Attraction (Second Shot 2)
She exhaled as if she’d been holding that particular breath for a week, maybe more. He’d be out there tonight, watching over her. She would be safe for one more night.
“What happened with your boyfriend?” he asked once the machine sputtered to life and started gurgling.
She turned away, focusing on the drawer that held the wine opener. “He’s no longer mine.” She fished the corkscrew out and set about trying to open the bottle. “He ended it.”
“Jesus, Lily.” He spoke from behind her. And then his hand covered hers on the bottle. He gently pulled it away from her and finished the job with his left hand. Then he held it out to her. “You’re really racking up a list of men I need to hunt down and hurt.”
She took the wine and turned away. She needed a glass before she took a long, deep swig straight from the source. And if she did that, he’d never believe . . .
“I’m not upset,” she muttered, opening the cabinet and removing a glass tumbler. She didn’t need stemware tonight. “The mugs are over the coffeemaker.”
Carrying her filled glass, she headed for the living room. The small, tidy space held her father’s old baby-blue recliner, a three-person sofa covered in worn brown leather, and a wooden coffee table that her mother had purchased at a yard sale. Matching side tables stood at either end of the couch and the entire set looked as if it had been handmade by one of the local loggers. But the hunting lodge motif looked out of place in the small two-bedroom one-story house.
A mechanical sound emanated from the kitchen, drawing her attention away from the furnishing she should probably update at some point. It continued for a moment, the grinding noise chased by the rush of running water. And then it stopped.
“Trouble finding a mug?” she called. Any other night, the noise would have launched her into a panic. But Dominic was here now. She could save her hide-under-the-covers instinct for another night.
“Nah.” He walked into the room holding an “I Love My Teacher” mug. “I was disposing of your flowers for you.”
“Thank you,” she murmure
d, tracking his movements as he bypassed the recliner and claimed the other end of the sofa.
“Do you always keep the curtains open?” He nodded to the drapes pulled back to reveal a sliding glass door leading to the outside.
“Not at first,” she said. “But my imagination ran wild, wondering who might be on the other side.”
He nodded as if her fears made perfect sense. “Would more light out there help? Maybe a camera or two?”
“It might.” She stared out into the darkness. “There’s one light set up on a motion sensor. I thought floodlights would annoy the neighbors.”
“They’ll adjust.” He set his mug on the nearest side table. “Why did Ted break up with you?”
“Because I leave the curtains open,” she said and he raised an eyebrow. But she knew he understood her words. This had nothing to do with concerns about Peeping Toms spying on them in the bedroom.
Not that she’d slept with Ted. Well, maybe Dominic didn’t need to know that piece.
“And because I can’t stop wondering where he is,” she added. “Not Ted, but—”
“The man who attacked you,” he said.
“Yes. I want to know why he did it and when he’ll come back.” She gulped her wine to keep her voice from wavering over the last word.
“And Tom wanted what? Rainbows and sunshine?”
“Ted,” she corrected. “And he wanted kids. He’s ready to settle down, not coach me through ‘the aftermath.’ Plus, I think the cuts scared him.”
“He didn’t like your injuries? It looks to me like they’ll heal without much scarring. I can’t even see the one on your face.” Dominic’s voice was a low rumble. His gaze drifted lower, probably imagining the horrors hiding beneath her dress and wondering if their mutual friends had lied about the extent of her injures.
“Makeup,” she said. “And they’re not that bad. The one on my side is the deepest. But Ted never saw that one.”
His relief was palpable as he leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs.
“But Ted has a reputation for fainting over a paper cut,” she added. “So even the mostly healed wounds on my face and arms were too much for him.”
His expression hardened. Add in his new beard and longer hair and Dominic now appeared downright menacing. “You know, I’m not very accurate,” he said slowly. “But I can still get off a round or two with a pistol. Where did you say Tom lives?”
“Ted. And I didn’t.” She raised her glass to her lips. After all this time, all the anger she’d steered his way for not coming back, why did his jealousy feel so welcome?
