Page 54 of Cruel Promise
Like? I wait for him to fill me in, but he doesn’t.
“O-kay. Well, bye.”
He’s not leaving and I haven’t opened the door. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. Does he expect a goodbye kiss, or maybe a hug?
We don’t do that sort of thing. I mean, we kiss plenty but the,I want to devour you,kisses. Not the sweet,I’m going to miss you,ones.
Is that what he wants? Considering it, I step closer and hesitate for only a second before leaning up onto the tips of my toes and placing a quick kiss on his warm, brown cheek. Dropping back to my feet, I look up to see his eyes flash with surprise. Oh crap.
I reach for the door, eager for a hasty retreat. Based on that quick glimpse of shock on his face, I’d say he was not waiting for a goodbye kiss and I just made a fool of myself.
“See you around.” The heat of embarrassment prickles my skin and I jerk open the door, wishing I could disappear.
“Yeah, I’ll uh,” he stammers, and that just makes it ten times weirder because when the hell has Dominique Price ever stammered? I must have really thrown him for a loop there. “See you around.”
With a backward wave, he walks back in the direction we came from as I step inside the Kappa Mu house, closing it behind me. Why did I kiss him on the cheek? He isn’t my boyfriend or some soldier leaving for war. He’ll be gone for the weekend, which is normal. It’s not like he’ll miss me. I won’t miss him.
When he gets back, everything will go back to the way it was.
I groan and press my fingers to my eyelids. Kissing him made things weird. Why did I do that? I’m an idiot.
What happens if Dominique comes back and realizes he doesn’t want things back how they were? Or worse, that he does, but not to the way they were before he left for the game. What if he decides we should go all the way back to the way it was before we slept together? When I was just Aaron’s little sister and he was nothing more than my older brother’s infuriating best friend?
SEVENTEEN
DOMINIQUE
“Yes. I know,” I tell Coach, half listening to him as I walk to the edge of the street. Looking to my left, then to my right, I jog across the four lane street and head for the entrance to La Dour. The restaurant I’m meeting Andres DeAnde at. I’m not late, but I will be if Coach doesn’t stop his fussing so I can hang up and go inside.
“I’ve got it. Relax. I’m here.”
He continues with his tirade of advice, but I tuned most of him out fifteen minutes ago. It’s mostly the same three pieces of advice he’s given me at least a dozen times since we arrived in Richland three days ago.
Hear the man out.
Don’t say no to any offers until I have the chance to sleep on it.
Don’t be an asshole.
Simple enough.I met Andres briefly at the game so I know who to look for when I step inside the restaurant. He stopped by to scope out the team, I guess. Said hi to Roman, calling him by his first name. Roman acted like they knew each other, which was weird, but I couldn’t ask him about it with DeAnde standing right there, and I didn’t have time to question him during the game.
After we won, he and Emilio hitched a ride back with the rest of the team, eager to get back to their women, and I checked into my hotel. Alone. It sucked.
“Yeah. Uh, huh.”
I don’t hear what he says, but my noncommittal responses have dragged this conversation out long enough.
“I’m hanging up now,” I tell him before ending the call. Tucking the phone into the pocket of my suit jacket, I take a deep breath and open the door.
Right away, the scent of garlic and herbs hits my senses. When I looked it up online, La Dour was listed as Richland’s premier French restaurant. A bit too on the nose if you ask me.
But who knows, it could be a coincidence that he picked a French restaurant without knowing I was born and spent the first six years of my life living in France.
Giving my name to the hostess, she leads me to a table in the far corner of the room where Andres DeAnde already sits with a glass of amber liquid. He raises it toward me before bringing it to his mouth.
“You made it,” he says, taking a drink before tilting his glass toward the hostess, indicating he’d like another.
“I’ll have your server bring one over,” she says to him before turning to me. “Can I get you a—“
