“No.”
He rolls his thick, muscled neck around his shoulders. “All right then.” He accelerates once more and we take a sharp right.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“Are you and Nate fighting?”
His jaw tenses, but he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “No. I’ve decided you two are adults. I’ll let you handle your own business.”
It can’t be that easy. My stomach drops. “Dom?”
“What?”
“You know what,” I sigh, “I’ve worried about this all night. Tell me you two aren’t into it because of me.”
“Not because of you, sweetheart. Because he didn’t have the respect for either of us.
I grab the door handle as he gasses it again, the car roaring beneath me, and then whips a quick left. “Ford is bringing Lincoln,” I tell him.
“Great.”
“I know Nate didn’t really hit it off with Lincoln, but he’s not a bad guy,” I insist. “He’s funny and loves sports and really is a big kid. I think you’d like him if you gave him a chance.”
“I bet I’ll love him,” he says, the sarcasm unmistakable. “And two against one should be a blast.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s just coming because they are going golfing afterwards right near the restaurant. This isn’t a big conspiracy or something.”
“Tell you the truth,” he says, piloting the Camaro into the parking lot, “I’m fairly certain I could take the both of them. I’m not really worried.”
“Hey, now,” I say, “my brothers are no joke! Ford is a legit badass and Lincoln was a professional baseball player.”
“They golf, Cam.” He flips off the ignition and looks at me. A huge, shaky sigh of relief pushes past my lips as I see the hint of playfulness in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure golfing removes any badges of bad-assery they may have.”
“Whatever you say,” I grin. “But don’t get Ford on the ground. I’ve seen him in action.”
“I’m sure,” he teases.
“Hey, just offering you a little insight. Take it or leave it.”
When he doesn’t answer, I look at him. Studying his profile, I can’t believe how good-looking he is. Even though I’ve seen him a thousand times, it catches me off-guard.
His skin is the perfect tan, the scruff on his cheeks makes my fingers itch to touch it. There’s a little bend in his nose. He says it’s from a right hand in a boxing match when he was a teenager. On anyone else, it would look like it needs fixed. On him, it’s sexy.
He takes a breath, holds it, and looks at me. Sucking in a breath of my own, I give him a smile—a real one.
“There we go,” he says, twisting his lips to hide a smile.
“What?”
“I’ve missed that smile.” He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair out of my face. “You look really pretty today. I don’t think I told you that.”
“You didn’t. You were too busy being mad at me.”
That does it. He grins at me, the sexy one that melts me from the inside out.
“Are you still mad at me?”