“Yes,” he says instantly, the smile dropping from his cheeks. “I don’t like you risking yourself. Not for Nate, not for Ryder, not for anyone. And I’m pretty pissed off no one thought I should know about this.”
“Okay, you’re mad. What does that mean?” I ask, the shakiness in my voice back.
“I don’t know,” he says sadly. “Let’s get through this lunch before we try to hash that out.”
He hops out of the car and opens my door before I can get my buckle off. Swinging it open and
offering me a hand, he pulls me to my feet. We stand only inches away, both fighting our natural inclination to kiss or hug or make contact of some kind.
“You look really nice today,” I tell him. “If you weren’t mad at me, I might’ve said you looked super sexy in khakis, but you are mad and I don’t want to go thinking those kind of thoughts about you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it might be a lonely night tonight.”
We turn towards the door, him a step behind me. “You were right about one thing, Cam.”
“What’s that?”
He steps around me and opens the door to Hillary’s House, his brows tugged together. “It may be a lonely night.”
Dominic
I’VE DRIVEN BY THIS PLACE a hundred times in my life but never stopped. As soon as I step foot in Hillary’s House, it’s everything I thought it would be—an uppity place that tries so hard not to be. It’s like when we go to a fast food place and get the triple burger with bacon and curly fries instead of the burger that costs a buck off the discount menu . . . only in reverse. It’s our way of feeling fancy. This is their way of feeling like an everyday man. Someone just needs to clue them in that the everyday man doesn’t walk around in loafers or pearls.
A stillness settles over me, causing my palms that were a little sweaty to dry, as I spot what has to be her brothers at a table in the back. This happens before I walk into the ring. It’s a silence that trickles from the top of my head, through my chest, over my gut, and down to my feet. It washes through my veins and allows me to focus on the task, or men, at hand.
Some fighters get amped up, go nuts, before the bell rings. Not me. It’s a waste of energy. I need all of mine on the job to be done. Especially today.
Cam gives me a reassuring look as we make our way through the restaurant. There’s a sparkle in her eye, one I see often when she talks about her family. It’s fascinating. The idea of having a family as close-knit as the Landry’s is completely alien to me. She has friends, like Joy, but the stories she shares are always of her sister or one of her brothers or one of their wives.
We approach the table and I set my gaze on the two men. I’ve seen them before on television for different things, mostly charity events and political campaigns. At the moment, I wish I’d paid more fucking attention.
This is not my element, and it’s both of them versus me. If I didn’t have this loan bullshit on my mind and all of the related complications, I’d feel better about this.
Ford and Lincoln look enough alike to undeniably be brothers, yet one is wider and blonder and the other leaner and darker. The blond one laughs, shaking his head at the other as we approach.
“Hey, guys,” Camilla says. The forced cheeriness goes unmissed by all of us. Their heads whip up, doing a quick fly-by of Cam and then land on me. “Dominic, this is Ford,” she says pointing to the lighter-haired one. “And this is Lincoln.”
“Hey, Dominic,” Ford says, standing. He’s about my height and weight with a clean look about him. There’s no doubt he’s assessing me, but he’s classy enough about it. “Nice to meet you, man.”
“Same here.”
We exchange a firm handshake and courteous, yet guarded nods, as we take our seats. My chest tingles, burning with the anticipation of what’s to come. It’s the same sensation I experience as I wait for the referee to start a fight. It’s the unknown, not sure what will be coming your way but knowing you better be bringing your A-game because your opponent sure as hell is.
Camilla settles in to my right as I finish my introductions. I flash her the best smile I can, maybe for more my own reassurance than hers, before resting my eyes on Lincoln.
He’s sitting across from me, a wide smirk on his face. Holding back a chuckle, because that won’t get me anywhere, I’d put money that’s the exact face that made Nate want to send Lincoln’s teeth across the bar.
“Lincoln,” I say, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” He shakes my hand, his grip stronger than it needs to be. I return it with as much force as he’s giving plus another couple pounds per square inch. The fucker grins. “Dominic, was it?”
“Yeah. Dominic Hughes.”
“Where have I heard that name before?”
I shrug, sitting down. “Who knows? It’s a small world.”