“Holy shit, that went way better than I thought!” Sighing in relief, I lock the front door after our last customers trail out into the night. Collapsing on the worn couch near the front window, I try to catch my breath. Sure, I sweat most of the night, and I’m certain my face has been beet red for the last hour. But tonight was beyond a success. We had the right amount of prosecco and cookies, and even better, we sold 220% of the goal we had set for the event.
I notice Dominic is already starting to clean up, stacking chairs near the break room. He slid tables back into place with practiced ease, his sleeves rolled to the elbow. Earlier, I’d caught glimpses of him leaning in to chat with attendees and their partners, his usual sharp edges softened into polite smiles. He kept the register manned like it was second nature, ready with a nod or a quick word whenever someone stepped up. Between sales, he drifted back to the refreshment table, topping off pitchers and straightening trays before anyone could notice they’d been touched. Watching him move through the evening—efficient, attentive, and unexpectedly warm—I found myself quietly impressed.
“Dom, chill out for a sec.” Patting the spot on the couch next to me, I wave him over.
He pauses, eyeing me warily. “Wouldn’t you rather finish cleaning up so we can get home?”
I realize it’s after ten pm and I have no idea what personal plans he might have after work, but I pat the empty spot again. “Yeah, but have a seat. Just for a minute.” Dominic hesitates until I say, “Please?”
That little word has him walking over and sitting down next to me with a huff. For a moment, I just drink him in— long legs and thick thighs spread wide as he sits back on the couch, resting his elbow on the arm, propping up his face to look back at me. His expression is curious, dark eyes roaming up and down my body before finally settling on my face.
“Okay… so why are we sitting here?”
“It’s just something I like to do after events. Just take a moment to acknowledge we did a good job. I mean, I even got the perfect amount of drinks and stuff!” I gesture to the small table where some cookies are left and only a quarter of the last bottle of prosecco sits.
Dominic blushes an adorable shade of pink and looks down at his shoes. “Yeah, it went really well.”
“What?” Leaning forward, I try to catch his gaze but he keeps his eyes trained on the floor. “Dominic, am I missing something?”
He sighs and tilts his head up toward the ceiling. “Can’t you just bask in the glory of a perfect night? Why do you always have to ask so many questions?”
“Because I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me. Did I calculate the numbers wrong? Or did?—”
“I ran out twice to pick up more drinks and cookies.” Dominic admits quickly, turning his head to give me an embarrassed smile.
“You did what?” I whisper, a mix of mortification and gratefulness pooling in the pit of my stomach. Part of me wants to believe he’s lying— I never even noticed him missing during the event. The other part of me stubbornly believes I did purchase enough for the event.
Dominic moves a large, warm hand over mine where it rests on the middle of the couch. It’s a delicate, reassuring touch. My breath catches in my throat and the butterflies from earlier come swooping back.
“I knew how important this event was to you,” he says softly, “and if I had to run across the street to grab a few things here and there to keep things seamless? It was worth it.”
Blinking furiously against the emotion rising in my chest, I shake my head. “But… why?”
“You were on fire tonight. I wanted to let you shine. You didn’t need to be stressed about the wine or the cookies.” Dominic leans closer to me, giving my hand a squeeze. Clearly my expression doesn’t convey I’m convinced, so he says softly, “Because you’re worth it, Pea.”
All the delusional wondering from earlier flashes through my brain; it’s like live wires crossing, sparks igniting, bridging the distance between us on this couch. Was I experiencing this moment the way he intended? Am I reading into this? Slowly, I lean closer to him and hope against hope that he meets me halfway and kisses me.
But he doesn’t. Clearing his throat, Dominic jumps to his feet, rubbing his hands together as if he’s chilled.
“I should probably get those chairs into the storage room,” he says, quickly striding to the stack. “Do you need me to hangaround while you lock up?” Dom looks at me with an expression that tells me he’s hoping I say no. So I do.
“Nah, I’ve got it.” Standing up, I struggle to steady my voice. I give him the world’s most awkward wave. What am I doing? My hand feels like a limp flag, and I mentally scold myself for my social ineptitude.Penelope Elizabeth Adams, you idiot!“Thanks for all of your help tonight. You really saved the day,” I manage to say through a forced smile.
“It was nothing,” Dominic says, nodding before gathering the stack in his strong arms and disappearing into the break room.
He’s wrong. I don’t know what it was, but it definitely wasn’t nothing. Somehow I know that the butterflies he brought to life will remain as long as he’s here in Prairie Ridge.
FOUR
february
DOMINIC
One thingI’ve learned about working at a bookstore, specifically a romance book store, is that we spend an awful lot of time standing around talking about books. In-depth, detailed discussions about characters, plots, and what “should” have happened. Sometimes this involves customers, but most of the time, it’s just us bored employees sitting around talking. Grace, another employee at the store, is currently on a rant about which characters are not in the “right” relationships.
“I’m just saying, there is no way she’s his fated mate!” Grace slaps her hand on the counter.
“Mhmm.” I’m too busy scribbling words on a piece of receipt paper to pay attention. I should also clarify that I rarely partake in these conversations, even though I’ve read almost all of the hotly debated books.
