I study his profile. “Are you going to freak out again now?”
“Beckett, I’m never gonna be perfect.”
“I’m not asking you to be. I know I have my own hangups, so I would never ask that of anyone. Just… don’t regret me to my face.”
“Baby, I do not regret kissing you or sucking your brains out through your cock.” He pulls me in and I snuggle into his side like he said something whoreishly romantic. He kisses the top of my head.
“I’m so fucking sorry I made you feel like I did,” he goes on. “I came back to tell you I’d been an idiot, but you were already gone. I got spooked, only way I know how to say it.”
“And here I thought big, bad Dom was unspookable.”
“So did I,” he admits quietly.
The honesty in it punches a hole in my chest.
“Are you ever gonna trust me enough to tell me what happened?” he asks.
“It’s not about trust. It’s… it’s about embarrassment.”
He tips his head. “What could you possibly be embarrassed about? Packing up and moving across the country to study and become an amazing chef? That’s not exactly a tragic origin story.”
“Yeah, too bad I couldn’t hack it.” I say, rolling my eyes at myself.
“Beckett.” His voice drops, that gentle warning thing that makes you listen. “Why do you cook?”
“Because I like putting different ingredients together and making something that tastes good—so good you crave it. Because… because I love food.”
“And why did you fly off to California?”
“So I could learn how to do that better.” I squint at him. “Where are you going with this, Dom? You don’t know why I came back. For all you know, I was my professor’s worst nightmare.”
“I know you,” he says.
“No, you?—”
“Wait.” He shifts, turning so we’re face to face, knees pressed together. It’s Dom in lecture mode. Worse than Jaxon, because when Dom decides to talk, everyone shuts the fuck up.
“I know you,” he repeats. His hand curls around the side of my neck, thumb warm at my jaw. “I know the man you are right now. When I asked why you cook, not once did you say, ‘So I can have my name on some pretentious menu in a fancy restaurant.’”
“I don’t want that,” I admit. “At least not anymore. I’ve decided it’s not the kind of life I want for myself.”
“What happened to make you decide that?”
I hesitate, then exhale. “I looked around and realized everyone near me would do anything to get ahead. Lie, cheat, use. And then I went and fell for the oldest trick in the book.”
“What trick?” he asks, voice careful.
“Make someone fall for you so you can steal what’s theirs. In my case, my grandmother’s recipes.”
My stomach twists as I look up at him, braced for judgment. Pity. Thehow could you be that stupidlook.
Instead, his eyes flare. His jaw sets. “What the fuck,” Dom growls.
“Yep,” I say bitterly. “Then I realized that besides Lucas, I didn’ttrust anyone out there. So I pivoted. I want to share the joy of cooking with everyone, and what better way than to publish a cookbook featuring my grandmother’s recipes. And when I thought about starting over, I thought of Finn. He got out and did it right when he left his family so he could surround himself with better people. His found family.” I shrug. “If he could rebuild, maybe I could too.”
“All because of you, I might add.”
I make a face. “That’s a stretch.”
