I roll my eyes. “That’s such a cliché example.”
“Doesn’t make it less true.” He shrugs. “Look, I don’t know much about business, but Idoknow that people who mock others for trying are usually the ones too scared to try anything themselves.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words. “How did you get so wise?”
“Texas wisdom,” he drawls, exaggerating his accent. “Comes free with the cowboy boots.”
I actually laugh—a real laugh, not the hollow sound from earlier. “Why do I get the feeling that you’ve never worn cowboy boots in your life.”
“Shows what you know,” he counters, wiping down the table with smooth, practiced motions. “I used to have a pair with little basketballs embroidered on them when I was eight.”
The mental image of a miniature Dominic in basketball cowboy boots is almost too much. “Please tell me there’s photographic evidence.”
He nods. “My brother has them under lock and key for blackmail purposes.”
We fall into a comfortable silence again as we finish the cleaning. The lounge looks almost back to normal now, with no evidence of my humiliating failure. I’m just reaching for the last plate when Dom’s hand brushes against mine, his calloused fingers grazing my knuckles.
A jolt of something electric shoots up my arm, and I jerk back instinctively, nearly dropping the plate.
“Sorry,” Dom mutters, looking equally startled.
“No, it’s—it’s fine,” I stammer, suddenly hyperaware of how close we’re standing.
He takes the plate carefully, his eyes not leaving mine. “Those women were wrong, you know.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “About what?”
“About you not being cut out for business,” he clarifies, setting the plate in the bin.
“You don’t even know me,” I say softly. “Not really.”
Dom shrugs, those massive shoulders lifting and falling. “I know enough. I know you’re persistent. I know you don’t give up easily. And I know,” he adds, a hint of teasing in his voice, “that you have great taste in pizza, and you’re weirdly good at baking cookies.”
Despite everything I feel, a smile tugs at my lips. “The bar is literally on the floor if that’s what impresses you.”
“I’m a simple man.” He smirks. “But seriously, Nicole. Don’t let those women get to you. They’re just … noise.”
He says it with such conviction that for a moment, I believe him.
Maybe I’m not the failure everyone thinks I am.
Maybe I can find something else that fits…
Chapter Twelve
Dominic
“Thanks again for helping me with all this.” Nicole shoots me a grateful smile as we step onto the elevator. Cocoa is hopping up and down, the leash tugging at her arm in a way that makes me wince. “You can just set that stuff by my door when we get up there.”
“I really don’t mind. It gives me something to do,” I say, carefully balancing the leftover food trays against my chest. Today didn’t go the way Nicole wanted it to, and honestly, I just want to help cheer her up.
The elevator pings and the doors whir open. She lets out a heavy sigh as Cocoa darts out, jerking on her arm again. I step out behindher, carrying the Korean barbecue that makes my stomach growl regardless of the fact that I’ve already eaten several meals today.
Nicole shifts her stack of things to her left arm and then punches in the code to her apartment. I hurry to use my body to hold her apartment door open for her.
She smiles and then dumps her things onto the kitchen counter and whirls around, already scanning the space for what to do next. “Okay, so what do I owe you for the manual labor?” She giggles. “You want to take some of that home?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t tell you no…” I set the food trays down.
