I stride slowly toward her. “I mean, it could be a good investment. I’d just have to advertise and hire a couple of teachers.”
“That would be amazing,” she says softly.
“You know anyone?” I ask.
“Do I know anyone what?” she asks, looking up at me.
“Do you know anyone who’d want to teach dance?” I ask and she just studies me, but a smile forms in the corners of her mouth.
“What are you trying to say, Dominic?” she asks, and I break character with a chuckle.
“I mean, if you wanted this to be a dance studio, if you wanted to teach dance and bring in other instructors, I can make that happen,” I tell her, and her jaw drops.
“You can?” she asks.
“Easy,” I say, and her face lights up.
“Oh my god!” she screams. “Okay, I’d paint this wall back here black for jazz, maybe with some modern cluster chandeliers here. And then I’d open up these windows at the top for light, and the bar would go here. And—” Suddenly she stops. “Sorry, I’m totally steamrolling this.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell her, moving to stand in front of her. “Steamroll all you want. I’d love to see you live out your dreams.”
“Those dreams have been on the back burner for a long time,” she says hesitantly. “Honestly, I don’t know how much heat is even under them anymore.”
“I do,” I say, pulling her close to me. “And I think it’s been on simmer for far too long, from the sounds of it.”
“Yeah?” she asks, gazing up at me, and I clip her chin between my fingers.
“Yeah. I think it’s time to bring it back to the front,” I say, and I press my lips to hers.
Chapter 29
Dominic
I takea sip of scotch and toss it back, sucking air between my teeth with the bite. I’m usually a bourbon man, sometimes rye. But anytime my father calls me on short notice and says he wants to have dinner, I need scotch. It’s not that I’m intimidated by the man. I’m not. I haven’t been since I was a junior in high school. No, Johnny Walker is the buffer that keeps me from punching my dad in the teeth.
“What do you think he wants?” Mila asks as I fix my tie.
“Who knows,” I tell her. “Probably to hound me about something.”
“Like what?” she asks, turning me and shoving my hands down to my sides.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking over your tie-tying,” she grumbles. Honestly, it’s quite comical. She’s in cotton shorts and her ass looks great. Of course, it always looks great. She’s also barefoot and struggling to reach my neck. “I just don’t understand what he can possibly criticize you about,” she huffs, and it’s kind of cute.
“Oh trust me, he can always think of something,” I say, taking back over my tie situation as if I don’t wear one every day of my life. “My company isn’t number one, my building is too short, and my house isn’t high enough in the hills.”
“You better be joking,” she snaps, and I chuckle.
“I wish I was,” I say.
Mila is standing in front of me with her hip popped and her arms crossed, looking like if my dad were here right now, she’d start a fight with him. And probably win.
“If I had to guess, he’s going to give me shit about Rafe taking the governor job. I’ll tell him I would have lost money over it, and he’ll find another way to try to make me feel inadequate, emphasis on try. I’ll order another drink, pound it, tell him I have a meeting and have to go. Then I’ll take my frustration out on Rafe in the ring.”
“All of that sounds…awful,” she says with a frown.
“It is what it is,” I say, unable to resist planting a kiss on that delicious pout of hers. “I’ll be back. Try to have fun.”
