The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “I once helped a princess find her lost cat.”
I dropped my glass against the table. “You did not. A princess?”
“Of an Eastern European royal house. Her family wasn’t in power anymore, but she was fabulously wealthy. I’ll never forget. She was wearing this ornate, detailed cocktail dress, and she kept crying about how her pet was a Sphynx cat and saying that he must have felt extra exposed because Sphynx cats don’t have fur.”
I laughed, my face filling with a grin. “But you found the cat?”
“We went up and down streets in the East Village until three in the morning, but then I spotted him in a tiny park, napping beside a hippie lady who was playing guitar.”
“If you help out a princess, isn’t she supposed to make you a knight or something?”
“I was just in it for her accent. She had this beautiful way of speaking. Her pitch kept going higher, and she dragged out all of her vowels.” He shrugged, then shot me another smile. “I guess I was in it for the story, too. Like you said, you’ve got to have a good New York story. What about you?”
I blinked at him. “Oh, I’ve never gone to New York.”
“No, I mean a Denver story. Tell me a good one.”
It felt like we were bantering, and I remembered that he would get the same roguish look on his face when I watched him talking with friends from across the common area in the dorm. His cool, easy confidence made it easy to get wrapped up in the flow of the conversation.
Not to mention lost in his gaze.
“Let’s see…” I answered. “Oh, I know. You remember the cliff divers at Casa Bonita?”
“Of course. My grandparents took me there when I was a kid.”
“So did my parents.The most exciting restaurant in the world,” I said, making air quotes. “Well, during my senior year of college, I dated one of the cliff divers, who was also a senior.”
“The divers who jump off the fake cliffs in the middle of the restaurant are college students?”
I nodded, a smile creeping up my face as the gin drink went straight to my head. “For the most part, it turns out. Anyway, I was trying to get to the restaurant to get him his swimsuit, which he forgot at his apartment.” I tilted my glass back and forth. “Can’t jump thirty feet through the air and into an indoor pool without a swimsuit.”
“It would be ridiculous to try.”
“Except it was Apriltwentieth, and you know what that means.”
“Oh no,” he said, laughing.
“Denver’s very own marijuana holiday. So the streets were packed, and I was stuck in traffic and very convinced my new date was going to lose his job because of it. Which was when the sirens went off behind me.”
Dominick chuckled again, the laughter warming his face. “How could you get pulled over when you were stuck in traffic?”
“The officer turned out to be a regular at my shop. A real candy nut. He spotted me driving my car straight into the mess of confused stoners and knew me well enough that I wasn’t trying to go and partake. So then, being an absolute lifesaver, he caught me before I turned a corner and made my life worse, then got me back toward the highway on top of it.” I finished off the drink, then smiled to myself. “People are loyal to their candy suppliers.”
Dominick chuckled. “That’s the truth. But you can’t tell me you never enjoy the legal marijuana. It must go great with candy.”
I shook my head. “It’s not really my thing. I’m not one to indulge.”
He scoffed. “A little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?” I said, trying not to sound defensive.
He leaned forward, and when he dropped his voice down to a rumble, I realized he was teasing. “What does the sign say outside of your store?Candy will make you happy?”
“And it will,” I said. “Every time.”
“So why do you encourage other people to indulge if you don’t do it yourself?” he asked warmly. “Don’t you think you deserve it, too?”
“My father taught me the importance of restraint. I allow myself one candy per day, but never more than that.”
