Page 58 of The Best Wrong Move

I twirl in a circle with my arms out, giving him a full view. Silky fabric sashays around my hips, swirling gently around my ankles as I come to a full stop. “I love it so much,” I admit. “It’s the sweetest gift I’ve ever been given. Even better because it means you appreciated my drunken rambling at Cliff’s the other night. You didn’t find all that a bit silly?”

“Never.” He draws me in for a long hug. “You look as good as I imagined when I picked out that color for you. Compliments your best feature perfectly.”

“And which feature is that?” My heart starts pumping harder.

“Your eyes. They’re my favorite color. Like the ocean — when she’s feeling a bit feisty.”

God, I want him all over again. Right here on the counter, if I could.

“I’m glad I’ve done justice to your vision. There’s only one problem.”

He raises both eyebrows at me, waiting for me to spill it.

“Now that I’ve officially gotten a feel of what it would be like to live in that silly dream of mine, writing in your garden all afternoon, I might need to stay forever.” I pop another shrimp in my mouth. “I was able to pump out a few thousand words today, bringing the script to a much more manageable place than where it was before. It has me hopeful about finishing it before I have to go back to New York. Maybe even diving into a round of revisions, if there’s time.”

“I meant what I said about you being able to come here any time. I’m gone most days, so the place would be all yours. But, even when I’m here, I’d love to see you more.”

He plants a light kiss on my cheek, making everything in me stir. Wanting more. Then he bends over to open a small wine fridge behind the counter. “White or red?”

“Um, white?” I stare at all the food.And a real kiss, I want to add.

He pulls a chilled bottle of something out of the fridge and grabs two tall stem glasses from the shelf behind him. Then he gets to work opening the bottle, pouring just a tiny splash for me to taste. Exactly like in a fine restaurant.

I drain the glass and smile at him, holding it out for more.

“It’s delicious. Crisp and refreshing. But you’re going to have to order a pizza or something for yourself. I could devour this whole spread solo.” I lick my lips while he laughs.

Dom has transformed from a handyman who owns a townhouse with missing blinds into aTop Chefcooking fine food and pouring amazing wine in the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure what to think of it. While he’s been busy putting the pieces of my life back together, I still need to figure him out. So many things are still a mystery to me, but he never wants to talk about his life very much. I’m starting to wonder why.

“Honestly, you are living most people’s dream here. If my life could look like this every day — writing film scripts in a garden, while dressing like this.” I shake my bangles. “And drinking wine that tastes like it was poured down from heaven, you might never be rid of me.” And I totally mean it.

“Then drink up. And cheers to that.” He holds up his glass while winking at me. “Here’s to making this trip all about new beginnings. And leaving old lives on the shelf.”

We clink our glasses together, then both take a sip.

He grabs the towel off his shoulder and uses it to pull a pot of boiling crab legs off the stove, then opens the lid to release a cloud of steam.

I look around the great room. It looks far too beautiful and curated to have been designed without a professional. There’re silver photo frames scattered throughout, and a custom white driftwood coffee table nestled between an enormously oversized leather sofa that could easily fit fifteen adults across it. I have so many questions for him, namely what he does all day to afford a lifestyle like this. We’ll work our way up to the elephant in this palatially sized room, but I decide to start with an easy question.

“What can I do to help?” I step closer to assist him. Our bodies brush, but I don’t move aside when an extra rush of blood pounds through me. I can’t remember the last time a man’s mere presence threw all my senses into a frenzy. Just the proximity of Dom standing nearby is enough to make me feel reckless, with us all alone in a big empty house like this.

“Just keep me company. Take a seat. Drink some wine.” He waves some steam away with the lid of the pot.

“Can I ask you another question then?” I perch myself on a nearby bar stool.

“Anything,” he says.

“The other night, you asked me what type of life I would choose off a shelf. I never asked you the same question. But you look like you have everything you could ever want right here.”

“I do have an amazing life . . . But the life I’d choose is more complete than the one I’m living.” He gives me a sad kind of smile, putting his hands on his hips, as if debating whether or not to tell me. “I used to think I’d be fine all alone. I have my friends, my chosen family, but I’m starting to realize that there may be a few holes that I’ve never really been able to fill.”

“So, if you get to wake up every day surrounded by that ocean you can’t get enough of, in a home that you love,andyou own this little slice of paradise in the midst of it all, what else is missing? You seem genuinely happy. What else could you want?”

“Ah, well, that’s an excellent question.” He smiles. “Not everything is so black and white though. Plus, I don’t actually own this place.”

Chapter 36

“What?” I sit up on the stool and spin my head toward the front doors, starting to panic. Are the real owners about to walk in? Am I trespassing? “Whose yard have I been in all day?”

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