Page 48 of Sweet Shots

Me: Fine.

Calculating how much time it’ll take to get ready, I figure I have at least twenty more minutes to lounge around and do nothing. So that’s what I do. When my time is up, I get up, shower, and spend way too long figuring out what to wear.

Me: When you said “dress nice” … how nice are we talking?

Asshole Neighbor: I’ll ignore the fact you should be here in five minutes.

The text that comes in after that is an image.

“Fuck,” I breathe out when I open it up. It’s a photo he took of himself in the mirror with that sexy smirk on his lips. He’s in a blue suit and a white shirt with the top few buttons open. So, fancy but casual?

Taking a page from his book, I go for my blue suit, too. Only mine is plaid and comes with a vest that I won’t wear tonightbecause it feels like too much. It’s a good thing I asked because I’d been looking at khakis and sweaters.

I ignore my phone that’s blowing up with texts, having a feeling it’s him because I’m officially late. Don’t care. I spend time getting ready, fixing my hair just right, and even spritz on some cologne, which I don’t typically do.

Why the hell am I doing this?

When I’m finished, I head into the bathroom to get a better look.

Well, damn. When’s the last time I looked this good? It’s been a while.

Making sure I have everything I need—phone, wallet, keys—I put down some food for CP and head out the door.

The walk to the house on the side of mine is getting way too familiar. I do it too often.

I raise my hand to ring the bell, but the door is pulled open, causing me to look up.

Dominic chews on his bottom lip as he takes me in, slowly raking his eyes from my feet all the way to my face. The heat in his gaze has my skin growing hot, and I shift on my feet, feeling… way too split open.

“You look… fuck,” he nearly growls. He steps outside, closing his door, and hurries down the stairs. “If you don’t get your ass down here, we won’t be leaving anytime soon,” he calls out.

I move down the steps and get into his pretentious car with a smile on my face.

“This is not what I was expecting,” I say as I look around.

The restaurant we’re at is sparkling—literally. The walls are a deep blue, the table clothes are sheer, all decorated with crystal vases and candles. The lights hanging from the ceiling are made of crystal, too, the light glimmering off everything, causing it to sparkle.

“Would you have preferred McDonald’s?”

I cringe. “I hate McDonald’s.”

“Noted.”

“Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Kyle, and I’ll be your server tonight.” The waiter is young and cheery. Too cheery for me to want to deal with today. “Can I get you started on something to drink? Perhaps a bottle of wine or some bourbon?”

“We’ll take a bottle of your most popular white, please,” Dominic says with practiced politeness.

“Certainly. I’ll be back shortly.”

I raise a brow at Dominic.

“Don’t act like you don’t like when I take control.” He reaches for his water and takes a small sip.

I do like it and that’s the problem. Ican’tlike it. I can’t rely on people to do things for me because that never works out. They never stay.

“So, I have some really exciting news, and I was going to wait to share it, but I can’t,” he says.

“Okay?”

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