Page 41 of You're The One
“Honestly? I think you’re a bit paranoid… and I would know.” She lets out a dry huff.
My brows pull together. “What areyouparanoid about?”
“Maybe paranoid isn’t the right word.” She squints, searching. “Just… worried about life.” The wine’s definitely loosening her tongue. This is the most she’s opened up to me in all the years I’ve known her, yet she’s barely said anything at all.
“What are you worried about?” I press, but she waves it off.
“Doesn’t matter. The point is, the women are all really great, Dom.”
The casual drop of my nickname zings through me. I don’t call her out. If I play it cool, maybe she’ll keep doing it.
“So, you think I made the right call, choosing Emma this week?”
Her gaze drifts to the view. There’s a long pause before she finally answers.
“Yeah. I think you two have a lot in common.” She looks back at me, her light blue eyes shinier from the wine. “You’re going to really like her.”
I nod. That’s the plan.
“Should we head back?” Her voice is softer than usual, a little unsure.
“Don’t you want to see the alpacas? Summer said you wouldn’t shut up about them on the ride here.”
So, I might have also used my time with Summer to get intel on how Mia’s doing. Ryan did tell me to keep an eye on her.
“Well, yeah, but?—”
“No buts. Let’s go.”
Of course, she can’t just let it go. “Wouldn’t you rather spend this time with one of the girls you actually like? I know Victoria is dying to get more time with you.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “I’ll spend time with them later.”
“Aren’t we heading back to the mansion soon?”
“Mia. Stop. Please. We’re already here.” We probably shaved a few minutes off the walk thanks to my frustration-fueled pace.
“Whatever. I’m just trying to be a good matchmaker.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t dock points.”
She smiles up at me again. As much as I hate that she overdid it with the wine, I can’t bring myself to curse whatever makes her smile come easier.
We meander along the fenced area in mostly comfortable silence, stopping when we reach a cluster of alpacas near the border. They’re weird creatures. All legs and fluff with beady, judgmental eyes. All right, maybe I’m imagining the judgment, but still.
One of them locks eyes with me for a solid ten seconds. For a moment, I think,okay, maybe they’re kind of cool—right before a wet glob of something smacks me right on the chin.
The fucker spat on me.
I’m still frozen in disgust when I register Mia’s breathless laugh. The kind that’s mostly gasps for air and almost no actual sound.
“I’m glad you find this funny.” I wipe the spit off my chin and swipe my hand toward her face, just to mess with her.
She yelps and dodges me, darting a few feet away. “Looks like you’re the one getting a spit nickname,” she wheezes between giggles.
I follow, just close enough to make her squeal again, though I’ve got no plans of sharing the alpaca germs.
She slows, clutching her stomach, still trying to catch her breath. “Oh, I don’t feel so good,” she mumbles.
