Page 20 of Down Knot Out
She hums, the sound drowsy and content. “That’s what Nathaniel said.”
I stroke her hair. “Nathaniel is very wise.”
Dominic chuckles, bending to rub his cheek against mine, his scent filled with contentment. He smooths a hand over Chloe’s head in a quiet goodnight before he straightens and flicks off the light, leaving us alone together in the quiet dark.
As I start to drift off, Chloe shifts, murmuring so faint I almost miss it, “I’m scared.”
My arms tighten around her. “Of what?”
She doesn’t answer right away, her breath warm puffs on my collarbone. Then, soft as a secret, she whispers, “That this won’t last. That I won’t be allowed happiness.”
Heart clenching, I press a kiss to her hair. “It will, and you are.”
But in the darkness, with sleep tugging at the edges of my mind, I can’t shake the uneasy curl in my gut that says something is coming that could tear all of this apart.
Chapter Seven
Chloe
Dominic shifts uncomfortably, the chair in the hospital waiting room squeaking with every movement, and his knee bumps mine. We both freeze for a heartbeat, then he shifts again, withdrawing the touch.
It leaves my pulse doing funny things, though, so I focus on how the fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting everyone in the same sickly shade of pale. Focus on the rustle of pages turning as the woman across from us flips through a magazine. Focus on the antiseptic smells and the way Dominic’s citrus and musk pheromones help make it more bearable.
His leg brushes mine again as he adjusts his position for the fifth time in as many minutes, and Ipretend not to notice the electric current racing up my thigh.
At the front of the small room, a receptionist taps at her keyboard behind a glass partition. The rhythmic clicking blends with the murmur of conversations and occasional beeps from deeper within the building.
The waiting room temperature hovers at a perfect level for discomfort, not cold enough to complain, but cool enough to raise goose bumps along my bare arms. I rub my palms over them, wondering if someone left a jacket in the SUV that the guys leave parked at the docks for town excursions.
“You know you didn’t have to come,” Dominic says, his voice pitched for my ears alone.
I focus on a health poster across the room with a diagram of a brain sectioned by colors. “You shouldn’t drive with a head injury.”
“I could have called a rideshare.”
“And miss the chance to sit in these luxurious chairs?” My fingers trace the crack in the vinyl beneath my thigh. “Besides, I’m the only one with a flexible schedule.”
What I don’t say is that I’m worried about him. He shouldn’t still be in pain from hitting his head,and his doctor agreed, which is why we’re here, waiting for an X-ray to rule out anything serious.
Dominic winces, and his fingers lift to his temple, massaging in small circles. The motion dislodges a few strands of black hair from his French braid to frame his face and soften his sharp features.
“Are the lights hurting your head?” I ask, though the answer is written across his furrowed brow.
“I’m fine.” He searches my expression. “And thanks for coming. I appreciate it.”
A flutter starts in my chest, and I reach up to fiddle with the collar of my shirt, still missing my lucky shamrock necklace. Everything started going wrong the second I lost it.
Dominic’s gaze drops to my throat before rising again. “How’s your book coming along?”
“Oh, you know…” I flap my hand. “It’s… coming. One painful sentence at a time. When I’m not just staring at the screen, willing the words to jump from my brain straight to the page. Just splat them out. I can fix a splat. I can’t fix nothing being written.”
“You never struggled with term papers.” He shifts in his seat to face me, his knee bumping mine. “Always got them done so fast.”
“That’s different.” I stare at that point of contact as the flutter in my chest turns to a tornado. “The teacher assigned the topic.”
“But I thought you had your topic.” He rests his arm along the back of our chairs, almost embracing me, but not. “That’s what your outline is, right? So just whip out your term papers based on that.”
I give him an annoyed glare. “How many pages was your longest term paper?”
