carry all of this to the restaurant? You have a cab waiting?”
Dom coughed. Or laughed, it didn’t matter.
She slid in her credit card with the utmost lack of concern. “Why should I do that when I’ve got free labor?” She inclined her head at Dom, without so much as a glance.
Mr. Stein looked over at him. “He’s going to ruin his good shirt.”
“I’m sure he has more.”
No mistaking Dom’s laugh this time.
Finally, after she signed the chip machine, she looked at him and smiled. “Although I’ll understand if you need to pass. I’m sure it’s pretty heavy.”
Okay, she deserved the eye roll. When he actually lifted the box, her gaze went straight to his biceps, and she had to swallow real quick, because yes, the guy really did work out. Shit. He’d always had a good body, but now he was even sleeker with broad shoulders and narrow hips.
Aware she was staring, she grabbed the canvas bag. With an amused gleam in his eyes, Mr. Stein glanced from her to Dom, then held out the paper sack for her.
“Lead on, Macduff,” Dom said.
Sara opened her mouth, but before she could correct him, he said, “Yeah, I know it’s not the original quote, but it was fun watching your nose twitch.”
“It did not,” she said, shifting the bag in her right arm to a more comfortable position. “Besides, I was going to say I was joking. I can take a cab if you would just help me get the box—”
He laughed and walked out of the store.
She had little choice but to catch up with him.
This whole thing had slipped out of her control. Not in a terrible way, but she most definitely wasn’t in her comfort zone. “I thought you had to be somewhere,” she said, as they stopped at the corner of Prince Street.
“I do, but not until my one-thirty interview.”
“What for?”
“A public relations firm. Oh, and I need to get a trim,” he said, straining to get a look at his watch. “Gotta make a good impression.”
“I think you’re going to do fine in that department,” she said, as they reached the end of the block. Any PR firm in the country would be nuts not to hire Dom on the spot.
“Hey, was that a compliment?” Dom said. “Better be careful—you don’t want me getting a big head.”
“Too late for that.”
Dom waited until she met his gaze. “Was that nice?”
His eyes weren’t as dark with the morning sunlight bringing out tiny gold flecks. But they were still warm and full of life. She remembered him smiling a lot as a kid. Though why not? He’d had it made even before he’d uttered his first word.
Something else she noticed—he wasn’t smiling now.
“I was joking,” she muttered and started to cross the street.
A loud honk nearly shattered her eardrums. She’d almost walked right into a passing cab.
She stepped back onto the sidewalk, grateful she hadn’t dropped the bags.
“Do me a favor,” Dom said.
“What’s that?” Reluctantly, she looked at him.
“Get that for me.” With a jut of his chin, he glanced up.
A lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead.
Oh, God.
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Just push it back.” He frowned at her as if she was being a twit, which she totally deserved. “Here, give me one of those.”
“It’s okay. I got it.” She shifted the bags until she had a free hand, at least for a few seconds, and swept back the dark silky strands.
She was touching Dominic Paladino’s hair. With all the aplomb of a geeky, awkward fifteen-year-old.
The stubborn lock fell forward again.
“Don’t be so gentle. Just push it all the way back.” He ducked so she could reach the top of his head, and she combed his hair straight back until her fingers were buried completely in the thick mane.
“You should put some stuff in it,” she murmured, their faces so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. “You know, to keep it in place.”
“Like a gel?” He straightened, frowning, and her hand fell away. Just as the bag cradled by her left arm almost did. “Nope. Never gonna happen. I just need a trim.”
Foot traffic had picked up in the last few minutes, probably because it was close to lunchtime. And while they weren’t blocking the sidewalk, several people sighed dramatically as they skirted them. Others smiled and said hello to Dom.
Sara gasped. Lunchtime!
She glanced at Dom’s slim gold watch. “Shit.”
“What?”
“I need to hurry. The lunch crowd will be coming in soon.” She was already on the move, and Dom had no trouble keeping up with her.
When they turned the corner, she spotted the Spicy Meatball food truck parked almost directly in front of Morretti’s. Her blood pressure shot through the roof, and before she knew it she was holding on to her bags for dear life and rushing toward the interlopers.
“Hey, Sara. Wait.”
She heard Dom, but she didn’t have time to stop and explain. He’d see the problem soon enough. Already two people were standing off to the side waiting to order, as the scumbag prepared for the lunch crowd.
“Hey,” she said, moving in as close as she could to the truck window. “Again? You have to park right in front of our entrance? That’s just taking things too damn far. Come on. Why can’t you just go back to where you used to park?”
The guy, who must have been in his midthirties, scruffy and already sweating even though it wasn’t that hot out, barely glanced up before he went back to ignoring her.
“I should have you arrested,” Sara said. “They’ll take your damn license. I bet it’s not even legitimate, probably black market.”
The man and woman waiting to order moved closer to the window and stared at her, as if they were watching a reality show. Sara didn’t care about that, but she wished they’d go away so she didn’t have to watch her language. “I’m talking to you,” she said, adding, “asshole” at a lower pitch. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? There’s a whole city for you to sell to. This is how my family makes our living. Don’t you have any conscience?”
“I’d like to know that, too,” Dom said, suddenly right by her side. His voice was raised, although not quite as loud as hers had gotten.
“Look, I got a right to park here,” the guy said. “You do what you gotta do. I do what I gotta do. But if you don’t let the customers get to the window, I’m gonna call the cops.”
Dom leaned in closer to Sara. “I thought you were going to do that?” He paused to study her, then whispered, “Is he parked legally?”
“What he’s doing is wrong, and it’s no accident he’s parked right here. I’ve asked him nicely. He ignored me. But this is the third time...”
Dom looked at the guy. “Come on, man. You can clearly see her point. There are other places to park around here. Why do you have to poach on a neighborhood restaurant?”
“Get lost, Popeye. This ain’t your business.” He turned to the people behind Sara.
“How about you get lost?”