passion between them. They should get pissed at each other once in a while, shouldn’t they? Every time they used to make up, he was only more grateful to have her. Their first argument in recent memory had happened the night she left.
That thought hardening his jaw, Dominic shouldered the bags of equipment he was carrying and picked up his pace, catching up with Rosie as they entered the nature preserve. Maybe now was a good time to remind her of the fire between them—and he didn’t mean the sexual inferno that never waned. Was there anything at stake between two people who couldn’t conjure up enough feeling between them to have a decent fight? Dominic didn’t think so.
Their stakes had never lowered. They’d just been hidden. He’d have to jog her memory.
“Was this therapy technique listed in the Yelp reviews?”
She slapped at a mosquito on her arm. “Which technique is that?”
“The technique where we pay money to a therapist, and in return, he assigns us manual labor.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Maybe you didn’t scroll down far enough.”
“I scrolled.” They entered a clearing and she turned on her sneakered heel. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”
Maybe. “Nope.” He dropped the canvas bag filled with tent poles. “We’ve had some good ones, though, haven’t we? Remember that romantic phase you went through when we were seventeen, reading those books about vampires and werewolves?”
“Of course I remember them.” Rosie surveyed the area. “Actually, I’ve been considering a reread—”
“Christ. Please don’t.”
A laugh puffed out of her, genuine curiosity flitting across her gorgeous face. “Why?”
“You really don’t remember, Rosie? The weeks you spent reading those books were the worst of my life. Nothing short of turning pale and granting you immortality would make you happy. You locked yourself in a closet and sent me one-word text messages until I was ready to lose my mind.”
She winced. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Oh yeah?” Dominic echoed, using his boot to kick aside some fallen leaves, creating a spot to pitch the tent. Then he started to remove the nylon shelter and poles from their bag, laying them out in order. “You remember how we worked that one out?”
“Yes,” she murmured, brow furrowing. “You stopped texting me. You wouldn’t even respond.”
“And you showed up at my door breathing fire.”
Color rose on her cheeks. “I think that’s a minor exaggeration.”
Dominic closed the distance between them, coming near enough to make her suck in a breath, but remaining far enough away that there was no chance of them touching. “I believe your exact words were ‘Your thumbs better be broken, asshole.’”
Rosie gasped. “I never said that.”
“I added the ‘asshole’ part. You said the rest.” He chanced another step closer, and the awareness between them grew to ten times the size of the forest. “I got angry, too. Remember?”
“Of course I remember.” She stared off over his shoulder for a moment, then covered her face with her hands. “I think I said, ‘If you loved me, you’d understand what I’m going through.’”
“And I said, ‘I do love you, Rosie. That’s why I want to go through it with you.’”
The intensity between them was building so much, Dominic was barely aware of their surroundings. There was only Rosie. They gravitated closer, but she caught herself at the last moment, before their bodies could touch, stooping down and starting the process of sliding tent poles through their nylon sleeves.
“We were pretty dramatic back then, weren’t we?”
“We’ve still got some drama, honey girl,” Dominic said gruffly, joining her in a crouch. They worked in silence for a few minutes, and normally that would have been fine for Dominic. Silence was where he lived. In studying Rosie surreptitiously, he could see she wasn’t as comfortable with the lack of talking. Words. She needs words. “Tell me something about your day.”
“I’m missing a Just Us League meeting tonight, and I’m a little itchy thinking of them eating soggy takeout tacos instead of something I made.” Her head came up fast, before ducking back down. “Or did you mean something, like, work related?”
“Anything.”
She blew out a breath, seeming uncertain. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.”
Without thinking, he reached over and took her hand, holding it tightly within his own. God. God, this situation had gotten so fucking far away from him. “You can tell me anything.”
“I’ve been hiding Martha’s Hot Pockets.” Her expression was grave. “They explode all over the break-room microwave and she never cleans it up.”
Dominic swallowed a