you okay?”
“Yeah,” he rasped, avoiding her eyes. “Ready to go?”
She nodded slowly and crossed to the passenger side. Dominic followed, opening the door for Rosie and boosting her onto the seat, his groin tightening at the flash of thigh as she buckled up and crossed her incredible legs. Apparently not even guilt could keep him from lusting after his wife. He wanted nothing more than to wait for the rest of the cars to leave, then drag her back inside and give her a nice, hard quickie up against the door in that tight dress.
And it would solve nothing except his incessant hunger for her. Momentarily.
Ignoring the curious look from Rosie, Dominic closed the passenger door and skirted around to the driver’s side, starting the truck engine a second later. Rosie read him directions off her phone, but apart from that, there was no conversation. Dominic wanted to ask her when she’d cooked the carbonada and if she’d used her mother’s recipe for the hearty soup, but everything sounded disingenuous in his head after he’d finally admitted to himself he’d let her dreams hang in limbo for so long. She’d been pining for something in secret while he’d worked toward an entirely different goal. All of which could have been avoided if he’d talked to his wife. Kept her close instead of at arm’s length where she could never suspect he wasn’t invincible.
“I think this is it,” Rosie murmured, prompting Dominic to set aside his thoughts and pull to a stop at the curb. After putting the truck in park, he leaned toward Rosie and they looked at the modest two-story home. It was lit up like Christmas.
She laid a hand on his arm and a current ran through his body. “We’ll get everyone organized and then we’ll go have dinner. Okay?”
“You’ll get everyone organized.” He cleared his throat hard and dislodged her hand, missing her touch the second it was gone. “You were impressive, honey girl. Back there. You like being a leader, don’t you?”
Dominic hardened his jaw and waited for her answer, even though he already knew what it was. Is this really who I am? A man who’d created an image of his wife that suited him and never noticed she had more inside of her, dying to get out?
“I think . . . maybe I’ve always had the ability to be one.”
He looked over to find her watching him with uncertainty.
“Do you think so?”
“Yes.” He wanted to take her hand back, to kiss her palm, but his own hands felt frozen. “Yes, Rosie. I think you have the ability to do anything.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Outside the truck, car doors closed, the Just Us League arriving en masse. Rosie gave him one final searching look before climbing out. Dominic carried the heavy stew toward the front door and Rosie held the baked goods. They were flanked by two dozen women with intention in their strides, and Dominic had to admit, they were pretty damn impressive. Next time someone on the construction site wanted to talk shit about the local women’s club, he was going to damn well set them straight.
Bethany reached the door first and knocked briskly, flipping back her blond hair and adjusting the collar of her long white coat. She had the kind of confidence Rosie deserved. The kind his wife might have if he’d taken the time to encourage her, to show he had faith in her.
The door opened to reveal a man Dominic recognized, confirming his earlier theory. Port Jefferson didn’t exactly appeal to tons of single men. It was too coincidental that the single man who had just opened the door was the same one who had recently started working for Brick & Morty.
Wes Daniels took off his cowboy hat and slapped it against his thigh, utter consternation written on his face at seeing the horde of people outside his door.
He swept over them with a suspicious glance and focused in on Bethany. “You.”
“You?” Bethany sucked in a breath. “You’re the one? Taking care of a little girl?”
“That’s right.” He positioned the hat back on his head. “Who are all these women? Is this your coven?”
“Oh, I don’t believe this,” Bethany hissed, turning on a heel to face the crowd. “Someone take over. I can’t be the ambassador of this mission. There’s a conflict of interest.”
“What’s that?” Dominic asked.
“We hate each other,” Bethany responded with a tight smile.
“‘Hate’ is a strong word,” Wes drawled, propping a forearm on the doorjamb. “Unless