Page 17

Chapter 16

Dina

A few days later, I’m at Pizza Girls, closing again.

I don’t mind because I am really a night owl.

But the pizzeria is quiet.

Like, too quiet.

No clatter of pans.

No customers laughing and chatting.

No MJ or Carina shouting about oven temps or delivery routes.

Just me.

And my very loud, very nosy thoughts throwing a damn party in my head.

Carina told me what it was like with her and Horace.

Not that I’m trying to compare.

But yeah. I kinda am.

Horace was all I need you forever right from the start with her.

But Doug?

I mean, Doug’s amazing when we’re together.

Sweet. Hot. Protective.

But when we’re not? It feels more like cool, catch ya later .

And honestly? I have no freaking clue where I stand.

Maybe I should just suck it up and ask Uncle Uzzi.

He’s literally running the supernatural version of Tinder. If anyone knows what’s going on with fated mates, it’s him.

But I’m too much of a coward to do that right now. I mean, how would I even manage that?

Hey Uncle Uzzi, can you check my dating chart or something cause I think it must be wrong?

Truth is, it sounds presumptuous. Like blaming his app and not the possibility that maybe Doug doesn’t feel that way about me.

Maybe I’m not good enough for him.

I shake my head and get rid of those thoughts. It’s not helpful, and quite frankly I’m mad I even went there for a second.

I promised myself a long time ago, I wouldn’t ever let any man make me think less of myself for any reason.

And honestly, Doug never gave me cause to think those things.

Maybe he’s just emotionally constipated like most men .

Standing behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, surrounded by bowls of prepped veggies, grated cheeses, and stacks of containers for tomorrow’s catering order.

The low hum of the fridge is the only sound, and weirdly? I don’t mind.

In fact, I prefer it to my annoying thoughts and the otherwise creepy quiet filling the place.

I say a voice command to the little robot gadget thingy Carina hooked up in here— feeling oddly like Judy Jetson for a minute —but that moment of strangeness goes away the second my playlist starts to play softly in the background.

I hum along and dice tomatoes, my thoughts wandering, just like they have all dang day, back to Doug.

It’s been twenty-four hours since I’ve seen him.

Not that I’m counting.

Okay. I’m totally counting.

I know he’s working.

Tracking some deadbeat dad who skipped town and left his kid without paying his child support.

Loser.

And really, what a classic Doug move.

He likes to act like he’s this Big Bad Wolf.

Mr. Lone PI who doesn’t do feelings or compassion .

None of that messy stuff for him.

But I know better.

I see him.

The way he only takes cases that really matter.

Sure, he grabs the occasional corporate gig to pay the bills, but most of his work?

Helping the people who were left behind.

The scorned.

The forgotten.

The ones who should have been cherished by the people who were supposed to love them best.

Like his landlady, who told me when I left his apartment the other morning what a superhero he was, keeping her safe from her meddling family and trying to buy the building so she could stay right where she was.

“Those brats. I raised them and now they want to put me away and sell my house! But Douglas is a good boy. He won’t let them!”

“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Giancarlo. It’ll all be okay. I’m this close to having the closing costs any day now,” he told her, holding two of his fingers mere centimeters apart.

The older woman hugged him tight and kissed his cheek, and I swear Doug blushed ten different shades of pink. He was so damn cute, embarrassed and humbled by the praise she offered.

I just smiled and watched, feeling proud of him myself. As if I had any right to. But honestly, can you blame me?

I know Doug might disagree and he’d likely hate hearing it, but he’s a really good guy.

His heart is about a mile wide.

And honestly? It makes me fall for him harder every single day.

Shit. I am, aren’t I?

I pause with my knife in the air, staring off toward the empty dining room as warmth fills my chest.

And I know my feelings are already there.

Falling.

Fallen.

Head over heels for the grumpy Wolf with the smart mouth and the softest damn heart I’ve ever met.

I smile to myself, cheeks heating at the memory of our last night together.

The way he kissed me.

Like he couldn’t get enough of me.

The way he touched me.

Like I was something precious and not just convenient.

Swoon.

I’m so totally gone for him. I should probably tell him.

If I could pin him down long enough.

I’m halfway lost in a daydream about Doug cooking for me again or just feeding me some of his chocolate cake— naked this time . Yes, please.

Then, suddenly, the soft jingle of the front door cuts through my thoughts.