Page 27 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

TWENTY-SIX

Dominic takes the seat next to mine as we wait for the plane to board the next morning.

“Where are you staying in Chicago?” he asks, eyes fixed straight ahead. “At the hotel with the other women, or at Ryan’s?”

The production team has tuned out behind oversized sunglasses and noise-canceling headphones, while the women sit in a group on the opposite side of the boarding area, chatting. But Dominic still speaks like he’s trying not to draw attention to our conversation.

“Ryan’s,” I answer, keeping my tone just as neutral. “At least, I hope so. Still waiting on the okay from Bodhi.”

“That’s good. We can keep our morning routine. Think production’s caught on to our walks?”

He flips open the book in his lap, pretending to read.

“I imagine if they had, they would’ve said something.” I dig through my bag for a Chapstick.

“No one’s said anything to me. What about Bodhi? You looked cozy last night,” he mutters.

I glance sideways, sensing his attention shift toward me.

Is he serious? He’s going to give me grief for talking to Bodhi when he’s dating three other women? Does he even consider us to be dating? The thought pops up, one of many that have been spinning since last night.

After the ceremony, I threw on my headphones and let myself sulk to Buffalo Traffic Jam. You know those singers who bleed all over their lyrics? Yeah, Frankie’s pain makes you heartbroken just from listening. Mix in a little of my own self-inflicted angst, and I was in a full-on mood.

I gave myself twenty minutes to wallow. Then I slapped on my big girl pants. I’m not going to let a tiny crush derail the whole point of being here. Our new friendship is… nice. But my goals haven’t changed: help Dominic find a wife, and escape my real life for just a little longer.

That hasn’t changed. It hasn’t.

“He didn’t say anything,” I finally reply.

“You two are always chatting,” Dominic spits, like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, flipping through his book faster than anyone could possibly read.

“And that’s a problem? We’re friends.” I swipe gloss across my lips.

“Like we’re friends?” It’s more challenge than question.

The last thing I need is his jealousy stirring up the thing that’s trying to bloom in my chest.

Nope. Not watering that bitch.

“Yeah,” I draw out.

His gaze holds mine, a silent push for me to say more.

I don’t.

“Then no,” he mutters. “It’s not okay. The guy doesn’t have good intentions.”

“You and your conspiracies,” I huff. “Are we switching roles now? You gonna be the Negative Nancy?”

“So, you admit you were wrong about me?”

“Haven’t we already gone over this? But yeah, sure. Do you feel better now, or do you want to keep throwing your little tantrum?”

He broods silently, and somehow that only pisses me off more. I shift my entire body to face him.

“You’re being pretty hypocritical, Dom. If anyone has the right to be upset, it’s me.”

I ignore the voice of reason reminding me that’s not true. I knew exactly what I was signing up for. I’m the one breaking the deal we made.

“What the hell do you have to be upset about?” he whisper-shouts. “You think it was my choice not to get time with you last night? I would’ve spent the whole night with you if I could. You’re the one?—”

“You have a funny way of showing that,” I cut in.

“Seriously, what are you talking about?!”

“Hey, y’all,” Summer drawls, sliding into the seat on Dominic’s other side. “You might wanna keep the marital spat down unless you want it memorialized on television.”

They’re not filming yet, but that’s not to say they couldn’t if something worth capturing starts up.

We both nod at her without looking, then lean in closer to each other, voices low.

“Tell me,” Dom demands.

“You kissed her,” I hiss.

“What?!” His voice spikes, loud enough that half the gate looks our way.

“Everything okay over here?” Bodhi appears before either of us registers him, and any hope of avoiding attention is gone.

“No,” Dominic snaps, rising to his full height. “We need a minute. And you owe me.” His tone leaves no room for debate.

Bodhi steps aside.

Dominic grabs my wrist and tugs me down the corridor. “Where are we going?—”

Before I can finish, he swings open the door to a family restroom, checks that we aren’t being followed, and pulls me inside. The door clicks shut behind us, and then I’m suddenly pressed between him and the wood paneling.

I push against his chest, not because I want distance— damn it, I do —but also because I’m all too aware of the questionable cleanliness of the public bathroom.

“That door’s disgusting. You owe me a new shirt,” I mutter, heat still simmering. “And what are you doing, anyway? Everyone probably thinks we’ve lost our damn minds.”

“I feel like I have,” he confesses. “You think I kissed someone?”

The frustration in his voice makes me question myself. I didn’t see the kiss… just Victoria’s hands exploring the expanse of his chest, her coy smile, the way she leaned in, erasing the space between them.

It doesn’t matter even if he did.

My stomach rejects that idea, pinching painfully. I wonder again if my doctor can fit me in when we’re in Chicago—something is definitely up with my insides.

He shakes his head, looking genuinely hurt. “How could you think I’d do that?”

“You don’t owe me anything, Dom. You’re dating those other women. I’m just…” My voice falters. “Just the matchmaker. Just your friend.”

“No.” His expression hardens. He steps in, hands settling on my hips, his grip steady. “You’re not just that.”

My breath catches.

“I didn’t kiss Victoria. Or anyone. The kissing curse? Still going strong. And honestly? I like it that way. Because you’re the only one I want to kiss.”

His gaze drops to my mouth, and mine to his, purely on reflex. Neither of us moves. His lips are fuller than I realized, soft-looking. Nice. Even with the mustache.

God help me, I think even it’s growing on me.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Dominic. It’s… confusing,” I stutter out.

His eyes dart back up to meet mine. “It’s the truth. I won’t do anything with them?—”

“No. Stop.” I already know whatever he’s about to say, it can’t be true. Not here. Not in this situation. “You can’t promise that.”

A part of me wishes he could.

He doesn’t stop.

“If you’d let me talk the other day on the beach—about that awful date with you and Emma—you would’ve known I couldn’t tell her there was nothing between us…

” He exhales and steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him.

“Because… fuck , there is. Or at least, I want there to be.”

Even if he wants to explore whatever this thing simmering between us is, he still has to finish the show. He still has to date the other women. And let’s be honest, there’s a good chance he’s going to fall for more than one of us.

Has he already?

Isn’t that how it always goes on this show? They fall for multiple people. They make hard choices. They’re shocked by how deep their feelings run.

And where does that leave me?

Exactly like the girls I rolled my eyes at—led along, waiting to be chosen by the bachelor.

I already struggle with uncertainty. With the unknown. I’m not built to sit in limbo, hoping things work out. My mind always jumps to the worst-case scenario. And this situation is the opposite of safe. It’s chaos. It’s cameras and competition and feelings I can’t predict.

This isn’t the kind of setup where someone like me finds love.

I had a plan.

I can’t do this.

My heart starts to race, the familiar edge of panic creeping in. It stutters—once, twice—those subtle, off-rhythm thuds I know too well.

thump… thump-thump… thump… thump-thump-thump…

“Mia.”

thump

“Are you okay? What do you need?” His voice softens, gaze searching mine.

I can feel the hum, the buzz, pulling at the edges of my mind. Thoughts I can’t catch, can’t quiet, can’t stop.

He presses a kiss to my temple, then gathers me close, like his arms alone can keep me from falling apart. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry. What can I do?” he murmurs into my hair.

“Kiss me.” The words tumble out, reckless and impulsive. I blame the static in my brain, the way my thoughts spin too fast to grab hold of.

He pulls back, startled. “Are you su?—”

I nod, quick and sharp, before he can finish. “Yes.”

“But—”

“Dom, kiss me , goddammit.” There must be enough bite in my voice to convince him I’m not breaking.

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. He closes the minuscule gap between us, his lips meeting mine, soft at first, then more certain. When he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, it takes everything in me not to make a sound.

He pulls back, breathing hard. “ Fuck . Is this okay?”

In answer, I grab his shirt and tug him toward me, and his mouth crashes back onto mine.

He presses me against the door, and this time, I don’t complain. I can’t . I’m too wrapped up in the feel of him—his hands, his mouth, the weight of his body pinning me.

I can do this.

More importantly, I don’t think I can stop.

I can keep the emotion out of it.

I can explore and have fun and then leave. It will be like all the other times.

All the failed almost-relationships. The ones with splintered roots that never took because I never gave them the chance.

And that’s what this will be.

And I’ll be fine . I always am.

Dom groans as his tongue slides against mine, sending a dizzying rush to my head. My mind still races, and my heart still pounds, but now, it’s in all the best ways.

It’s not until a firm knock sounds against the door that our lips part. Reluctantly.

“You’ve had your time. Get out here.” Bodhi’s voice is sharper than I’ve ever heard it.

Dom exhales hard, leaning his forehead against mine. His hand rubs slow circles on my back, doing very little to calm me down. “Are you okay to go out?”

I nod, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.

But he doesn’t let me go.

“Please trust me,” he murmurs. “I told Logan I’d look out for you when you showed up, and I will. I will . Just please trust me.”

My brows pull together.

“I know this setting isn’t ideal for this .” He gestures between us. “But please give me a chance,” he begs, his voice a low rasp.

Trust him? What is this ? Kissing? More? And what does a chance mean? Am I relieved of matchmaking duties? Is he asking me to date him? Does he have feelings for me? He must, or else why would he?—

Another loud bang sounds against my back. “I mean it. Now,” Bodhi grumbles, and for once I’m grateful for his interruption, if only for the momentary break from my thoughts.

Dom is still watching me, waiting.

And before I can think, before I can talk myself out of it, the words leave in a whisper. “Was there ever another option?”