Love Is Crazy (Love Is… #1) (6 page)

W
e zoom
through the familiar streets of my hometown in this hot ass car, Dominic exclaiming over what he sees and pointing out the details of all the things I’ve taken for granted over the years. By the time we’re heading out of town, nothing about the place feels familiar anymore. He’s got his phone on his thigh, Google Maps open and navigating him out into the boonies. We pass cornfields and cows, the Mustang devouring the road, hugging the curves, the sun warm in the wide blue sky.

Dominic has been all secretive about where we’re going, but I’m a pretty smart cookie. Judging by his request that I wear sensible shoes and the route he’s taking, I’m pretty sure we’re going to go hiking on one of the nature reserves nearby. While, again, this is nothing like what I had in mind—I’m more of a let’s hang out and get rowdy kind of gal—I do love to walk in the woods. We chat about the places he’s been to in the car ride over and I start to feel more and more like a country bumpkin. I grew up here and I never left here and how in the world am I going to be able to keep the interest of someone who’s been hiking in the Himalayas? Someone who’s been face to face with a lion and lived to share the picture? Someone who told me it was easier to tell me where he
hasn’t
been than to list the places he has been.

“I always wanted to travel,” I say as Dominic pulls into a parking spot near one of the few national parks I haven’t explored.

He pops the trunk and pulls out a huge ass backpack, his camera and gear, a monstrous water bottle. “Why didn’t you?”

I try not to stare as he heaves the backpack over his shoulder and fail miserably. What kind of hike is he planning? “Eh.” I shrug and drag my eyes up to his face. “All the same old excuses I’m sure you’ve heard a million times. Money. Commitments. Procrastination.”

Dominic shakes his head. “Those things are all very real reasons and they’re also very much excuses. If you want to see the world, I say see it. Don’t wait. Life is for living, not for planning.” He ducks his head into his camera strap and hooks the water bottle to his backpack with a carabiner.

“So. Uh. You’re very prepared,” I say, unable to hold in my curiosity any longer.

“You only need to spend one night lost in the woods to never want to do that again.”

“Lost in the woods?” I widen my eyes. “Did you have to spend the night?”

“I had to spend a couple nights. And it rained. I was cold. Hungry. So tired. Got some great pictures.” Dominic shrugs as if to blow off the immensity of the experience. “It was one of my first trips into the Rocky Mountains. I was young and what I lacked in experience, I made up for in bravado. I made every mistake in the book.” He readjusted the heavy pack. “But, I also learned that I have what it takes to survive a bonus week in the woods without any supplies.”

“How very burly of you.”

“Oh yes. I’m very rugged.”

I can’t help but take a look at him, his hands clasped on the straps of his pack, his jaw set, his eyes glinting, that carefully cultivated five o’clock shadow outlining his strong jaw. “I’m not sure rugged is the word I’d use,” I say before I have a chance to think through what I’m going to follow up with. Because the words I have in my head aren’t exactly first date kind of material.

His jaw drops. “I have slept under the stars in a Namibian desert. I have climbed Mount Khuiten in Mongolia. I’ve endured the bitter cold of the Antarctic. You’re saying I’m not rugged?”

Hot damn this guy is so cool and I am so out of my league. “Maybe you need a hat.”

“A hat?”

“Yeah. Like Indiana Jones. Now that guy’s rugged.”

Dominic looks at me, this crazy, kind of incredulous look on his face. “You’re a little weird, you know that?”

I shrug. “Hey, I’m not the one making a woman wear sensible shoes on a first date and then showing up with a huge ass mountain man backpack strapped to my back.”

Dominic throws his head back and laughs, stopping in his tracks and closing his eyes. “See,” he finally says when he catches his breath. “You do think I’m rugged. There’s no way you can be a mountain man and not be rugged.” He puts a hand to my back and guides us onto one of the many available trails. “And, for the record, I didn’t show up with the backpack strapped to my back. I put it on later.” There’s humor in his voice. A tiny laugh joining his words.

“As if that makes all the difference,” I say, every nerve in my body singing about the tiny points of contact that are his fingertips. His palm.

We wander in silence for a few steps, our feet falling lightly on the dirt path. Wind rustling in the trees. Sunlight filtering down, casting lace shadows at our feet. All around us is green. Luscious and rich.

“First date, huh?” Dominic doesn’t look at me, but the corners of his mouth are twitching up into another one of those smiles I love so much. “You planning on having more than one?”

“Wow. You’re not?”

“Well, let’s see.” Dominic stops and studies me from head to toe and then back again. He makes a little swirling motion with his finger. “Turn.”

My jaw drops, but I’m smiling. I pivot slowly, keeping my eyes on him and ducking my chin towards my shoulder, all flirty eyelashes and shy eye contact. When I finish one revolution, I bite my bottom lip and wait for his response.

“I mean,” he says, and I can tell by the way his eyes are lighting up that I’m not going to like what he has to say. “I might have considered it, but those shoes are just way too sensible. What kind of woman wears shoes like that on a first date?”

I resist the urge to slap his arm. If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a million times. I get way too handsy. “The kind of woman who’s busy doing what she was told.” The wind makes the trees whisper, the leaves dancing above us.

Dominic’s eyes go all hooded and lustful. This immensely serious look wipes away all traces of good humor. “Do you like it when men tell you what to do?”

With anyone else, the warning bells would be going off in my head and I would be in serious stranger danger mode, but Dominic puts me at ease. My eyes stray to his lips. Would they feel as good as they did last night if I kissed him right now? Would he pull me in close? Would he run his hands up my back, under my shirt? Skin against skin?

I realize he’s just standing there, watching me stare at him. Waiting for me to answer his question. I blush and swallow hard. Shrug and turn away. “Depends on the man,” I say over my shoulder.

“Stop.” Dominic’s voice is husky. Almost harsh. There’s an edge that sets my blood on fire.

I do what he says. Freeze in my tracks but don’t turn back around.

“Don’t move,” he says, his voice still thick and warm, so sensuous it sends goosebumps racing across my flesh. The jingling and jangling of his backpack tells me he’s moving and then there’s the sweetest rush of contact as he traces his fingers ever so lightly up my arms. I shiver and my lips part. Dominic’s breath is warm on the back of my neck, his hands resting on my shoulders.

“Turn around,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear.

I hesitate. If I turn around, I’ll be so close to him. Face to face. Chest to chest. Will he kiss me? Or better yet, will I kiss him? Impulse control has never been one of my strongest qualities.

“Turn around, Dakota.”

My name in his voice is a siren’s call to my libido. I do as I’m told. Spin slowly, carefully. Ever so aware of the tiny sliver of space between our bodies, charged with heat and desire. Dominic is smiling down at me. Without a word, he leans in. Craning his neck to bring his mouth to mine. My lips part. My chest is heaving. My body thrumming and throbbing with excitement. I close my eyes.

His lips never touch mine but I can
feel
how close they are. Our breath mingles. It’s like electricity racing against the delicate flesh of my lips. I open my eyes. Consider reaching up, closing the distance, forcing the kiss. He turns his face and I turn mine. He brings his hands to my hips, again, a touch that’s just barely a touch. The tiniest bit of contact that is somehow more powerful than if he had grabbed me and crushed my body to his, his mouth to mine. These delicate whispers create a need in me, a flame I won’t be able to ignore until I have more of him.

“Am I that man?” he asks, his lips moving against mine, fanning the flames. “That man you’ll give control to?”

I want to answer, but I’m struck dumb by this man. For the first time in my life, I’m speechless. I lean in, almost without knowing, needing to feel the warmth of his mouth on mine.

“Answer me, Dakota.”

“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. I give him the answer that should embarrass me. The answer that is so unlike me but so very true because I’m sure that as soon as I do, he’ll end this delicious torture and kiss me.

Dominic pulls away and if disappointment had a face, it would be mine. “Good,” he says and takes off walking, leaving me in a big heap of lustful, wet-pantied confusion. “Come on,” he says with a little jerk of his head and damn if I don’t scamper after him.

We walk for a bit in silence, pausing every now and then for Dominic to take a picture. At first the pictures are of the trees. A flower. A close up of a moss covered rock on the bank of a small creek. But more and more often, he takes pictures of me.

“Put your hands in your hair,” he says when he has me leaning on a tree.

“Look down,” he says when he has me seated near the water. “Now smile a little like you have a dirty secret.”

He mutters words like
beautiful
and
exquisite.
He watches me through the lens of his camera and as we wander the woods, I start to feel like I am both of those things.

“Did you always want to be a photographer?” I ask as he pauses to arrange me on a fallen log.

“Pretty much. Although I didn’t know it at first.” He steps back and studies me through his camera. Takes a picture. Drops the camera so it dangles from the strap around his neck. “I used to get lost in those National Geographic magazines. I didn’t know how I’d get to see all those places, just that I needed to. As soon as I figured out that the best way to get there was to be the one behind the camera, it was a done deal.” He sits beside me, close enough that our thighs are touching. “What about you. Is that how you felt about bartending?”

The question takes me off guard and for a second I’m not sure if he’s making fun of me or not. But one look at his face makes me think not. I laugh. “No. Not at all. I wanted to be a writer. The bartender thing was just a quick and easy way to get out of my parents’ house.”

Dominic nods, widening his eyes in a look that says
I get you there.
“Not a happy childhood?”

I shrug. “It wasn’t
un
happy. My sisters are perfect. Hard working and so good at being good. I came along and messed up the London track record of perfect parenting. They weren’t happy with my grades. Weren’t happy when I wanted to write. Certainly weren’t happy when I chose to become a bartender. But it’s not all bad. We all manage to smile for the Christmas card.”

Dominic looks at me, incredulous. “You do a family Christmas card?”

“Ohhh yeah. Highlight of the season, let me tell you.” I shake my head as I speak to let him know just how sarcastic I’m being. “What about you? Any siblings?”

“One.” Dominic turns his focus to his feet. “A sister. She died when we were young.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” He lets a long breath out through his nose. “We were close. It was hard. Still is. But after she died, my parents put all their hopes and dreams into me. Jenny was everything they ever wanted. The perfect kid to follow in my dad’s footsteps. Become a high powered lawyer with the big house and shiny car. Dad tried to get me to want that, too. And I tried, for him. For her. But it’s just not me. Mom secretly loves that I do what I do because she knows how much I love it. Would never tell Dad though. He might divorce her for siding with me.” He smiles but I’m not sure he’s joking. “She sends me care packages whenever I’m in one place long enough for them to get to me before I leave.”

That statement hits me in the gut. I didn’t know it, at least not until this very moment, but I’ve been in the process of thinking about a second date with Dominic. And a third. And a fourth. I like this guy and I want him to like me. But, for all I know, he could be leaving tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, then soon. And if not soon, well, he’s not staying. That much I know for sure.

So it doesn’t matter how many dates I want to have with Dominic because this is going to end up being our first and last one. Something about this guy tells me that I could fall fast and hard for him and then he’ll leave, off gallivanting through the mountains and deserts and cities with buildings so tall I’d have to look straight up to see the sky while I rot here in Townsbury.

This man, he is not for me.

H
oly fuck
it’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to jump Dakota right now, tear all her clothes off, pin her against a tree and fuck her senseless. The looks she keeps giving me. The way she moves. That body. That hair.

But when she told me she was just following orders? Doing what she was told to do? My balls clenched so tight. And then, her flirty little response, almost a challenge.
Depends on the man.
And then I commanded her to stop and she froze. Moved to her and ran my fingers along her arms, my mouth at her neck, so much tension between us. I had her in my hands right then and there. She was wound up so tight that I would bet everything I own that if I had actually kissed her, we would have been naked and in the middle of some full on public indecency before I even knew what was happening.

Not that I don’t mind some public indecency. Especially with a woman like Dakota. Something tells me that she is a hellcat in bed. That adventuresome spirit. That quick wit that rises to a challenge.

And there goes my dick again, pressing against the zipper in my pants, clearly in full agreement as to how we feel about her.

I distract myself with taking pictures. Some of the woods, which are pretty enough. But mostly, I just take a lot of pictures of Dakota. Some she knows about. I pose her and make her feel beautiful. She gets uncomfortable whenever the camera is pointed at her. Smiling too big. Panic tightening her eyes, warring with the smile that strains her pretty features. It’s been a project, but I’ve calmed her down. Posed her. Coached her. And now, when the camera is on her, those lips part. Her eyes light up. She feels beautiful. Which she should. Because she is.

But a lot of the pictures I take of her, she doesn’t even know about. I catch her watching the water. The turn of her head as she listens to a bird singing in the trees. The light in her eyes as she tells a joke. Those are the ones I’m most excited to see.

“You take a lot of pictures.”

“You say that like you’re surprised.”

She shrugs and her eyes flit to me and damn it I should have captured that moment. “I guess I shouldn’t be. It’s just surprising is all. The reality of it. You live your life through that lens.”

I clear my throat and plaster on a smile because she just stepped into a minefield and has not one single clue. My father’s voice echoes down to me through the years, repeating that same phrase.
You can’t live your life through that lens. Jenny is gone. Don’t leave us, too. Not while you’re still here.
“Challenges of making your living off it, I guess.” I watch her through the camera so she can’t see the strain on my face. “The more pictures I take, the more opportunity comes my way.”

Dakota nods. “I see that.” She pauses to stretch, reaching her arms up over her head and rising up onto her toes. I get a flash of what she might look like, all stretched out and naked on a bed in front of me. “How many of those are going to end up on Instagram?”

“Only the good ones.”

“That’s a relief. So, like, none of me.” She smiles again, that big one that lights up her face. That stretches her mouth just a little too wide. The one she uses when she’s trying to be funny. It’s not her real smile. I’ve seen her real smile and it’s stunning.

“I was thinking more like
all
of the ones of you.”

And bingo. There it is. What I’ve come to think of as her real smile. It’s softer. Gentler. It doesn’t fight her eyes, it just makes them sparkle. I like making her look like that.

We come to a river and she pauses on the rocky bank, crouches and dips her fingers down in the water just to feel how cool it is against her skin. “I love the water. Always have. I think I was born in the wrong place.” She stands. “I should have grown up near the water.”

“You did.” I gesture toward the river. “I’m sure this isn’t the only river nearby.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t what I mean. I’m talking about the ocean. Or a river that stretches wide. This one’s pretty, don’t get me wrong. But…” She runs a hand along her head, smoothing back the hairs that have fallen out of her ponytail. “I sometimes daydream about saving up a little money, buying a shack on the beach—”

“A shack? You don’t strike me as the type to go without running water.”

Dakota shrugs. “I might surprise you. Besides, it’s just a daydream.” A smile. Her hands on her hips. A cock of her head. Damn I wish I had my camera on her right now. “A realistic daydream, I guess, because I’m fully aware I couldn’t afford more than a shack.”

“What would you do? In your shack on the beach?”

“I don’t know.” A blush runs across her cheeks. “In my daydream I get by selling bracelets or something. Make just enough money to feed myself. I honestly don’t need a lot. I just want to be there instead of here.”

“Now there’s something I can understand. That desire to move. To go. To explore.”

She nods her agreement. “To experience. To learn. I feel stuck here.” I can tell she’s surprised by the admission.

“Can you make bracelets?”

“No.” Dakota laughs. “Like I said, it’s just a fantasy. I have a lot of them.”

There’s a fallen tree near the bank. She wanders over and takes a seat and I sit next to her. “Oh yeah? Like what else?”

“Oh no. I’m not sharing.” Her eyes bounce to my mouth and her shoulder brushes mine.

“Oh, I think you’re going to share.” I put the edge of command into my voice and damn if her pupils don’t dilate. Her lips part. Her chest heaves. She hears it and she likes it and my cock springs to life.

“It’s gonna cost you,” she says, pursing her lips and lifting her eyebrows.

“Is it now?”

“Yep.” She looks out over the water. “I don’t just give this shit away for free. My deepest darkest secrets. You’re gonna have to work for it, Kane.”

It’s a challenge. I can hear it. All in good fun, I know, but it drives me crazy. I’m not sure what she thinks she’s going to get out of me, but I lean in close, invading her space. Her eyes drop to my mouth again and she licks her lips. “Oh yeah?” I ask. “What’s it gonna cost me?”

Dakota swallows hard. “A secret for a secret,” she whispers, unnerved by my proximity.

“What if I have something else in mind?”

“Depends what you have in mind.”

There’s only one thing on my mind right now, but I don’t answer. Instead, I slide my hand up the back of Dakota’s head, pull her close, and kiss her.