Twilight crept in as Rosie and Dominic hiked along the path toward the nature preserve. He thought therapy had hit peak weirdness during their game of Minion-themed Chubby Bunny, but he’d been dead wrong. Today they’d been assigned the task of setting up a campsite—together—as a means of learning to work as a team. And while he definitely didn’t mind spending time with Rosie, he could admit to a growing impatience to have their problems solved. Every moment that passed meant missing her more, and this exercise felt like a damn waste of time when they could be moving her back into their home, where she belonged.
“Now seems like a good time to remind you that you picked the therapist.”
Rosie lifted her chin and shot him a glare from beneath her eyelashes, knitting Dominic’s stomach up tighter than a concrete slab. Back in the day, he used to refer to that look as the Death Laser. It meant she was not in the mood for his shit and he better tread more carefully than a man with size-fifteen feet crossing a field of land mines.
He hadn’t given her a reason to grace him with the Death Laser in a long time and he didn’t like that realization one bit. There should be 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 laugh. “Where have you been hiding them?”
Her eyes widened. “In the trash.”
He choked trying to keep his amusement buried, but it didn’t work. Dominic’s laugh boomed in the forest, sending birds flying out of the trees.
“She’s going to find out,” Rosie said, battling her own smile. “I’m going to be sampling Le Squirt Bon Bon for the rest of my life.”
“What the hell is Le Squirt Bon Bon?”
“It’s the nastiest perfume on the planet and it only exists so Martha has a power move.” Rosie signaled him to stand up the tent and Dominic glanced down, realizing they were done stuffing it with poles. “What about you?” Looking kind of nervous, she rolled her lips inward. “Tell me something about your day.”
Dominic handed her the stakes for two of the tent corners and they went about securing the shelter in place. Something about his day? Probably not the best idea to inform Rosie of how much time he’d spent lately staring at her clothes in the closet or sniffing her girlie soaps in the bathroom. “I’ve been doing some work in the basement at night. When I can’t sleep.” They traded a fleeting look and he wanted to kiss the guilt out of her eyes, but words were more important right now. “Found my framed commendations from the marines. The few pictures I took while overseas.”
He raised his head to find Rosie looking at him.
“You should hang them up,” she said.
“No, I . . .” Dominic left the tent area and moved to the nearby ring of rocks, squatting down to arrange them closer together. “I thought about it once, but I figured our house is already so small. Maybe one day if we had more room or a bigger place, I’d hang them up. They’re not a big deal.”
“Yes, they are,” she breathed. “A bigger place. We haven’t talked about that in a while.”
Goddammit. Why had he brought up the house? Until now, it had been the silent secret between them, but with her innocent comment came a deceptive evasion—and he hated it. Lying to his wife was a sin, in his eyes. But when he opened his mouth to come clean, the truth only dug down deeper, further out of sight inside of him. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. Have you? Thought about a bigger place at all?”
She joined him at the stone circle, helping him move the rocks into a perfect ring. For the campfire their hippie therapist had requested, because that was normal. “I’ve thought of us moving to somewhere newer, with more space. Sure,” she rasped.
“Would you . . . like that?”
Rosie’s gaze flashed to meet his, danced away. “Maybe we should focus on the present right now and not the future, you know?” When Dominic made a grudging sound of agreement, she dusted her hands off on her jeans and stood, shifting in the crackle of forest-floor debris. “Um . . . what was the third thing? A hammock?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
The tension remained between them as Dominic gathered wood for the campfire. When he returned, he helped Rosie hang the hammock between two trees. Despite the lurking strain in the air, working in tandem with Rosie felt natural . . . and long overdue. It had never been more obvious to Dominic that they’d been avoiding each other, except for their Tuesday-night sex marathons. Even the simple task of hanging the hammock felt intimate. In a way that wasn’t physical. Like they were working in a partnership. He absorbed the feeling like a sponge.
“Okay,” Rosie said, wiping her hands on her thighs. “What’s next?”
“He said something about hanging a wind chime,” Dominic responded drily. “Got to have those positive vibes, man.”
“He’s a free spirit.” Rosie wrinkled her nose at him. “I think it’s kind of sweet.”
“Come on, honey girl. You would have rolled your eyes so hard at him back in the day.”
She thought about that. “Probably. But I would have felt guilty about it afterward.”
Something tugged in his middle over the accuracy of that. “So what has . . . changed about you? That you’d no longer roll your eyes at a stoned hippie who decorates with stuffed animals?”
Rosie’s gaze traveled over him, as if she was startled that he’d asked something that deep. “Well, for one, last-ditch therapy was my idea and my pride is in the way of me admitting I went a little extreme.” They traded a knowing smile. “But I wouldn’t change the decision now. Lately I’ve learned that letting something feel crazy, not rejecting the unfamiliarity of a situation . . . can lead to something amazing.”
“You’re talking about the club?”
“Partly,” she hedged. “Did you know me, Bethany, and Georgie formed the league because we all showed up for Zumba early? Really, it’s Kristin’s fault for being late.” She smiled to herself. “Now, Zumba. That gets an eye roll. Who wants to watch themselves dance in a mirror?”
Dominic rolled a shoulder. “I could never mind watching you dance.” They traded a ripple of heated eye contact, but he was enjoying talking to her too much to push it further. He didn’t want to credit Armie, but something about being removed from their usual setting—being out there in nature—made him appreciate being with her, hearing her voice, even more than he normally did. “How the hell are we supposed to rig up this wind chime?”
“Oh.” Rosie shook herself, obviously having forgotten their task. “I brought some string. Do you have your pocketknife?”
“Always.” He slipped the smooth object out of his back pocket and flipped open the narrowest cutting tool with his thumb. “What’s your plan? Put holes in some sticks and hang them?”
“Yes. Maybe attach some pennies to the bottom so they clang?”
“Not bad.”
Rosie laughed. “Not exactly good, either, but we’ll get away with it.” She pressed her lips together. “I think it goes against the hippie-cratic oath to give bad grades.”
He slow-clapped. “Nicely done.”
They spent a few minutes collecting sticks, Rosie retrieving them and Dominic whittling holes in the top.
“So . . . not rejecting something that feels crazy,” Dominic said, calling back her earlier words while twisting metal into wood. “Does that also apply to the restaurant?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, furrowing her brow. “Somewhere along the line, it did start to feel crazy. Taking that leap.”
Regret slithered in Dominic’s gut, knowing he’d been part of the reason opening her restaurant had become an unreachable goal. He could turn the tide now, though, couldn’t he? Here they were, talking—trying—so it couldn’t be too late.
“Sometimes when I was active duty,” he said, “home seemed like a dream. Like it wasn’t real and I’d never get back here again.” He nudged her with his elbow. “I almost always thought of you frowning over a recipe or dancing from the stove to the sink. And I knew home had to be real. You cooking is not a leap. You . . . doing anything you set your mind to is not a leap.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, sounding almost surprised. “I wish you’d do that more. Not . . . not encourage me, although that was really, really nice. But I mean talk about your time overseas. You’ve never talked to me about it.”
A bolt turned in the side of Dominic’s neck. The time he’d served with the military had been hard. It was hard for every soldier, being under the constant threat of attack, being so far removed from reality, you didn’t know how you’d make it back. Vocalizing that meant exposing a weakness, however, and he didn’t do that. Stiff upper lip. Be the strong one. He’d been raised with that mentality, and he worried that breaking that code might make him seem less dependable. Just . . . less. But he had to set aside those fears, because Rosie was watching him expectantly and—
A movement on Rosie’s shoulder caught his attention.
“Shit, honey. Don’t move.”
Her face lost some color. “What is it?”
Knowing if he said the word “spider” she would freak the fuck out, Dominic reached out to slap the eight-legged creature off her shoulder, but it scuttled away, he cursed, and Rosie launched into the air like a torpedo, slapping at every inch of exposed skin on her body and shaking out her hair. “Oh my God. Is it still on me? Get it!”
“Honey girl,” he said, biting down on a smile. “You have to stand still.”
“What? No!”
He gripped her by the shoulders and turned her around. “You probably knocked it off.”
“You’re just saying that,” she said miserably. “Oh my God. How big was it? Is it hairy?”
“You don’t want to know,” he said truthfully.
She screamed in her throat.
The spider reappeared on her arm, and Dominic smacked it off before she could become aware of it, watching as it hit the forest floor and disappeared beneath some leaves. “Gone. Got it.” He gave up on suppressing his laughter. “It can’t hurt you anymore.”
“You jerk.” Rosie threw herself into his arms, mouth pressed to his neck, her body shaking with mirth. “You enjoyed that.”
“I don’t like seeing you scared.” He closed her in his arms and breathed in the coconut scent of her hair. “But I’m not going to pretend I mind this.”
They melted against each other a little bit, Rosie’s hand curling in the material of his shirt before she pushed away, both of them breathing heavily. As they continued making the wind chime, Dominic could feel her watching him. And he knew she could feel his attention coming her way, too. Every peek of her belly when she reached up to tie a stick to a low-hanging branch was catalogued in his mind. Every lip bite. Every elegant angle of her neck.
His own skin burned from the evidence of her interest, and just as he’d done that morning in the gym, he put himself on display for her. Fuck it. He’d use what he had. Rolling up his sleeves, he got to work lighting the fire, building it to a cluster of gentle flames. Night had fallen by the time they finished building the campsite and they wandered toward each other, right to the center of it, as if pushed by an unseen force.
“Earlier, you said you wanted to talk about the present?” Dominic said, nudging her chin up. “Let’s do it.”
Rosie’s nipples peaked inside her shirt, accompanied by her shaky exhale. “Maybe I only said that because I was annoyed at you for bringing up our Twilight fight.” She paused. “It happened in the past, but it’s frustrating me in the present, so it’s fair game to discuss.”
“Good, talk about it. Get frustrated.”
“You brought it up to make a point. That we’re supposed to love each other through fights. Through all of it.”
Dominic leaned in and breathed against her mouth. “Never mind why I brought it up. Call me every name in the book. Just don’t act like we don’t know every last thing about each other.” His hand closed around the nape of her neck and the muscles turned to water, just like he’d expected. Just like always. “You know how to talk to me, Rosie. It . . .” Admitting a weakness was difficult, but he forced it out. “It fucked me up when you said you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. It’s so much easier to talk when you’re talking back.”
“Okay. Lay it on me.” Dominic tightened his muscles, steeling himself for what was coming. “Tell me how hard it has been. How hard I’ve made it.”
“I don’t want to right now.” Hesitantly, she raised her hands and conformed her palms to his cheeks. “You’ve been so sweet today.”
“Please, Rosie. Get it all out so we can really start moving forward.”
“It’s been hard,” she said softly. So softly. “It’s like you left that final time . . . and never came back. I don’t have my best friend.”
“I’m here.” He backed them toward a tree, pressing her up against it, knowing she could feel the chaotic pounding in his chest . . . and letting her. Not being the impenetrable fortress for once. They inhaled and exhaled against each other’s mouth, his cock swelling with every tiny, feminine pant she let out against his lips. Christ, he would kill to give her one fucking orgasm. Just one. “Rosie.” He brushed their lips together. “Honey girl, I’m right here.”
She pulled him by the sleeves of his shirt. “Come closer,” she breathed.
“Ah, would you look at this masterpiece!”
Armie’s voice booming through the clearing was the equivalent of a brick wall slamming down between Rosie and Dominic. They jumped apart like guilty teenagers whose mothers had caught them making out in the family room. And something amazing happened. They both laughed. She fell into his chest and giggled—and hell, if Dominic didn’t feel seven feet tall in that moment. Ignoring the incessant throbbing in his pants, he wrapped an arm around Rosie’s shoulders and held her close.
“Busted,” he said against her temple.
She looked up, smiling. “Feels like old times.”
“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “It does.”
Rosie started to say more, but her jaw dropped at whatever was happening behind Dominic. He turned just in time to catch Armie ducking into the tent they’d erected, with not one but two women.
“Viva Team Vega!” called Armie as he zipped up the shelter, amid the squeals of his companions.
Rosie and Dominic were bursting at the seams as he hustled her back toward the parking lot, where they finally doubled over and gave in to tears of amusement.
“Did we just build a campsite so our therapist could have a threesome?” Dominic said.
“Officer, I swear, we were unwitting accomplices.”
Dominic’s laughter trailed off as he tucked a curl behind Rosie’s ear. “Here’s to not rejecting the crazy, huh?”
She regarded him in thoughtful silence. “Yeah.”
Sending his wife to Bethany’s that night knowing he wouldn’t see her until their next therapy session was torture, but he couldn’t help but hope they’d made some progress. Dammit, he would take it.
And someday soon, he would take his wife back.
