“Stop it,” she said, the pink on her cheeks looking a little spotted. “They’re all stupid.”
“Still no one special then?”
“Ew, no.”
He laughed, just as Mike Cho, a guy he knew from Loyola, then the local gym, came into the restaurant.
“Dominic,” Mike said. “What’s the matter? You don’t lift anymore?”
“I moved. I’m living in the Cast Iron District now.”
“That’s not far.”
“No,” Dom said. “But I’ve been going to Body Space Fitness in Union Square.”
“I heard that’s a good place. They have a pool, right?”
“And killer instructors.”
“Can you hook me up with a pass? I might be willing to take the bus for a pool.”
“Sure. I’ll give you a call.”
Sara came to the counter, carrying a big take-out bag for Mike along with his pizza. “That’ll be twenty-six fifty.”
“You new here?” Mike asked, his voice dropping half an octave as he forgot that her eyes were above her chest.
“That’s Sara Moretti,” Dom said. “She’s been away at college. Studying...journalism?”
Sara glanced at him as if she hadn’t realized he could speak full sentences. “That’s right.” Then she looked at Mike again. “I remember you from Loyola. You wrote for the paper a couple of times.”
“You’re that Sara? Wow. You’ve changed.”
“I hope so.” Sara smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Yeah, same here. How long have you been back?”
“Just a week.”
“So, you here to stay?” Mike asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said with a small shrug that drew Dom’s attention to her breasts straining the fabric of her T-shirt. “I’m working on my master’s thesis so I’ll be here long enough to finish it.”
Dom realized he was behaving as badly as Mike had, and he snapped his attention up to her face. Her lips were moving but Dom hadn’t heard a thing she’d said.
She and Mike laughed about something, and then Sara asked, “Will that be cash?”
Cho whipped out his wallet, fumbled with his credit card, then smiled at her with such eagerness, Dom debated getting him that gym pass.
While Sara swiped Mike’s card, he looked at Dom, lifting his brows in what was supposed to be a guy-bonding moment. Dom ignored it. He wasn’t sure why he was irritable. Mike was a good guy. They’d competed in track.
As Sara handed him back his card, Mike grinned. “You made that paper a decent read,” he said. “Much better than Billy Calabrini.”
“Thanks. That’s nice of you, but if you’ll excuse me. I have to—” She nodded her chin in the direction of the kitchen and drifted toward the prep counter.
Mike’s grin faded with every step she took. But that didn’t stop him from eyeing how those worn jeans cupped her ass. “Well, can’t win ’em all,” he said. He turned for the door. “Later.”
“Yeah, later.” Of course Dom had been checking her out also. But that was different. He took a sip of his soda, then got out his wallet when he saw Sara packing up his order. He put cash on the counter, then a tip in the jar. Like always. When she came with his stuff, he smiled—not as enthusiastically as Mike had. “You never asked me to write for the paper.”
“Mike volunteered,” she said, not meeting his gaze.
“I didn’t know that was an option.”
“It was,” she said, as she stared at his soda. A moment later, he watched her add the cost to his bill before she rang it up. “Besides, as I recall, you were always too busy.”
“Uh-oh. I think I must have done something to you back in school.”
She didn’t answer at first, just stared down. “What do you mean?”
“Charging for the soda?” he said, joking. Trying to get her to lighten up. Maybe she’d caught him checking her out and was pissed. “I mean, I’m happy to pay for it, but...”
Ellie rushed over to her sister’s side and bumped Sara’s shoulder. “I’m sure you never did anything bad to her. She’s just been gone too long and doesn’t know the routine anymore.”
Dom smiled, trying to figure out the expression on Sara’s face. Was she really annoyed about the buck seventy-five, or was this about something else? He hadn’t seen Sara in years and—
Jesus. The long-ago memory flashed like lightning through his brain. How could he have forgotten? This wasn’t about anything Dom had done to her. It had been the other way around. As the editor of the school paper, Sara had practically eviscerated him in an op-ed piece, and he’d never been more insulted in his entire life.
“I know the routine,” Sara told her sister. “I’ve worked here more years than you.”
“Sara,” Ellie said, her voice a little condescending. “Not now, okay?”
Sara glared at her. “I don’t remember Dad saying anything ever about giving out freebies. And surely Mr. Hotshot can afford to pay for it.”
Ellie, looking shocked and embarrassed, cleared her throat. “I’ll just charge the order to your family account, okay?” Then she spun around on Sara and in a hushed voice muttered, “What is your problem?”
Dom could still hear, though, and clearly this was the perfect opening. He could’ve taken the high road—after all, they’d been kids. But with her acting like this? “Ellie, why don’t you ask Sara about the article she wrote my last year at Loyola?” he said, gathering his order and holding Sara’s gaze captive.
She should’ve looked embarrassed. Maybe even blushed. Not look as if she wanted to give him a third nostril.
“Yeah?” she said with an accusing smile. “And ask Dom what he said about—” She stopped short and blinked. “Never mind.”
“Go ahead,” he said, honestly drawing a blank. “About what? I’d like to hear this.”
Her inhale was sharp, and her cheeks flushed dark pink. Without a word she turned around and disappeared into the kitchen.
“UM, SORRY, DOM,” Ellie said, “Sara’s...she’s, uh, been kind of crazy working on
