Page 68 of PS: I Hate You
Can I do this? Be Dom’s friend? Can I set aside the mess of our past and start over?
For Josh, I think I can do almost anything.
Confusion creases Dom’s handsome face, but I don’t explain my motives. He’s too proud to accept my friendship knowing I was doing it as a favor to Josh.
“Fine,” he offers eventually.
“Define ‘fine,’ ” I press. “Use details. Examples. Maybe draw a chart. That’s how you accountants communicate, right? With line graphs and spreadsheets?”
Dom’s lips twitch, and he crosses his arms on the concrete in front of my shins.
“ ‘Fine’ means it pays well. And they know I’m worth every cent.”
“Cocky.” I brace my elbows on my knees and lean toward him, attempting to keep my eyes away from the water droplets tracing down his bare chest. “Sounds like it should begreat. But you said it’sfine. Why’s it just fine?”
Dom stares at me for a stretch, and I hold his eye contact, suddenly determined to commit to this friendship. To accept this task left to me by my brother.
Don’t worry, asshole. I will take care of Dom for you.
“It’s the same place I’ve worked since college.” He shrugs,rippling the water with his movement. “Feels stagnant now, even though I get a raise every year. Also, my boss is a prick.”
I snort at that last bit. “Are you applying to other firms?”
Dom shakes his head.
“Why not?”
“It’s a good job. The office is close to my town house. I don’t need to move on from it.”
I reach out and flick his forehead. He scowls and grabs my wrist in his damp fingers before I can retreat.
“What was that for?”
“Punishment. For undervaluing yourself. You’re worth more than a shitty boss and spending forty plus hours a week doing something that’s justfine.”
Dom continues to hold on to me as he studies my face. Then his gaze drops, and I watch his pupils dilate. Belatedly, I realize my cardigan has fallen open, revealing overexcited nipples that have yet to calm down.
“What am I worth, Maddie?” His voice rasps over my name.
Damn him and that deep voice.
“More,” I mutter. “I’m not the accountant. You can figure out a way to quantify it yourself.”
Dom’s mouth tightens, then eases. “Do you like that cover-up?”
Confused by the change of subject, I glance down at my cardigan. “Uh, yeah? I guess. It doesn’t have pockets, so it could be better.” I roll my eyes, guessing where this is going. “Are you going to try to use some metaphor about not always wearing my favorite clothes as an excuse to stay in your boring-ass job?”
Dom gives a slow headshake. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t ruin something you loved.”
His words make no sense, and his hot hand on my wrist makes it hard to decipher their underlying meaning. “What? Ruin it how?”
“By doing this.” Dom tugs hard on my wrist, unbalancing me.
I faceplant in the water.
Luckily, I realized what was happening in enough time to hold my breath, but I’m still sputtering in indignation when I resurface.
Once I’m able to blink the water from my eyes, I realize Dom has retreated halfway across the pool. He wears a smug grin that is entirely too attractive on his face.