Page 5 of Filthy Dirty Dom
“Leslie, your brother isn’t the reason we can’t be together.”
“Isn’t he, Alex? At least part of the reason?” Her eyes sparked with challenge and he had to admit, she wasn’t completely wrong. In being mindful of what was best for Leslie, he was also fulfilling his loyalty to Branden.
Before he could tell her yet again that being friends with him was risky enough given the number of enemies he had, Leslie waved her hand. “Never mind. Not going there again. I know where we stand. I will always be your friend, yes, but even more so, I will always be your best friend’s little sister.
Alex sighed but didn’t say anything. He finally got out of bed and stood, thankful that he was steady on his feet. Together, clothes wrinkled, they headed out the bedroom door.
You’re doing great, Leslie. You’re holding yourself together. Not throwing yourself at him. Not trying to convince him to give the two of you a shot.
Leslie was resolved to maintain her friendly distance through breakfast then get the heck out of there.
Spending the night hadn’t been smart. Even so, she didn’t regret it.
She’d spent most of the time watching him, yearning for him before exhaustion had finally taken over and she’d joined him in sleep. When she’d woken, she didn’t want him any less but something had shifted inside her. She’d said the words before—that she accepted they were just going to be friends—but this time it had felt true.
Then he’d called her his friend just now and pain had ripped through her.
All she could do was keep moving forward but the smart thing would be to limit her time with Alex again. That normally wasn’t hard, but they were still training for the Mud Run together. Once that was done, she’d maintain just a little more distance from him, nothing that would suggest they weren’t friends anymore, but enough that she might finally be able to get over him.
As Alex and Leslie stepped into Alex's meticulously designed kitchen, the smooth granite countertops and sleek, stainless-steel appliances exuded a sense of modern sophistication. Leslie headed to Alex’s fridge. “Okay if I take a look?”
“You never have to ask, Leslie. Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” She opened the gleaming doors, discovering a well-stocked array of health-conscious foods, their neatly arranged containers highlighting Alex's commitment to a disciplined lifestyle. A teasing smile tugged at the corners of her lips even as she admired the neatly stacked containers of quinoa, kale, and chia seeds. "Impressive, Alex. Looks like you've got enough vitamins to last a lifetime," she said, her voice laced with playful affection.
Her gaze then shifted to a hidden corner of the fridge, where a small jar of rich, chocolate hazelnut spread lingered, a guilty pleasure amidst the sea of nutritional choices. With a raised eyebrow and a conspiratorial grin, Leslie pointed at the jar. "Ah, there it is! The secret stash. You might deprive yourself of some pleasures, but I knew you couldn't completely resist the siren call of decadence."
His expression stiffened and her words hung in the air, charged with a mixture of amusement and desire as the unspoken tension between them crackled.
She hadn’t meant that as a dig. Hadn’t meant to imply she was obviously one decadence he was resisting.
Thankfully, Alex just said, "How about we make my famous banana pecan pancakes? They're a perfect blend of indulgence and nutrition."
She took a breath and nodded. “Sounds yummy.” She closed the door only for a piece of paper that had been attached with a magnet to fall to the ground. Leslie picked it up, glancing at it. It was a cashier’s check made out to Father Davide Alessio for high five figures. In the memo line, it said, Futuri Speranzosi. Leslie blinked at the check, wondering what it was for, but then quickly stuck it back on the fridge. It wasn’t her business.
When she turned, however, it was to see Alex frowning at the check before looking at her.
“Sorry,” she said, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, knocking the check to the ground or reading it. Probably both.
“It’s not a problem,” he said. “Want to grab the bananas?”
She headed to the fruit bowl on the counter where a cluster of ripe bananas awaited their fate. When she handed them to Alex, their hands brushed briefly, and Leslie trembled.
Alex seemed unaffected as he expertly peeled and sliced the bananas; even that action highlighted his muscular forearms, biceps and shoulders. He hesitated, then said, “The check is a donation. I make one every year to an organization that helps women and children around the world who find themselves in unfortunate circumstances. Hopeful Futures is run by an Italian priest I met in Afghanistan of all places and we keep in touch.”
Even as he spoke, Leslie could tell that Alex did so reluctantly. That he was trying to be matter of fact about telling her when he didn’t want to tell her at all. Probably because he was embarrassed. He felt he needed to explain the check, but at the same time didn’t want to brag that he was donating such a huge amount of money to help those less fortunate.
His generous heart didn’t surprise Leslie one bit.
The possibility that he might be embarrassed was the only reason she simply replied, “That’s great, Alex,” when what she really wanted to do was ask him questions about how he’d specifically met Father Alessio. But as much as Alex didn’t want to discuss the check, he really didn’t want to discuss his time in the military. Anytime Leslie had tried, he’d shut it down.
They worked side by side and soon the aroma of warm, toasty pecans filled the air, blending harmoniously with the sweet scent of ripened bananas. “This looks amazing,” she said as the first batch of golden pancakes were plated. Alex garnished them with a sprinkling of toasted pecans.
“In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never witnessed your domestic side, Alex.”
He chuckled. “Don’t get too excited. This is about the extent of my cooking skills. I’m a basic kind of guy.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment,” she said.