Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2)(53)

This. This is what made her happy. Not warming up her car in the morning or breaking his back on a construction site. She wanted to feed people. When she hadn’t gotten enough encouragement at home, she’d gone and found it elsewhere. The worst part was, he’d known she wanted to own her own place. From the time they were in high school, her dream had been front and center in conversations with him. With her mother. Instead of buying her a restaurant, however, he’d been selfish and spent money on a house. A house he thought she’d love as much as him. A house they’d spent their youth designing like spun sugar, over the phone, under the stars. If he’d talked to her more as an adult—or listened, rather—he wouldn’t have buried the importance of Rosie owning her own restaurant beneath his selfish desire to be her provider. He’d needed that role, and a house was something he could give her all on his own. Maybe he’d even done it on purpose, subconsciously, trying to be the proverbial breadwinner.

But a restaurant . . . that would be all her. And none of him. None of them.

Still, if he’d known how happy it would make her, he would have used the money he’d saved to buy her a place. Somewhere she could shine. Except that opportunity was no longer available.

Had he actually planned on showing her that house tonight? Was he insane?

Dominic walked out into the cold with a lump the size of a fist in his throat. Since the day Rosie left him, he’d been asking her to come home. She’d been hesitant, and while he knew they had problems, he’d thought she was being stubborn. Unreasonable. But as he slid the tray of alfajores and pot of stew into the back cab of his truck, he finally admitted to himself that therapy was exactly where they belonged.

Rosie spreading her wings and flying was a beautiful sight to witness, but would it mean she flew away from him? How selfish was he to be worried about that kind of thing?

Dominic closed the rear door of the truck with a curse, turned, and came face-to-face with Rosie. She looked so familiar and beautiful in her red coat, he wanted to get on his knees and ask her forgiveness for being a selfish bastard. I’m sorry, honey girl.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, avoiding her eyes. “Ready to go?”

She nodded slowly and crossed to the passenger side. Dominic followed, opening the door for Rosie and boosting her onto the seat, his groin tightening at the flash of thigh as she buckled up and crossed her incredible legs. Apparently not even guilt could keep him from lusting after his wife. He wanted nothing more than to wait for the rest of the cars to leave, then drag her back inside and give her a nice, hard quickie up against the door in that tight dress.

And it would solve nothing except his incessant hunger for her. Momentarily.

Ignoring the curious look from Rosie, Dominic closed the passenger door and skirted around to the driver’s side, starting the truck engine a second later. Rosie read him directions off her phone, but apart from that, there was no conversation. Dominic wanted to ask her when she’d cooked the carbonada and if she’d used her mother’s recipe for the hearty soup, but everything sounded disingenuous in his head after he’d finally admitted to himself he’d let her dreams hang in limbo for so long. She’d been pining for something in secret while he’d worked toward an entirely different goal. All of which could have been avoided if he’d talked to his wife. Kept her close instead of at arm’s length where she could never suspect he wasn’t invincible.

“I think this is it,” Rosie murmured, prompting Dominic to set aside his thoughts and pull to a stop at the curb. After putting the truck in park, he leaned toward Rosie and they looked at the modest two-story home. It was lit up like Christmas.

She laid a hand on his arm and a current ran through his body. “We’ll get everyone organized and then we’ll go have dinner. Okay?”

“You’ll get everyone organized.” He cleared his throat hard and dislodged her hand, missing her touch the second it was gone. “You were impressive, honey girl. Back there. You like being a leader, don’t you?”

Dominic hardened his jaw and waited for her answer, even though he already knew what it was. Is this really who I am? A man who’d created an image of his wife that suited him and never noticed she had more inside of her, dying to get out?

“I think . . . maybe I’ve always had the ability to be one.”

He looked over to find her watching him with uncertainty.

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.” He wanted to take her hand back, to kiss her palm, but his own hands felt frozen. “Yes, Rosie. I think you have the ability to do anything.”

Her shoulders relaxed.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Outside the truck, car doors closed, the Just Us League arriving en masse. Rosie gave him one final searching look before climbing out. Dominic carried the heavy stew toward the front door and Rosie held the baked goods. They were flanked by two dozen women with intention in their strides, and Dominic had to admit, they were pretty damn impressive. Next time someone on the construction site wanted to talk shit about the local women’s club, he was going to damn well set them straight.

Bethany reached the door first and knocked briskly, flipping back her blond hair and adjusting the collar of her long white coat. She had the kind of confidence Rosie deserved. The kind his wife might have if he’d taken the time to encourage her, to show he had faith in her.