Cinnamon & Nutmeg Volume 2: Where I Want To Be

8: Brian

Even the best fall down sometimes

Even the wrong words seem to rhyme

Out of the doubt that fills my mind

I somehow find that you and I collide

~Howie Day, "Collide"

So ironic. They put me on an undercover gig all those years ago, never figuring I'd turn into the perfect mole. Sleeper cell for the notorious Dominic Toretto. I really do need to get a grip on my sarcastic sense of humor.

It's so pathetic how much I was – am – willing, even eager, to do for just the smallest sliver of anything from this man. I threw my career away five years ago for a smile and a look. Yeah, I was dragged in because of my familiarity with the racing world and its tweaks. But now? Now I've got more resources at my disposal. It would have to be one hell of a problem for me to resort to throwing it all away like that, just to fix things.

But I'd do it again, if Dom asked me to. And even if he didn't.

Makes me feel a bit like a whore. Because I'm not real sure what I would've done, if Dom had pushed me away at some point in the last half hour. It sends a chill of dread up my spine just thinking about it.

But he didn't. Dom didn't push me away, not in the least. It kinda confuses me, but some things shouldn't be analyzed too closely.

"Why?" I blurt the question, not even knowing what I'm asking. I really should get back to the field office before someone decides to get curious about where I am, why I'm parked out in nowhere. Priorities and loyalties are one thing, obligations another entirely.

Dom tugs on my belt loop, pulling me closer until I'm bracketed by his splayed legs. Not trapped, just conveniently deterred. The man's lips tense into a flat line.

"Use more words."

I laugh, the bark a little harsh. "Never thought I'd hear you say that." I glance over my shoulder at the scuffmarks in the dirt leading to the front of the Chevelle, the only evidence of any disarray. Well, that and Dom's state of semi-undress. Hasn't even bothered to tuck himself back into his pants. Exposed and unconcerned. As comfortable in my presence as in his own skin. That realization puts a smile on my face, unintentionally.

"What?"

I blink. "Use more words."

Dom growls, jerks at my jeans. "You're all over the place, Bri."

That strikes a nerve. "Five years, Dom. What did you expect, exactly?"

"Nothing."

"Really. Can't believe that."

"You want something from me? Something more than the 'thank you' that you won't accept?"

I do not want to have this discussion. "You don't owe me anything, Dom," least of all verbal gratitude.

"Ditto," punctuated with another yank on my jeans. I glance down to make sure my clothing is still intact. "How many more times we gonna do this."

I blow out a gusty sigh through my nose, biting back frustration. Close my eyes and remember the sensation of fond memories flooding through me as my Charger turned over that first time. Feel the tension bleed from my body, one inch at a time. Open my eyes and meet Dom's gaze, take in his curious expression.