Jo Leigh - Seduced In The City

“I’d like to know that, too,” Dom said, suddenly right by her side. His voice was raised, although not quite as loud as hers had gotten.

“Look, I got a right to park here,” the guy said. “You do what you gotta do. I do what I gotta do. But if you don’t let the customers get to the window, I’m gonna call the cops.”

Dom leaned in closer to Sara. “I thought you were going to do that?” He paused to study her, then whispered, “Is he parked legally?”

“What he’s doing is wrong, and it’s no accident he’s parked right here. I’ve asked him nicely. He ignored me. But this is the third time...”

Dom looked at the guy. “Come on, man. You can clearly see her point. There are other places to park around here. Why do you have to poach on a neighborhood restaurant?”

“Get lost, Popeye. This ain’t your business.” He turned to the people behind Sara.

“How about you get lost?” Sara muttered a curse. “Why do you have to be such a prick?”

Three more people had gotten in line, and Sara was so angry she was ready to stab all of the truck’s tires, but that would only keep them in front of the restaurant longer.

“Listen,” Dom said, keeping his voice low, and backing her up from the center of the fray. “Why don’t you go inside? Put the bags down. Maybe ask Carlo to come get this box. Let me see what I can work out with this schmuck, huh?”

Sara was about to tell him she didn’t need to be rescued, but then she saw the second person in the truck. A woman who was staring at Dom as if she’d like to order him for lunch.

“Fine. But if he doesn’t budge, I’m going to look up every single possible violation I can call on this guy and I’m going to make him sorry as hell.”

“Good idea. Now go. We’ll get this straightened out.”

With one last vicious glare at the guy and his Dom-struck sidekick, Sara walked inside the restaurant, desperately wanting to drag the growing line of customers behind her. Instead of going to the kitchen, though, she stood at the window. Watching.

A moment later, Jeannette was at her side. “Look at the coglioni on that guy. He keeps this up, it’s gonna put a big dent in the week’s revenue.”

“My parents are on their first vacation in forever, and he decides to stake a claim outside our door.”

Jeannette took one of the bags, then turned around to the counter and shouted for Carlo. One of the other waitresses, Natalie, was taking phone orders.

“What’s Dom doing?” Jeannette asked.

“Trying to work something out. Notice the woman who can’t take her eyes from him.”

“That could work,” Jeannette said.

“Maybe.”

Carlo rushed past them, out the door, took the box from Dom as if they’d planned the maneuver, then hurried back inside.

Dom didn’t even lose a step. For a minute it looked as if the food truck owner was going to do something drastic. In fact, he flicked something at Dom, who stepped aside, shook his head, then kept on talking, looking calm as could be, as if nothing had happened.

Not two minutes later, the owner, the woman, Dom and several customers were all laughing.

Sara exchanged a look with Jeannette, who just shrugged. Then they looked back at the silent show. A few more words, a nod, followed by a handshake.

A goddamn handshake?

Several people at the end of the line peeled away to follow Dom, who held the door open for them. They all seemed pleased to be following their new guru, and surprisingly, she didn’t recognize a single person.

Jeannette hustled to get behind the counter, where they really needed Sara, but she couldn’t leave yet.

“Okay. We’ve settled things, and Rocky won’t be coming back to this spot again.”

“Rocky?”

“I gave him a tip on a better location,” Dom said, shrugging.

The relief was instantaneous but riding on its back was a slice of resentment that Mr. Big Shot was able to swoop in and save the day. He just fixed everything with his smile and that ridiculous charisma. Must be swell to be Dominic Paladino.

“Wait,” he said. “Did I do something wrong?”

Well, no, how could he?

She closed her eyes, ashamed that she’d let anything other than gratitude show. That she’d lost her temper in front of him. In front of anyone. And that in the end, the biggest shame of her life—the article she’d written—was but a fleeting memory for him. Even though it had haunted her for years.

“No,” she said, pulling it together. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m very grateful this mess won’t have to trouble my parents when they get back. Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” he said, but the tone in his voice had changed. So had the way he was looking at her.

She didn’t blame him. Especially when she noticed that his shirt had a big splotch of tomato sauce on the sleeve. The shirt he was supposed to wear to his interview.

“Next five pizzas are on the house,” she said, trying to ease the strain.

“I didn’t do it for the pizzas,” he said, turning to leave.

She caught his arm. That big, muscular arm that tensed even more beneath her hand. “I mean it,” she said. “What you did was really kind.”

“No sweat,” he said, although the easy camaraderie they’d had on their walk had vanished as if it had never existed.

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