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“I saw you do it. My eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.”
“Like I said, it’s real magic,” Dom said. “But in stories, it’s often ballooned into this big thing. The truth is that I can’t erase peoples’ memories. At best, allure helps me to be persuasive or convincing. If a person very astutely does not want to be glamoured, they won’t be. It’s not magic, magic. It’s just an innate thing.”
“I guess it’s a similar sort of magic to reading auras—an innate thing. People often think it’s more powerful than it really is. Have you tried to use your allure on me?”
“No.” Dom stilled. “Not since the day we met, at least. I knew then it’d never work on you. But even if it had, I would never have used it.”
“So what’s happening between us...”
Dom reached over, and I just about rear ended the car in front of me as his hand touched mine. “It’s nothing to do with magic, Trixie. I swear to you.”
I was loosely driving us back toward the apartment complex. Eleven dollars’ worth of coffee sat in the console next to me. It gently dawned on me then that Dom hadn’t really needed to go anywhere. The puzzle pieces clicked into place—the wet hair, the clothes, the lack-of-destination. I swallowed.
“Dom, I wanted you to hire me for a real job,” I told him. “I don’t want to make your life harder. I don’t want you to be placating me with this driver gig.”
Dominic reached up, played with the tips of my hair ever so gently. I froze at a stoplight, willing his fingers to never stop. “I just wanted to see you today, Trixie.”
“You shouldn’t have to pay me for that.”
The light turned green, and I pulled ahead. Dom’s fingers dropped from my hair.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to keep you safe. It’s the only way I know how.”
“You promised me that this would be a real job.” I practically pleaded with him. “I don’t want to make your life harder than it already is.”
“You don’t make my life more difficult, Trixie,” he murmured. “At least not in any of the important ways. Please don’t quit.”
“I’ll give it a few more days, but you have to promise me not to make me feel like an idiot.”
I parked in front of the apartment complex. Dom sat next to me, as if considering what to say. “Will you come up?”
I blinked at him. That was the last response I had expected. “Come up and do what?”
“Drink eleven dollars’ worth of coffee with me?” Dom paused. “Off the clock.”
“Off the clock,” I repeated.
“Just because I like you, Trixie Gardens.”
I was willing to bet he could hear my heartbeat clomping against my chest like a bucking bronco. “It’s a good thing I like you too, Dominic Kent.”
“SERIOUSLY, TRIXIE?”
I peered up through the pair of googles that I’d borrowed from Emmy. My roommate was standing across the kitchen island from me, hands on her hips, looking like she was torn between amusement and frustration.
“What?” I asked, seeing Emmy’s freckles magnified one thousand percent. “It’s not every day an average joe like me gets to witness the first bloom of a golden dragon fruit. Did you know these are illegal in thirty-seven states? You can’t even order these babies online. I’ve only ever watched live cams of them blooming at Le Jardín.”
Emmy rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about your golden dragon whatever. I’m talking about the smirk on your face and the fact that your phone hasn’t stopped beeping for at least five days straight.”
“Oh, that.” I turned my magnified eyes down to where I’d been distracted from the once-in-a-lifetime experience of watching the golden dragon fruit bud in real time. “It’s Dom.”
“No kidding,” she said dryly. “What sort of fake errands did he have you run today?”
“I’m a real chauffeur,” I scoffed. “I drive him around.”
“Yes, to buy food that he doesn’t eat and coffee he doesn’t drink,” Emmy said. “Has he gone to one actual business meeting?”
“One,” I hedged. “It was a very important one.”
