A Tiara Under the Tree

“Sorry. It’s a habit for me to say I’m running for Miss Georgia.” Waverly picked up a slice of her pizza and took a bite of the tip. For a moment she closed her eyes and let her tongue savor the spiciness of the pepperoni and the creamy yet salty flavor of the mozzarella cheese. When she opened her eyes, she found Dominic staring at her.

“I can’t eat until you tell me the rest of the story.”

“There’s nothing much to tell,” Waverly said with a shrug. “I was a beauty queen and now I’m...” She hesitated and hated the idea of telling Dominic the whole story—meme and all. “I’m an outcast.”

“Outcast means drama-free.” Dominic raised his beer in the air. “Here’s to being an outcast.”

Waverly lifted her beer in cheer. Their bottles clinked in a toast and they ate for a few minutes in silence. There were a few moans of pleasure here and there from the both of them, each enjoying a true American pastime. Halfway through his first slice, Dominic cleared his throat.

“I’m going to assume it’s safe to say you know about pageants.”

An uncomfortable lull washed over Waverly. She hated having to explain pageant life to people who weren’t familiar with the culture. Irresponsible television documentaries made a mockery of the sport. Most folks ironically judged women who donned bathing suits and ball gowns. Waverly did not want Dominic to get the wrong idea of her. “Are you serious?”

Chewing, Dominic shrugged. Distracted, Waverly wondered how much weight he lifted every day to get his muscles so big. The fabric of his cotton shirt was stretched to the limit against his tattooed arms. She couldn’t make out all the designs but could identify a bird, maybe an eagle or a hawk, a few knives and words written in a foreign language. Clearly he was addicted to the ink. Sweat beaded above her upper lip and she began to perspire under her arms. Waverly knew summers in Southwood brought a whole new meaning to Southern heat, but damn, Dominic Crowne rewrote the definition. She took a swig of her beer.

“I’ve been out of the country,” said Dominic. “I didn’t think I missed so much. What’s up?”

If he hadn’t heard about her embarrassment, it would only be a matter of time. In order to get ahead of the embarrassing meme, she needed to show him now. Waverly pushed away from the counter and retrieved her cell phone. The latest version had been turned into a mock-up video spliced together with images, the work of someone’s overactive imagination. The tiara was turned into a silver keg, and instead of Waverly placing the crown on her replacement’s head, she was knocking her out. Little cartoon blue and yellow birds flew around her replacement’s head.

“Well—” Waverly sighed “—here’s what you’ve missed.” Dread washed over her. How long after he watched the video would it be until he keeled over with laughter?

“Hey,” Dominic said softly, covering the phone in her hand, “whatever you want to show me, I’m sure it is in the past. I’m interested in you today, here in the present.”

“You really need to see this before you get involved with me.”

Dominic winked and washed away her fear with the stroke of his fingers against her wrist. “So you admit you’re interested in me.”

“I don’t see how we can marry tonight without a mutual attraction,” Waverly said with a grin. She pulled her wrist away, hating the immediate withdrawal of his touch. Addicted after one touch?

Dominic wiped his hand against the length of his face. “Attraction is putting it mildly. We eat the same kind of cupcake and pizza, drink the same beer.”

The imaginary neon orange warning sign over his head flashed, but Waverly ignored it. Why bother following the rules now? An unmistakable pull drew her close to him. Her wrist twitched for him to take it again; he did, and let his fingers lace with hers. “What more proof do we need?”

As if to show her, Dominic rose to his feet and brought his face down, close to hers. His lips lingered over her mouth, his breath teasing her with anticipation. Waverly rose on tiptoe, inciting the kiss, fanning the flames of desire boiling between them. Dominic caressed the side of her face with his free hand. His fingers found their way into her hair and tousled the loose strands. His lips covered hers.

His tongue gracefully entered her mouth, introduced itself to Waverly’s and slipped away. Her hand had twitched with withdrawal a few minutes ago, and Waverly’s lips quivered when Dominic pulled away for a moment. Not done with their kiss, Dominic turned his head to the other side and cupped both her cheeks. For the first time in weeks, Waverly forgot about everything else in the world. A rumble rolled through her belly. How fast would it make her if she invited Dominic to her bedroom?

“I have my answer,” Dominic whispered. He kissed her lips one last time before he pulled away and stood to his full height. “How about you?”

Waverly pressed her forehead against his chest. The beat of his heart sounded against hers. “What was the question?”

Chuckling, Dominic dropped his hands and stepped backward to hold out her seat for her. “We should stop.”

“We should,” Waverly agreed with a slight shake of her head.

They went back to eating, forgetting how their pizza chilled while the tension between them heated with each bite. Waverly tossed her crust onto the plate. “My God, that was good.”

“The pizza or the kiss?”

“The pizza is fantastic,” Waverly answered with a sly grin. “So tell me, Dominic Crowne, what do you do at this garage of yours?”

After hearing her question out loud, Waverly hated to admit how foolish she sounded. She’d almost taken this man to her bedroom without knowing the first thing about him.

“Well, besides the typical oil changes and routine work on cars,” Dominic said, “I restore old cars and customize them for clients.”

“What’s the last big project you worked on?”

Dominic took a long drink of his beer before answering. “This morning I flew in from Dubai after a two-week trek of bringing my friend Aamir his customized Ferrari.”