"Thank you," I say with sincere gratitude. He doesn’t look up from his phone, just grunts. "Seriously," I press. Dominic finally lifts his head to meet my gaze. I’m thanking him for more than allowing me to be at my shop. I’m thanking him for saving Chip, though I won’t articulate that out loud. "You’re thanking me for something you already negotiated?" His brows rise with boredom, and it feels like a slap. "I keep my word. Don’t expect more." His eyes flick downward. "Also you spilled coffee on yourself." Then he goes back to his phone. Whatever flicker of warmth I felt earlier extinguishes.
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