Dorian presses his forehead to mine, dragging in a ragged breath.
I curl against his chest, fighting for air. With one kiss, he took apart everything I thought I wanted and rebuilt it into the promise of something that could be amazing, if I have the courage to try.
“Let’s get you warm.” His voice is rough but tender. “I’ll follow you.”
“Okay.” I wonder how long it’s been since he’s seen Grandmama’s house. Was he in Hollow Peak before she passed away?
Anxious to get answers, I hop back in my SUV and drive to the old Victorian.
It’s one of the last grand homes in Hollow Peak, with its turret tower and wide, wrap-around porch. My grandfather bought it special for his beautiful French wife, Florine. My mother grew up in this house, and I spent time here during the summers, even though our house was just a few streets away.
I park in the driveway and add getting tires to my mental list of things to do.
Dorian pulls in behind me in his sleek black truck. It looks pretty new compared to my used SUV. It’s going to be a lot of years before I can upgrade to something as nice as his. Restoring old books doesn’t pay that well, but I love it.
He joins me and settles his hand at the back of my waist as we climb the steps to the porch.
“Is it how you remembered it?” I ask as I unlock the door and step into the living room. It’s almost out of another time, with antique sofas, a writing desk, and built-in bookcases full of books.
Dorian looks around, then meets my gaze. “It’s different. Florine had presence.”
“She did. With her French accent and flair for life…” God, I miss her. “I think half the men in town were in love with her.”
“Including my grandfather.”
“What?” Dorian’s grandfather died before we met, but I know he looked up to him. “We could have been siblings.”
His half-smile vanishes in a flash, replaced by a hard scowl. A vein throbs at his jaw. “No!”
I jolt at sharpness in his tone.
He takes a steady breath, then quietly adds, “Not with my father.”
I want to ask what happened to him that night. But it’s too soon, so I try for a lighter mood. “It would make kissing awkward anyway.”
Those forest green eyes drop to my lips.
Heat curls low in my stomach at the way he looks at me, like he’s thinking about kissing me again.
“Good thing we’re not.”
I press my thighs together against the bolt of pleasure I feel at his rough, growling voice. It’s a very good thing.
He steps back, giving us space for now.
“Do you remember that time we came over and ate all the cookies before she knew we were there? She made us bake four new batches.” I’m sure it was my idea. Dorian stuck by my side, always pulling me out of trouble. Like today. Only that day, Grandmama was angry when she caught us. The cookies had been meant for a bake sale. She took three of the batches and left the last for us.
A faint smile touches his mouth, pulling at the scar. “I remember everything.”
“Not everything.” I hope. Like the time I tried carving our initials in a tree at the overlook and cut my finger on the knife.He found me crying, stopped the bleeding, and took me home. The next time I went back, our initials were there.
“The only time I was happy was when I was with you, Lisette. Coming here to Florine’s, I could pretend she was my grandmother too.”
His words tug hard at my heart. I was too young to understand his home life. I barely understood mine. But when things were bad, we found each other and made our own happiness.
“She loved you.”
Dorian runs his hand over the back of her old rocking chair, then turns to study the pictures on the fireplace mantle. There are several of her and my grandfather on their travels, a picture of them with my mother when she was young, one of my parents before the divorce, and another of my mom when she wed Richard, my stepfather.
