Beast of Hollow Peak (Hollow Peak Mountain Men #6)
Chapter One
DORIAN
Lisette is here.
I can’t believe it. She’s fucking here. After twenty-one years, two months, and three days, we’re sharing the same town. The same space.
Breathing the same air.
I don’t know exactly when our friendship turned into… whatever this is. As a kid, she was the best thing in my life when everything else was shitty. And when I went into foster care, she was a reminder of the time when life was good—for a little while.
As the years went on, she became this idea, this hope, that life could be good again.
I didn’t think too hard about it, but when I left the military and returned to Hollow Peak, some part of me hoped she would come back to me if I stayed here.
I lean against my truck parked outside The Switchback Café, staring like a creeper. Lisette sits at a table by the window, eyes closed in pleasure as she sips her coffee, a half-eaten cinnamon roll on the plate at her elbow.
Jesus, she’s a beauty. The cute little girl from my memories has filled out in all the right places. Her lips are soft and full, her golden-brown hair falling in thick waves over one bare shoulder where her oversized sweater has slipped down.
I knew she was pretty from the photo I saw at her grandmother’s house a few months back. I wasn’t expecting the heat rushing through my body and the tightening of my damn jeans at seeing her again.
Or the way my heart thuds harder when she takes another bite of cinnamon roll, letting the fork draw slowly from her lips as she savors the taste.
Fuck me. Swallowing hard, I drag a hand down my face and fight for air.
I should walk away. Find another time to meet her. When I’m steadier. But I can’t. I can’t even look away.
Lisette was the anchor in my life for over two decades.
What if she doesn’t remember me? She was eight when we last saw each other.
A child who had a whole life after we parted.
There’s nothing good from that time of my life that she would remember.
Just the scrawny boy two years older who pestered her until she let me follow her everywhere.
Even then, I was enchanted by the sunshine in her smile. I’d never known anyone who found magic in every part of life before Lisette. And none since.
But maybe it wasn’t the same for her.
I rub the heel of my palm over the spot where my heart lurched at the thought.
Her grandmama, Florine, assured me she would remember. She said it in that silky French accent with a bit of mischief in her eyes, like she knew something I didn’t. But Florine always had that look about her when she spoke. It was her way.
Even in her older years, Florine drew the eye of men all over town. She showed me a photograph of her as a young woman, and damn if Lisette doesn’t look just like her.
What if she has a man waiting for her at home? I asked Theo over at the Riverview Lodge as discreetly as I could if Lisette came to town alone. He said she did. That doesn’t mean a damn thing though.
If she does have someone, it won’t matter.
My gut rises up to call me a damned liar, but I ignore it. I have a promise to keep, and I mean to do so. Even if it hurts like hell.
The problem is, I suck at conversation. That’s why I’m standing out here on the sidewalk in the chilly winter air instead of talking to her. I don’t know where to begin. Florine told me not to overthink it. Damn if that isn’t all I’ve done since.
Inside, I see a man walk up to Lisette’s table. He carries himself the way only those who served in Special Forces do. With restraint.
I straighten. Why is he talking to her? I can’t remember seeing him around before, but I keep to my cabin on the mountain for a reason.
He smiles and edges closer to her.
My hands clench. He shouldn’t be crowding her like that. Towering over her at her table, making her look small and defenseless.
He says something, then holds out a piece of paper.
Lisette stiffens, then yanks it from his hands. Her brows knit together as she stares at the page, and her hand begins to tremble.
I’m moving before I can think. Whoever this fucker is, he’s making Lisette upset. She may not be mine, but while she’s here, she’s under my protection.
I stride across the sidewalk, forcing people to scramble out of my way.
“Damnit, Beast! Watch where you’re going,” a man grumbles.
My gut clenches at the nickname. Has she heard it? Has she heard the whispers about me? Doesn’t matter. I throw open the café door and stomp in, ready to drag the man away from her.
He looks up as I approach, and recognition lights his eyes.
“Dorian?”
Lisette’s whispered word stops me in my tracks. Hearing my name from her lips floods me with something I can’t describe. Like warmth, relief, and alarm rolled together. It sets me off balance.
The honey-brown eyes I remember so clearly are wide with surprise. Her lips part, and she stands so fast her chair topples.
“Oh my god. Dorian!”
And then she slams against my chest, fitting perfectly in my arms.
The scent of cherries fills my lungs as her head presses against my shoulder, tinged with the cinnamon she just ate. Not scents I would have put together, but on Lisette, I want to taste them.
It’s madness. I don’t kiss women I just met.
But Lisette isn’t a new acquaintance or a pretty woman at a bar. She used to be mine.
Holding her small frame against my chest, I wish to hell she still was.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, burying her hands in the back of my jacket like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. “I can’t believe how big you are.”
“I grew up.” My voice is like gravel from disuse. For Lisette, I make the effort. “One of us had to. You’re the same size.”
She gasps and leans back, then smacks my arm. “I am not. I was eight years old and like three feet tall. I grew at least two feet.”
She tries to glare at me but it’s hard when she has to crane her neck. At 6’5”, I have well over a foot of height and probably a hundred pounds on her. Her head barely reaches my shoulder.
She’s perfect.
Unlike me.
Lisette’s gaze travels over my face, lingering on the scar lining my left cheek.
Someone mutters, “Beast” from a few tables over.
And suddenly every eye in the room is on her.