Chapter Five
LISETTE
Dorian’s lips crash down, and I gasp against his mouth.
He takes the opening, his tongue sweeping against mine to deepen the kiss.
I love the way he’s cupping my neck, holding me in place while his other hand grips my hip. The way he tastes like coffee and strength.
The kiss isn’t sweet or soft. Dorian claims it with devastating certainty, making me breathless. I’ve never been kissed like this—so passionate and consuming.
I grip his shirt and raise on my toes, getting closer. Needing more.
I don’t want this to end.
Our mouths slide together, over and over, until my nipples harden and heat floods my core.
Dorian has always been more than just a childhood friend. He’s been my strength, my hope, and my dreams. Kissing him was inevitable, if only to answer the question that’s burned in my mind for over twenty years.
What if?
When I saw him in the café this morning, I knew I wanted this. I just never imagined it would feel so right.
The rumble of a motorcycle startles me, breaking the spell.
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.
“The house feels empty without her.” I take off his jacket and hand it back to him. It’s warmer inside, and while I’d happily stay wrapped in his forest scent for hours, I’d rather have him here.
“It’s been hard, going through her memories and her files. I wish I knew why she left it all to me.”
He touches the photo of mom and Richard. “She didn’t trust them.”
Something in his voice makes me wonder. “Did you see her before she passed?”
He nods.
“When? What did she say?”
“A couple weeks before. She was at peace.” Dorian looks at me. “She knew you’d care.”
And my mom wouldn’t. He doesn’t have to say it. Even Grandmama knew it was true. “Mom’s pressuring me to sell everything.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know. I have a life in Denver, but…” Now that I’ve found Dorian again, I’m not ready to return to that life. I clear my throat. “What about you? You live here?”
“Have a cabin in the mountains. And an offer in Montana.”
“That man in the café. Sol?”
“I worked with his boss in the Army.”
“Why Montana?”
“They’re helping vets and want me to join.”
My heart drops to my toes. “Will you?”
Something shifts in his gaze. “Don’t know.”
I hate the turn this conversation has taken. I can’t think about losing him when I’ve just found him again. “Let me put away these papers from my meeting with the lawyer. Then, maybe we can have some coffee and talk?”
Dorian nods and hangs his coat on the antique coat rack.
Grabbing the folders I brought in, I take them to the small office next to the kitchen, stumbling to a stop in the doorway.
I feel more than hear Dorian come up behind me.
The window is open, letting in the chilly air, and all the filing cabinet drawers are pulled out. Some of the papers are scattered on the floor.
“I didn’t leave those open,” I whisper, shivering as ice slides through my veins.
He nudges me aside and strides into the office, checking the window. “Looks like it was forced.”
Someone broke in? But why?
“Anything missing?”
Right. I glance at the window again, then go through the files, trying to put them back in order. “I don’t have a list of what she had, but it doesn’t look like anything is missing. It’s just a mess.”
He snaps the window closed, the sound loud in the quiet space. “You’re coming with me.”
“What?”
“Or I can stay.”
When I blink at him, he crosses to me and takes my shoulders in his warm hands. “Someone broke in. You’re not staying here alone.”
He’s protecting me. Like when we were kids.
Only this time, I want his arms around me. “It’s a big house. Someone might… What if they come back?”
He tugs me to his chest and wraps his arms around me. “I’ll be with you.”
“But then you might get hurt.”
Dorian rubs my back. “Gather some things. You’ll stay with me.”