Chapter Eight
LISETTE
I’ve never slept so good in my life. After the intense pleasure, Dorian wrapped me in his strong arms. All the stress from dealing with Florine’s estate finally melted away, and I was asleep in no time.
I skip into his kitchen, practically vibrating with happiness, and stumble to a stop.
Holy hotness!
He’s leaning against the kitchen counter holding a cup of coffee, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweats.
His hair is tied back again, and the morning sun glints off the dark caramel streaks.
I greedily take in every inch from his trim beard, down miles of cut muscles, to his long legs, and bare feet.
How my scrawny best friend grew into this behemoth of gorgeousness is a mystery, but I am not complaining.
Dorian huffs a laugh.
I drag my gaze back up him to see the slight grin on his lips. His gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my bare legs. I’m still wearing his Army shirt, and the heat in his eyes says he approves.
“Morning, beautiful.”
His compliment, said in that low rough voice, melts me from the inside out. I feel treasured. Something I’ve never experienced before.
“Coffee?” he asks.
“Please.” I wander closer, admiring the way his back flexes when he reaches for a cup. There are more scars on his skin, but none so big as the one on his cheek. I trace one with my fingertip, and he freezes.
“Are all of these from your time in the military?” I hate to ask, but I want to know. I want to know everything.
“No. Most are.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “The one on my ribs is from this little girl I used to pull out of trouble when I was a kid.”
I trace the crescent-shaped scar and wince. “From that time I pushed you off the rock at the hot springs?”
“I shouldn’t have teased you about your polkadot bathing suit, knowing how scrappy you were.”
I laugh at the memory. “I don’t know how you put up with me.”
Dorian fills my coffee cup, then grabs the carton of milk and some sugar. “Nowhere else I wanted to be.”
It breaks my heart, knowing how true that was. His father drank heavily, flying into drunken rages over anything. That’s why Dorian and I spent so much time together. Home wasn’t a safe place. Sometimes, for either of us.
My parents were always arguing. Screaming at each other about money or me.
On bad days, we’d sneak off together and pretend the world was empty except for the two of us, and sometimes Grandmama Florine.
I fix my coffee, stirring slowly. When I packed last night, I brought something I’d hidden in the Victorian a long time ago. A treasure too special to lose or have taken away when my parents divorced and mom and I moved to Denver. I put it on this morning.
Tracing the neck of the T-shirt, I hesitate. Is it too soon to show him?
Dorian takes another sip of coffee, then puts his hand on my lower back. “Something wrong?”
The tenderness in his eyes gives me all the confidence I need. I dip my finger under the collar and tug on the yarn. It’s faded and had to be knotted a few times, but it still holds the silver pendant with the tear-drop aquamarine gemstone.
He gave it to me one night when we sat at the overlook, staring at the stars. It was his mom’s. The chain had broken years before, so she no longer wore it. The red yarn was all he could find, and it was perfect.
Dorian swallows hard. His fingers tremble as he reaches for the pendant, tracing a finger slowly over it.
“You kept it.”
“Of course I did. You gave it to me.” It’s my greatest treasure.
He cups my cheeks and kisses me. Softly, reverently. Like I’m the only woman in the world.
Like we’re back at the outlook, pretending it’s just us.
Dorian presses his forehead to mine, his warm breath fanning my lips. Then he kisses my forehead and disappears into his bedroom.
I take a sip of coffee, and touch the pendant, so glad I brought it. I don’t know what reaction I hoped for, but the wonder in his eyes and the sweetness of his kiss were better than anything I could have imagined.
He returns a minute later, opens my palm, and presses something cool and metal into it.
I look down to see my grandpa’s old Buck knife, with the worn walnut handle and scratched brass trim. My dad had it in the junk drawer of our old kitchen. But it was my grandpa’s, and Dorian was mine.
I smile. “I know he would be glad that you have it. He would have liked you.”
“My mom liked you. Sometimes, when she knew dad was coming home, she’d urge me to go play with you.”
She protected him as best she could. Until that terrible night when all our lives changed.
I hand the knife back. “I’m glad you kept it.”
“You gave it to me.”
A lump forms in my throat when he says it, mirroring my words, and the meaning behind them. “How did you keep it all these years?”
“I hid it in our tree. The one we carved our initials in. The day I came back to Hollow Peak, it’s the first place I went.”
I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight. “Was it terrible? Foster care?”
He stiffens, then growls. “Compared to what? Not being able to save my mother? My father going to jail for her murder? Being labeled a murderer’s son?”
“Dorian…”
He crushes me in his arms and buries his head in my neck. “It was endless. One home after another, and no one really cared.”
My heart breaks. “No one?”
“There was one couple—the Blackthornes. Had this big ranch in Montana with wide open skies, animals, and fresh air. They had adopted a few boys out of foster care and were looking for more. I was fifteen when they took me in.” He pauses and clears his throat.
This is the most he’s spoken since we met.
“They gave me food, shelter… kindness. Everything I wanted. One of the boys—Garrick—even tried to befriend me, but I was too afraid to trust it. Too afraid I’d lose it again.
So after two months, I ran away. Police found me, and I went to another home just like all the others.
” He strokes his hand through my hair. “That’s when I realized, only I could decide who I was meant to be.
I thought about you, and about my grandfather every day.
When I turned eighteen, I went into the Army and became a medic. ”
Saving people, when he hadn’t been able to save himself or his mom.
A tear slips down my cheek.
He kisses it away. “You can’t cry before breakfast.”
“I can’t?”
“House rules.”
I choke out a watery laugh. “Is there a list somewhere? Do I need to study?”
Dorian traces his lips over my cheek, then gives me another sweet kiss. “Stay with me, and I’ll teach you all of them.”
My heart swells. Could I stay? My life in Denver feels so far away. And the longer I’m with Dorian, the less I want it.
But what if he goes to Montana? Would he want me to go with him? Do I want that?
The questions spin until they start to give me a headache. So, I turn my attention to making breakfast and enjoying as much time with Dorian as I can.
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking about everything.
Places we’ve been, people who were important to us.
I told him about my business, and how I stumbled into it after taking a class on bookbinding.
There’s so much to restoring old books, and I love the beauty of them—the stories and knowledge they preserve.
My reputation is building as I get more clients, and someone just sent me their treasured family bible that recorded fourteen generations of their family history.
Dorian listens as we sit on the couch in front of the fire. Outside, the sun is setting, and the mountains are quiet. It’s peaceful.
Which is exactly when my mother chooses to call.
I groan and reach for my phone. “Hi, mom.”
“Did you call Philip?” she asks in way of greeting.
“No, but I talked to him yesterday.”
“When he helped you with the flat tire?”
I knew she was talking to him about me! “Why ask me? You already know.” Maybe I sound bratty, but I don’t care. I’m tired of these calls.
Beside me, Dorian’s lips twitch.
“Lisette, honestly. I don’t understand why you’re dragging this out. That house is old and isolated, and you can’t possibly maintain it yourself.”
My fingers tighten around the phone. “I haven’t decided what I want to do yet.”
“Well, you need to decide quickly. Richard says the market out there is growing, and if you wait too long, the repairs could become an issue, and you’ll lose money on the sale.”
Of course, Richard says that.
“It’s Grandmama’s house,” I say quietly. “Not an investment property.”
“The developers won’t wait much longer. They’ll find another property.”
I sit up straight. “What developers?”
She sighs like she’s explaining something to a stubborn five-year-old. “The company that wants to build a luxury spa for the hot springs.”
I’m stunned for half a beat. “You want me to sell so they can tear down her house? The house you grew up in?”
“I want you to sell so you can secure your future. Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said?”
“That house is a hundred years old!”
“Exactly. I’m surprised it hasn’t caught fire yet with all that old wiring. It’s dangerous and you shouldn’t even be in it. Richard says it’s best if you sell now and let the developers handle it before someone gets hurt.”
“I can’t do that.” How can she be so cold about a place that gave us both so many warm memories? A place of love and happiness. Has she changed that much and I didn’t notice?
“You have a life in Denver. A career. Responsibilities. This fixation on Hollow Peak isn’t healthy.”
My gaze drifts to Dorian again. His expression doesn’t change, but there’s tension in his jaw now.
“It’s not a fixation.”
“Then what is it?”
Home. The answer rises instantly, startling me.
Mom keeps talking before I can respond. “Philip is trying to help you, and frankly, I think you’re being rude. He said some giant mountain man practically threatened him yesterday.”
Dorian’s eyes narrow.
“He was protecting me.”
“Oh please. From what? Philip Weeks?” She gives a disbelieving laugh.
“Yes. And his too-white smile.” Her callousness is infuriating. “You want a decision? Fine. I’m not going to sell. Tell Philip not to expect my call.” I hang up before she can start screaming.
Dorian moves my feet over his lap and runs his big hand up and down my calf. My muscles are tense from the argument, but all I want to do is cry.
I still don’t know if I plan to keep the house, but I sure as hell am not going to let someone tear it down just to line my pockets with money.
He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “Come on, beautiful. I know what will help.”