Taffy for Two (Crimson Hollow #12)

Chapter One

Dakota sagged against his apartment door, exhaling slowly. Fourteen days in Crimson Hollow hadn’t made it feel like home. He felt like an imposter in his own existence. Yet the town’s unassuming smallness, its hush, its blessed ordinariness were the qualities he’d been desperate to find.

Right now, he needed to tackle those boxes, unpack them or shove them into a closet, before this place could feel like an actual home instead of a temporary hideout.

At least the rent wouldn’t drain his savings, and when sunlight slanted through the blinds, it warmed the exposed brick to a honey-gold that almost made him forget he was essentially living in a converted storage room.

A knock sounded on the door, startling him.

For a brief second, Dakota thought it might be…

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered, smoothing a hand down his oversized sweater. After a deep breath to steady his nerves, Dakota swung open the door.

Good lord. On the other side stood a gay man’s fever dream. Kavani. Delicious muscles wrapped around a tall, lethal frame Dakota wanted to take a bite out of.

Down, you desperate idiot. He’s your landlord, not a chew toy.

But how was Dakota supposed to behave when Kavani had on a black T-shirt that looked as if the fabric was holding on for dear life? Those faded, low-slung jeans weren’t helping, either. Dakota imagined stripping them off…with his teeth.

“Hey.” There was a smoky rasp to Kivani’s voice, rough and rich, like the last sip of bourbon. “Hope I’m not intruding.”

Dakota wasn’t touching that. It would only fuel his lust-addled brain. “Not at all.” Shit. He cleared his throat, praying it didn’t squeak again. “What’s up?”

Better.

“Just wanted to check in. Make sure everything’s working okay up here. Heater, water, all that.”

“Oh. Yeah, everything’s great.”

Kivani nodded slowly, his amber gaze sweeping past Dakota into the apartment. “You settling in all right?”

“Hmm-hmm.” Dakota leaned against the doorframe, mirroring Kivani’s posture. He was hyperaware of the six inches between them. “It’s a really nice place.”

“Good. That’s good.” Kivani’s eyes returned to Dakota’s face, and something flickered there that made Dakota’s breath catch. “You been downstairs yet? To the shop?”

“Not really. I mean I walked past it when I moved in, but I haven’t actually gone inside.”

“You busy? I’ve got some new flavors I’m testing.” Kivani pushed off the doorframe and gestured toward the stairs.

Dakota grabbed his phone from the table by the door and followed Kivani into the hallway.

The stairs creaked under their feet as they descended, and Dakota kept his eyes on the back of Kivani’s head rather than letting them wander lower.

He bit his lip and focused on counting the steps. Twelve in total.

The taffy shop occupied the entire ground floor, with large windows facing the street and old hardwood floors that looked like they’d been there for decades.

The smell hit Dakota immediately—sugar and vanilla and something fruity he couldn’t quite place.

Display cases lined the walls, filled with rows of colorful wrapped candies.

A copper pulling machine sat in the corner, its hooks gleaming under the pendant lights.

“This is the front area,” Kivani said, moving behind the main counter. “Pretty standard. Register, display cases, impulse buys by the door.”

Dakota trailed his fingers along the glass case, peering at the neatly arranged taffy. “You make all of this yourself?”

“Every piece.” Kivani opened a drawer and pulled out a small wax paper bag. “My mom taught me when I was a kid. She ran this place for thirty years before she retired.”

“That’s really cool.” Dakota looked up and found Kivani watching him. He tucked his hair behind his ear, a nervous habit he couldn’t break. “Do you have a favorite flavor?”

“Changes depending on my mood.” Kivani moved toward a door at the back of the shop. “Come on. I’ll show you where the magic happens.”

The guy wasn’t making it easy to keep clean thoughts. Dakota forced away images of magic happening between them. He already had one problem he was running from. He did not need to complicate his life even further.

The kitchen was smaller than Dakota expected, with stainless steel counters and a massive stove that dominated one wall.

Copper pots hung from hooks above the workspace, and the sweet smell was even stronger here, almost overwhelming.

Kivani walked to the stove and lifted the lid on a pot that was sitting on a cold burner.

“This batch is cooling,” he explained. “Strawberry lemonade. Want to try it?”

“Sure.”

Kivani picked up a knife and cut a small piece from the slab of taffy in the pot. He held it out, and Dakota stepped closer to take it from his fingers. Their hands brushed. The contact lasted maybe half a second, but Dakota felt it everywhere.

He popped the taffy into his mouth. The flavor burst across his tongue—tart and sweet and perfectly balanced. “Oh my god.”

“Good?”

“So good.” Dakota chewed slowly, savoring it. “Like, really good.”

Kivani’s smile widened. He cut another piece, this time from a different batch sitting on the counter. “Try this one. Maple and brown sugar.”

Dakota took it, more careful this time to avoid touching Kivani’s hand. The taffy was softer, still warm from being worked. Kivani watched his reaction, waiting.

“That’s amazing too,” Dakota said around the candy. “You’re really talented.”

“Mom was a good teacher.” Kivani leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. “She used to say making taffy was about patience. You can’t rush it. Temperature has to be exact, timing has to be perfect, and you have to pull it just right or the texture's wrong.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is. But it’s worth it when it turns out right.” Kivani tilted his head slightly, studying Dakota with an expression that made Dakota’s stomach flip. “So what brought you to Crimson Hollow? It’s not exactly a destination town.”

There it was. The question Dakota had been dodging since he arrived. He swallowed the last of the taffy and shrugged, aiming for casual. “Just needed a change of scenery. Fresh start, you know?”

“Where'd you move from?”

“Couple different places. I’ve been moving around a lot over the past few months.” Dakota wandered over to examine the copper pots, running his hand along the smooth metal. “This seemed like a good spot to stop for a while.”

“Running from something or running to something?”

Dakota’s hand stilled. He turned to look at Kivani, who was still leaning against the counter with that same open, curious expression. No judgment there, just interest. “Maybe a little of both.”

Kivani nodded like that made perfect sense. “Well, it’s a good town for starting over.”

“Have you ever thought of starting over?”

“Nah, I’m a lifer. Born and raised.” Kivani pushed off the counter and moved to the stove, adjusting the temperature dial even though nothing was cooking. “Never really thought about leaving. Everything I need is here.”

Dakota watched him fiddle with the controls, noting the strong line of his jaw, the way his shoulders moved under his shirt. He forced himself to look away, focusing instead on a shelf of ingredients—vanilla extract, food coloring, bags of sugar. “Must be nice. Having roots like that.”

“Sometimes.” Kivani opened a cabinet and pulled out several small containers. “Other times it feels like being stuck. Everyone knows everyone, which means everyone knows your business.”

“That sounds awful, honestly.”

“Has its moments.” Kivani lined up the containers on the counter. “But it also means people look out for each other. There’s something to be said for that.”

Dakota moved closer, drawn by the array of colors in the containers. “What are these?”

“Flavor extracts. I’m working on some new combinations for fall.” Kivani picked up a small bottle of amber liquid. “This is maple bourbon. And this one”—he held up another bottle—“is spiced pear.”

“Bourbon? Is that allowed in candy?”

“It’s extract, so the alcohol cooks off. Just leaves the flavor.” Kivani set the bottles down and picked up a bag to fill. “Here, take these home. Let me know what you think.”

Dakota accepted the bag, his fingers brushing against Kivani’s again. This time neither of them pulled away immediately. The moment stretched, and Dakota felt his pulse jump in his throat. Kivani’s amber eyes were darker up close, almost gold in the kitchen’s warm lighting.

“Thanks,” Dakota murmured.

“Anytime.” Kivani’s thumb grazed Dakota’s knuckles before he let go. “And seriously, if anything stops working in the apartment, just come find me. I’m usually here or upstairs in my place.”

“You live here too?”

“Other side of the building. There’s two apartments up there.”

How had Dakota not known that? He’d been there two weeks and hadn’t realized his landlord lived across the hall from him?

“Oh.” He clutched the bag of taffy. “Good to know.”

They stood there for another beat, just breathing in the same air. Dakota knew he should leave, go back upstairs, put some distance between himself and whatever this was. But his feet seemed rooted to the floor.

Kivani moved first, turning toward the taffy on the counter. “I should get back to work. Got a big order due tomorrow.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dakota took a step toward the door then paused. “Thanks for the tour. And the taffy.”

“No problem.” Kivani glanced over his shoulder, and that smile was back, the one that made Dakota’s knees feel unreliable. “See you around, Dakota.”

“See you.”

Walking back through the shop, Dakota forced himself not to look back. The bell above the door chimed as he slipped into the small hallway that led to the stairs, taking them two at a time as his heart beat wildly.

Inside his apartment, he set the bag of taffy on the counter and pressed his palms flat against the cool surface. This was supposed to be simple. Move to a quiet town, keep his head down, figure out his next move. Getting tangled up with his landlord was not part of the plan.

But god, Kivani was beautiful. And sweet. And talented. And the way he’d looked at Dakota in that kitchen…

He shook his head and moved to the window. The street below was quiet, just a few people walking past the shops. Crimson Hollow really was peaceful. Maybe that was exactly what he needed right now. Peace. Quiet. A chance to breathe without looking over his shoulder.

He reached for the bag of taffy and pulled out a piece wrapped in wax paper. The strawberry lemonade one. He unwrapped it slowly and put it in his mouth, closing his eyes as the flavor hit him again.

Yeah. Maybe this town would work out after all.