Page 2 of Anything for You (Veterans of Silver Ridge #7)

CHAPTER TWO

Dove

N o. No no no no no.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Your bedroom? Like, um, like the one I’m renting from you and therefore it is yours but it has very recently, upon the signing of the lease I emailed you yesterday, become mine, you mean?”

He grimaced, and my eyes snagged on a chest of drawers in the corner with a photo on top, one drawer slightly ajar with what looked like a single sock peeking out.

So. Yeah. Not the appearance of a furnished rental so much as a person’s actual home I’d apparently invaded. Which was totally fine and not horrifying to recognize at all.

He stepped forward, over Bear’s dog bed which I clearly hadn’t noticed earlier either, and held out a hand to me.

And yes. I knew his dog’s name. I was mildly obsessed with his dog now that I could see him in the light and recognized his Alaskan Malamute beauty and that he was not, in fact, a vicious killer beast.

My new landlord’s earnest gaze peeked out from under the brim of a well-worn hat fraying at the front edge. I’d never seen him up close enough to know what color eyes he had, but this was Dorian, or Stone, as the Saint Security team called him.

One of funny, adorable Kenny Carmichael’s best friends. One of charming, gorgeous, gentle Luc’s best friends. One of steady, medically brilliant Adam’s best friends. I could keep going…

His beard was long and scraggly with what I’d guess was a mix of colors, looking incredibly unkempt and every bit the wild man I’d imagined him to be the few times I’d gotten a glimpse. His expression was serious, though he could’ve been beaming under all that facial hair for all I knew.

“I’m sorry for frightening you,” he said, his voice low, even, and calm, and his hand still outstretched.

Just as I reached toward him, I saw a brief tremor before he clasped my hand in his.

“No, I’m sorry. I—” Horror dawned fully when I remembered the lock. “I may have broken in here.”

His brows raised, though he didn’t appear to be all that surprised. Clearly, he’d noticed his door was unlocked because no doubt I’d forgotten to lock it behind me.

Dangerous and rude. What a fun combo, Dove!

I climbed to my feet, releasing his hand like I was dropping a burning coal and standing next to him for the first time ever and feeling a shiver of… something run th rough me.

He wasn’t just tall. He was big. I was sturdy and on the shorter end of the spectrum, but I’d been around people of all sizes. Heck, my dear friend Jess was married to a man who was six-six, and Jo had a stepbrother who was a former NFL player and similarly giant-sized.

This guy wasn’t quite that big, but he was still the kind of tall and broad that made my heartbeat quicken.

Run away, little rabbit, before the wolf gets you.

We may say we don’t judge books by covers, but it happens all the time.

Before I’d had to sell them, I’d had whole shelves of books I’d bought purely based on their covers.

And even though I was a trained healthcare professional with well over a decade in service to my fellow Silvertonians, I judged. It was part of the job.

Perhaps a more palatable term would be assessed.

Especially in the ER when triaging was imperative to taking care of patients, we judged and assessed.

Was he hiding something under that hat, or was it simply what he’d been wearing when he came inside to find a zonked out, misguided Goldilocks holding his bed hostage?

Couldn’t get a look at his eyes, but at work, I’d look for clarity, responsive pupils if the light was right, maybe redness or focus dropping. I’d check hair for cleanliness, check skin for complexion, check the hands, fingernails, and so on.

Much of this I couldn’t make out in the dim light, or maybe it was just me being unable to function in the context of such a horribly awkward moment. Also cue scratchy eyeballs and dried-out contacts.

But also, yeah, I was trespassing.

“I’m really so sorry about this. I’m so embarrassed,” I admitted as heat burned into my cheeks and caused a flush, maybe even full idiopathic craniofacial erythema.

Hadn’t had that in a long time, but my face sure felt on fire as he stepped out of the room and picked up my bag while I slipped my feet back into my shoes.

“Bear, come.” He pressed a palm over the dark green pants covering the side of his thigh. “I’ll show you to your place, if you like,” he said from outside the bedroom door, shifting from one foot to the other.

I was the biggest jerk on the planet, and thanks to the combination of my aforementioned exhaustion, the blush burning my face into a twin sun, and the realization that I’d just broken into my brand-new landlord’s house and slept in his bed, my eyes watered.

How could he be so gracious to me right now? I’d not only broken into his home, I’d slept on his bed. Was there a place more personal in a home? No. And yet here he was, speaking with such gentleness and offering me kindness I surely didn’t deserve.

Keeping my eyes down, I sniffed back the tears and grabbed my bag.

“I’m truly so sorry. I don’t know how I’ll make this up to you, but I’d be happy to wash your bedding or make you dinner sometime once I get groceries, or, um, brush your dog?”

I stepped out of his bedroom, but since his feet were still glued to the same place they had been seconds ago, I glanced up to see him watching me.

As soon as he saw my face, his gaze narrowed. “Are you crying?”

“No,” I said, clearly sounding all watery and upset.

Ugh! Why did I have to cry when I was upset? Why couldn’t I be like Liz and go stone-faced or pull a Jess and light up with the fiery indignation of a thousand stars?

“You are.” His brow furrowed even more, amazingly, and his words weren’t exactly accusatory, maybe, but they felt that way.

“I don’t mean to. But honestly, it’s a weird situation, and I appreciate it’s weird for you, too, but—” I swiped angrily at the tears for showing up and shoving their way into this conversation and continued. “I need to not be crying right now.”

That somber face stared back at me full of what I would swear was concern if I knew the guy, but maybe it was for my mental state. Perhaps he was considering calling the police and reporting the incident, or maybe he already had?

“You don’t have to apologize for crying. Your feelings are valid.”

I froze, and the amazement and confusion etched into the lines of my face could’ve been carved into stone, they were so distinct. Oddly, my pulse ticked up, up, as my words tumbled out. “My… feelings are valid?”

He nodded slowly, just once.

“Yes.”

Those eyes, still undiscernibly colored, held mine for another few seconds, and then he turned and plodded down the hallway.

Just like that, huh? This giant man validated my feelings like it’s a thing people just do willy-nilly and then just… wandered off?

Was I maybe in a Twilight Zone version of life right now?

Bear nosed my hand as though to cue me to walk and I jumped, then relaxed into petting his head once.

“Sorry, sweet boy,” I whispered, embarrassed I was still so twitchy after being the one to cause all this mess.

The dog followed his owner, and finally, my feet got the message to do the same.

Meanwhile, my heart was still standing in that hallway listening to a man I’d never spoken to before tell me my feelings were valid and marveling at how effectively he’d squelched the tears with something I’d hardly ever experienced with a man.

Acceptance.