Page 20 of Anything for You (Veterans of Silver Ridge #7)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dove

W ell, hello, angel of darkness Dorian.

Call me a simpleton, but having a man wanting to defend my honor was more than a little hot. Especially with his large, warm hand steadying me and his general existence calling to me more and more.

“His name is Hawk, and while I love that you would ask that, I have no idea. I also don’t think it’s worth worrying about. He has clearly been drinking some new cult’s Kool-Aid and that means I won’t be able to reconnect with him.”

As much as that set my heart to aching, this had happened before.

“Sometimes, he’ll pop up like this and say horrible things. Other times, he’ll be penitent, asking for forgiveness and full of regrets. I never know which version of him I’ll get, and Nan has helped me work through it a bit. I guess I’ve accepted I can’t change him, at least for the most part. ”

I still hoped he would change. I couldn’t imagine ever giving up on that hope.

“Nan is your grandmother? Was she involved in the cult?”

His posture had relaxed, and Bear, whose head had popped up to surveil the situation when Dorian’s low rumble had come out asking for Hawk’s name, had snuggled back down to rest on his paws.

“She wasn’t. Apparently, she tried to get my mom to leave and one time when my mom and I went to visit her when I was about seven, she’d actually tried to get us out but…” I shook my head.

How Nan had wept when she’d told me about it, ugh. Even the memory of her retelling the events was brutal. I couldn’t imagine what it’d been like for her to see her only daughter dragged back to a world where she was mistreated and her children set on a course to face the same.

“I’m sorry, Dove.”

I’d noticed Dorian’s voice before, but today, something about it was sending a low-level hum through me every time he spoke. Saying my name?

Cue the urge to curl up and roll around in it.

“Thanks. I’m mostly a fully functioning human being. I’ve figured out how to have friends and live in a normal community. I even went to college and have had a good life, overall. But there are some things I missed, and I just don’t know if I’ll ever catch up.”

“Like what?” he asked, squeezing my hand once and releasing me, then picking up the teapot, waiting for my wordless reply.

Once I nodded, he poured more tea into my tiny beehive cup, and I sipped a drink, nerves rioting in my belly at the thought of telling him .

Like dating. Like falling in love. Like understanding men. Like sex.

No. I could not possibly say those things. Not like that, anyway.

“Well, I’ve never really dated. I think seeing how relationships went in my early teen years kind of messed me up, not to mention losing my parents.” I didn’t want to talk about how. “Feels like I have some broken pieces and I’m not sure how they fit back together.”

He seemed to sense I didn’t want to be more specific, holding up his cup until I joined him. His gaze, a weighty, almost palpably heavy thing, settled on mine.

“To your broken pieces. Every bit of you is beautiful and worthy of love.”

He dipped his head and took a sip while I sat frozen, utterly skewered by the toast. After a second, feeling the deluge coming, I sniffled.

Who had ever so plainly and fully accepted me?

Who had ever been so completely lovely and thoughtful?

My friends did, I knew this, but it’d happened bit by bit.

It felt like this man had appeared in my life and made it his job to show me what love looked like.

Not that he loved me, but just that he knew so clearly how to express the right thing.

I cleared my throat, and guzzled down the still-hot tea, eyes slipping around the room to avoid landing back on his, even though that was where they ended up.

Brow furrowed, he watched me. My lips contorted, pressing together and tucking between my teeth like this had a hope of stopping the tears already lining my eyes. Shaking my head, I closed my eyes, sending tears down my cheeks before I opened again.

“Thank you.” It was only a whisper, but I meant it with my whole heart .

Slowly, so, so slowly, he reached out and slipped his roughened palm against my cheek. His thumb arced across my skin, wiping away the tears and their tracks, so much tenderness in his gaze as he did, it almost made me start crying again.

What is happening to me?

I startled when a gust of breath warmed my arm at my elbow, then melted at the sight of Bear at my side, worry scribbled across his brows. Dorian’s hand withdrew, and I swiped at my other cheek, then indulged in wrapping my arms around Bear’s regal shoulders as he sat next to my legs.

“I think this boy may be the sweetest I’ve ever met,” I said, sliding a hand along his back.

Somehow, he smelled lemony and clean. I wondered how often Dorian bathed him considering he was a farm dog who ran around with his owner in the day-to-day business of the place.

“He’s a lover, that’s for sure. He’s actually my ESA,” he said, expression soft as he watched me stroke my fingers over his dog’s head.

“Emotional support animal? That’s amazing.” I pet along the sides of Bear’s face. “What a good boy to be so sweet and a helper. You’re such a good boy.” I’d devolved into my talks to animals voice, and Bear’s feathery tail waggled with pleasure.

After a big inhale, I dropped a kiss to Bear’s head and stood. “Mind if I wash my hands?”

Dorian hustled over, guiding me to the kitchen sink.

I admired the tiles and backsplash, the painted cabinets and the overall quaint yet polished feel.

We returned to the living room and talked about lighter fare—his favorite things to bake, my favorite book club reads so far this year, and as we piled plates and platters back into the kitchen despite his protests against me helping, what I liked best about Silverton.

“That’s easy. First, the people, then the mountains. And these last few years, I’m very grateful to a few strapping lads who decided to open up a new security company and bring in so many amazing people.” Good grief, I was a cheeseball, but it was true.

Wilder Saint and Bruce Camden’s choice to settle here in Silverton meant they came here, but so did Tristan, who brought Winnie.

So did Adam, who’d found Jo and given her another reason to stay.

It brought both Jude and Jess, who’d reconnected and had given me an honorary nephew.

It brought delightful Kenny Carmichael and his swagger, then helped lock in Elizabeth.

It brought Luc, who’d proved to be a wonderful partner to Elise.

Heck, in a roundabout way, it’d even brought in Eddie James-Williamson, who towed gorgeous Bri Williamson along with her.

And maybe best of all, it brought this man standing at the sink with rubber gloves and the pinch of a smile at his lips.

He settled a few dishes into the dishwasher and shucked the gloves.

“Can I help?” A sturdy pile still waited for him, and I wanted to prolong our time together.

“No, that’s not your job.”

I moved past him on an odd whim, sliding my hands into the gloves and diving in. “It’s not my job, no, but I want to help. It’s the least I can do.”

“This isn’t right. You’re a guest.” He shifted beside me, scowling.

I grinned over at him, oddly pleased by the opportunity to ruffle him a little. “Let it happen, good sir. You can wrap up what we didn’t eat while I do this. ”

For the next few minutes, he shuffled around tidying up and I finished washing a few things he clearly hadn’t planned on me touching. When I went to remove the gloves, despite their being big enough for his much-larger hand, they stuck.

I tugged at the left one, but before I reached the right, he was there.

“Let me,” he said, towering and a little broody as he slowly pulled off the glove.

My breath caught, the slide of rubber over my skin a sensation that should not be sexy in any way, but here it was. Happening in real life just like I told Elise I’d never see outside a historical.

A man is sensually removing one of my gloves!!!

Oh, but the things that could come next! He might brush his thumb over my pulse point—he’d feel the way my blood surged at his nearness. He might take something else off next—another glove? Perhaps unlace a corset and slide his hands under a chemise?—

I made a weird sound not unlike a gurgle, and Dorian asked, “You okay?”

“Mmhmm. Yes. I just… really enjoyed you letting me help.” I planned to beam at him, all kinds of casual and hiding the internal riot happening, but when I looked up, his honey-brown eyes were so intently focused on me, it stole my breath.

Our gazes stayed like that, locked for a beat, before Bear nudged under my hand and broke the spell.

We wandered toward his front door, sensing it was time for me to go even though I didn’t want to. He didn’t seem in a rush for that, either, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.

At the front door, he lingered, not reaching for the handle. “I’m glad they settled in Silverton, too, by the way. I don’t get into town all that often, but I like it.”

It shouldn’t have made my heart flutter, but it did. “Yeah? What about it do you like here?”

He rubbed a hand over his beard, the bristles against his skin making a fine rasping sound. “Love the trees, especially on this property. Love the mountains.” His gaze settled on mine. “Have to say I love the people.”

My heart flipped. Obviously, he wasn’t confessing his love for me, but those eyes and that voice. The way he towered over me. The way he’d been so tender and supportive, and how this felt like something more…

Honestly, the way he just removed my glove!

“What was Jo supposed to have told me?” he asked, halting the direction of my thoughts.

More like bringing all thought and breath to a screeching halt. Because I couldn’t possibly tell him I’d said something about offering him my maidenhead , I believe was the term I’d used after a particularly unbroken stint with historical romances.

Cheeks aflame in seconds, I cleared my throat. “Oh, nothing. Just how amazing it was.”

One brow raised.

“The food was great. I just… conveyed that with enthusiasm.”

I just said, “Tell him I’ll trade my maidenhead for a chance to eat this food regularly, how about that?”

A maniacal giggle burst from me, and I reached for the knob. “So, Dorian. Thank you so much for a lovely afternoon tea. I’ve never done that before, and I loved every second.”

He nodded, then whispered, “What’d you say? ”

Shocked he wasn’t letting it go, I shook my head and skittered out the door. “Thanks, Dorian Q!”

He hollered after me, “What’d you say, Dove L. Jensen, the sixth?”

With another cackle, I jogged across the expanse between our houses and turned back when I reached my own front door. “I’ll never tell you!” And then I ducked inside before I could say anything to condemn myself further.