Page 12 of Love Songs (Harmony Lake #3)

TWO DAYS LATER, I was still thinking about Dallas and that incredible kiss as I walked along Main Street. The little kick in my step was as strong today as it had been after our date.

The kiss had surprised me, even as I’d been wanting to do the same thing from the moment I’d spotted him standing in the Lakeside Inn lobby, waiting for me.

He’d shoved his hands into his snug jeans, the motion pulling his fancy button-up shirt tight across his chest and revealing the edge of a tattoo on his left pec.

He’d foregone the baseball hat but pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail.

I’d still been angry with him for the fire and unsure what to think about him winning the bidding on me.

Well, I’d been trying to stay angry, but that was an emotion I didn’t much like to carry around.

There was no point for it beyond the moment, and when I saw him standing there, all sexy and gorgeous with a surprising air of nervousness, and first the thing he did was apologize for the fire .

. . My loose grip on that ire fled like an arsonist from the scene of the crime.

I hadn’t expected to enjoy our date as much as I did, either. Even with my best friends making appearances. Dallas hadn’t at all been the pretentious, self-absorbed rock star I’d thought him to be after the lead up to, and drama of, Founders Day.

And that kiss . . .

Holy fireballs, that kiss.

I could still feel the press of his lips against mine, still taste the lingering flavor of ginger on his tongue, still smell the amber and warm wind scent of his skin.

When was the last time I’d been kissed like that?

When was the last time I couldn’t stop replaying a kiss in my mind?

Never, that’s when. I didn’t date, because let’s face it, Caldwell Crossing was a small town, and I was pretty sure me and my best friends filled the gay population quota.

Although that seemed to grow with the additions of Ben, Adam, and Phillip.

But aside from a couple of guys I hooked up with when I ventured into Lebanon occasionally, I also didn’t kiss—except sometimes in the heat of the moment.

Kissing Dallas, though . . . That had felt like a long time coming. Felt . . . needed somehow.

I snorted and shook my head.

I’d just met the guy, so why the hell did my mind keep reading more into it than what it was: a nice kiss at the end of a nice day together?

The reality of it was that we lived in different worlds.

I was never leaving Caldwell Crossing, and Dallas was a rolling stone.

And whoa ! I needed to rein in my wandering mind.

Anything more was moot, anyway. Dallas Blade had gone back to his rock star world, and the next time I’d see him would be on an album cover or in a music video.

I pushed Dallas out of my head as I pushed through the doors of Harmony Chocolates for a fresh supply of truffles, the bell tinkling above as I entered.

The guys at the station loved them as much as I did—and I seriously loved Haider’s truffles—so I made my way over to stock up at least once a week when I was on shift.

Crocus, Haider’s manager, smiled as I approached the counter.

“Hey, Conor,” he greeted. He was a big guy with a crocus tattoo running up the back of his neck and onto his bald head. Hence, the name. I could never remember what Crocus’s real name was—I’m not sure I ever knew. “Here for the usual?”

“It’s like you know me,” I joked.

It always amazed me to see the hulking ex-con handle dainty confections with such care.

He’d been Haider’s first hire from an ex-offender program that helped reintegrate people back into society.

Some guys only stayed a short while, some didn’t work out at all, but Crocus had settled into Caldwell Crossing seamlessly.

“Heard you had a date with that rock star who set the stage on fire,” Crocus said, because of course everyone in town—and probably half of New Hampshire—knew about my date. Or more to the point, who my date was with.

“You know me,” I chuckled. “Always up for an adventure.”

Crocus chuckled, as though he was afraid to make too much noise, and shook his head. His eyes glinted with humor as he took my money and handed over a box of chocolate treasure.

“See you next week,” he said.

I did a two-finger salute to the brim of my imaginary cowboy hat as I stepped back outside.

The sweet aroma of blooming flowers in the myriad baskets and planters that lined Main Street and hung from window boxes in the apartments above filled my senses.

I’d always loved this time of year, when everything was fresh and vibrant and full of promise.

As I was about to turn the corner at Bellflower Street, heading back to the station, I saw a familiar man on the sidewalk heading toward me.

I would have recognized him anywhere, even now, in his incognito mode, with his lush hair tucked up under a black baseball hat and mirrored sunglasses hiding his electric blue eyes.

He wore tight-fitting jeans and a jean jacket over an equally tight-fitting black T-shirt with a design I couldn’t make out.

My fingers twitched with the need to reach out and touch.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my hands to myself when he stopped in front of me. “I’m surprised to see you still here.”

“I decided to stick around for the week and explore the area,” Dallas said with a crooked smile. “This is a charming town.”

That my small town had charmed Dallas enough for him to stick around a little longer filled me with happiness. I had the sudden urge to bounce on my toes. But I stayed cool. Just.

“Well. If you’d like a tour guide,” I said, trying not to sound overly eager and no doubt failing. “I’d be happy to offer my services.”

Dallas grinned, and it took me a second to realize what I said. Heat crept up my neck, but I smiled back. Any service he wanted from me, he only had to say the word, and I would grant it wholeheartedly.

“You are a very good tour guide,” Dallas said, his voice low, and I wondered if he was remembering our kiss, too.

We stood there staring at each other for what felt like hours, while energy sparked in the air and the floral breeze ruffled through my hair.

Something passed between us. I didn’t know what, and I wasn’t sure how on board I was with it.

More kisses? I was there for that. More than kisses? Oh, hell yeah. But more more—

A car horn honked, jolting me back to the here and now.

“Here.” The charged moment gone, I tucked the Harmony Chocolates box under my arm and pulled my phone out of my pants pocket. I handed it to him with a giddy feeling bubbling inside. “Let’s trade numbers and you can let me know when you want that tour.”

I glanced down the street as he entered his digits and saw Mrs. Jennings walking along the sidewalk on the other side. Her red hair glinted in the sun.

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me .

“Hello, Conor,” Mrs. Jennings called out, waving.

I waved back. Grateful she couldn’t tell that my smile was more of a grimace from across the street.

“Is that Dallas Blade with you?” she shouted as a car passed by.

Dallas looked up at his name, a crease in his brow as he waved back. Mrs. Jennings put her hand on her chest, like parents did when they saw their kids doing something adorable, then she looked both ways down the road.

Crap . Don’t cross the street, don’t cross the street.

Luckily, she continued on her way with another wave, but now the whole town would think Dallas and I were together. At least that’s how she would tell it. Then Mrs. Jennings and her silver-haired gang would have a summer wedding planned for us before the end of the week.

“I was heading over to Mabel’s Bistro for a ginger tea,” Dallas said as he handed my phone back after sending a text to himself, so he’d have my number, too. “Would you like to join me for a drink?”

“I’d love to, but I’m on shift until seven,” I said, motioning to the box I was holding. “I’m just picking up treats for the guys at the station.”

“Oh,” he said softly.

That one word sounded heavy. Was he disappointed?

“Are they as good as I hear?” he asked, pointing at the box.

“ Are they as . . .?” I gasped in mock offense and opened the box. “Take one.”

He picked out a square-shaped truffle with gold flakes sprinkled on one side and popped it into his mouth. I watched with rapt attention as he savored the sweet confection. My gaze followed, glued to the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

“ Damn ,” he groaned so decadently I had to fight back a groan of my own. “That is good.”

I shifted on my feet, gulping hard and willing myself not to sport wood in the middle of Main Street.

And then he was looking at me expectantly.

I didn’t know how long I’d stood there staring at him as he ate a friggin’ piece of chocolate.

To be fair, though. The sounds he made while eating it should have come with a may cause arousal warning label.

“Uh . . .”

Ugh. Look at me, all eloquent and shit .

“I think I’ll go over there after getting my tea and grab some for myself,” Dallas said with laughter in his voice, and I got the feeling he’d repeated that sentence more than once. He coughed, once, the sound breathy.

“Make sure that you do,” I said, getting my mental balance back under control. “Tell them I sent you.”

“Will do,” Dallas said, the words cracking. His face pinched, and he coughed again, though this time more fully.

It was only then that I realized how hoarse his voice had sounded.

He couldn’t still be having issues from inhaling smoke the other day, could he?

The fire had been small, and I’d put it out quickly.

Any smoke he’d inhaled would have been minimal and shouldn’t have affected him much, if at all. Certainly not four days later.

“Are you okay?” I asked, knitting my eyebrows in concern and patting his back. Then I remembered he’d told me about having vocal surgery.

“Yeah. Sorry,” Dallas said sotto voce. “My throat’s a bit sore. I haven’t rested it enough since the show.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, but shook his head.

“So, no more talking today,” I said, watching him closely. He nodded. “Go get your tea. I need to get back to work, but text me if you want that tour, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile that damn-near sent me to my knees. “See you around, Conor.”

I grinned. “See you around, Dallas.”

I watched with a frown on my face as he crossed the street and headed for Mabel’s Bistro.

He looked back as he reached for the door and waved before disappearing inside.

As I headed for the station, that kick in my step a little higher because I would see Dallas again, I made a mental note to call Sam to see if he had any maple remedies to ease a sore throat.