Page 7 of Bear Naked Truth
He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Noted. Strictly professional fake-dating with casual fond glances and occasional hand-holding.”
“And no telling the town yet,” she added. “Let me scope things out first. Spirit-wise.”
“Of course.” He tapped his temple. “I trust your ghost radar.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Sure it is. You got that look when the air shifts. It’s all intense and haunted. Very chic.”
Autumn shook her head, trying not to smile. “You’re exhausting.”
“You like me anyway.”
She said nothing, not sure why she wasn’t able to deny it.
They spent the rest of the morning walking through the house again, this time with Autumn making more descriptive notes, checking pressure points, and letting her senses expand just enough to feel what wasn’t visible.
The first time it hit her, they were in the old study.
A whisper.
Soft. Not words, exactly. Just… longing. A breath of emotion that didn’t belong to either of them. She paused, one hand on the edge of a dust-covered writing desk.
“You okay?” Dorian asked, watching her carefully.
“There’s something here,” she said quietly. “It’s not angry yet. Just… watching.”
He nodded. “That’s pretty much how the house has felt since I moved in. Like it’s waiting.”
“Most ghosts are,” she murmured. “For someone to listen. For a truth to be told.”
They moved on to the library next. She let her fingers trail along the book spines, eyes narrowing as one vibrated slightly beneath her touch. “This shelf shifts itself?”
“Only when someone’s going through heartbreak,” Dorian said. “Or when I play country music too loud.”
“Same thing.”
He laughed, deep and genuine, and the sound made something warm uncurl inside her chest.
They didn’t touch much, just the occasional graze of fingers when he handed her something, or when she steadied herself on a creaking floorboard—but every time they did, she felt her body heat up and tense all at once. His skin was warm. Always warm. Like a low-burning fire under the surface.
By the time they reached the third-floor landing, she was bone-weary and buzzed from the constant low hum of spirit energy.
“I need a break,” she said, leaning against the wall.
Dorian nodded and opened the window nearby. A breeze drifted in, cool and pine-scented, carrying the distant sound of laughter from the square below.
“You ever think about leaving?” she asked suddenly, surprising herself.
He leaned beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “I did. After the fire. Thought about running as far from these mountains as I could.”
“But?”
“But something kept pulling me back. Maybe it’s the land. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Or maybe this old house whispered sweet nothings when no one was lookin’.”
Autumn looked at him trying to understand.
He wasn’t what she expected when she took the job. Too kind. Too open. And yet… there was steel under the sweetness. A quiet kind of strength that didn’t need to prove itself.
