Page 31 of Anything for You
“This is really nice,” I said, enjoying the gray marbled countertops and stainless appliances. There was a deepfarmer’s sink and a butcherblock kitchen island along with a small bar. I was so flustered that very first night when I’d broken in, I hadn’t appreciated how nice everything was. The living room had a warm tone to it, but everything faded when I noticed the stunning setup.
“Have a seat. I thought we’d be informal. It’s what I do for the guys, if you don’t mind.” He waved a hand toward the coffee table where a half-dozen small plates held all manner of tiny, beautiful bites.
“This is amazing,” I said, more breathless than I had been when I said hello last night. Because it was beautiful.
And I now knew he was the one who’d been sending food to our book club. And then I remembered the things I’d said about whoever was responsible for that food… Heat burned in my cheeks and I said a silent prayer.Here’s hoping Jo didn’t actually tell him what I said all those months ago!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dove
Dorian Forrester, giant tree-farming ex-special ops soldier, served me tea in a dainty bone china cup with a fine golden honeycomb pattern and little porcelain bees perched on the arch of the handle.
They were stunning. And completely unexpected.
“I wasn’t sure what kind of tea you like, so I went with a classic English breakfast. I also have chamomile if you prefer decaf or something lighter.” He arrived with a teapot that matched the delicate cups and all the requisite dishes for cream and sugar.
“This is so lovely. I’m a little embarrassed to say I didn’t have any idea this would be so fancy,” I said, heat at my cheeks.
“What did you expect?” he asked, holding aloft the teapot in question, then guiding it down low to pour the warm liquid into the cup after I whispered, “Yes, please.”
“I’m not sure. I guess a less ornate setup, maybe?”
He huffed softly. “It’s gotten fancier over the years.”
“Years? You’ve been doing afternoon tea like this for years?” I lifted mini tongs and selected a perfect sugar cube. The fact that he had cubes made this even more delightful for some reason.
“Kenny started it years ago. When I was struggling, he’d come over and make me try different teas and little treats. He’d pretend he needed my help figuring out what each tea tasted like or whether to order this or that item for a meeting, but it was just an excuse to check on me.” His eyes stayed on his cup where he stirred in a drop of milk.
“Check on you,” I repeated, not quite a question, but feeling around in the phrase for more information.
He sighed and took a sip of tea, savoring the drink and taking his time with it. I watched his throat work to swallow and enjoyed my own tea while bracing for whatever he’d tell me. Jo and Jess had mentioned something had happened to him, and I’d also wondered.
He adjusted his big body in the seat. His knees were higher than the coffee table. The squat setup was the only thingnotfancy about it, but somehow, it made him look even larger in this moment when his shoulders had risen toward his ears and his face had gone serious.
Was I making him uneasy? It was the last thing I wanted, to make him uncomfortable, especially in his own home, his sanctuary.
“You don’t have to tell me. You’ve hinted at something in your past and I’d like to know you. If you’re not ready for me to know whatever this is about you, that’s okay.”
I hoped he’d let me in sometime, but it didn’t have to be right this second. It felt like I’d stripped naked in front of him more than once lately, between how we firstmet with me in his bed to me sobbing into his shirt, and yet I didn’t feel embarrassed, and I certainly didn’t want him to feel pressured.
“I don’t mind telling you. It’s not something I keep hidden. It’s just more…” His gaze shifted around his quaint, cozy living room, then snagged on Bear, whose head had perked up like he could sense a shift in Dorian’s mood. “It’s more I don’t want you to think of me differently, but I don’t really know that that’s an issue.”
“Well, I can’t make any promises, but I can say so far, I think of you as a bit of a mystery with serious baking and tea skills. Also, you’re an excellent landlord and you appear to be a lovely dog dad and a great friend.”
His light brown eyes lingered, the way they settled on mine sending a fresh trill of nerves straight to my toes. I couldn’t read his expression but everything in me wished I could. So much hid behind those eyes and that beard.
“Thank you. That’s very kind.”
I shrugged a shoulder and reached for what I now recognized as one of Dorian’s signature items—a tiny lemon tart.
As I took a bite, he spoke again.
“I was always pretty quiet. It’s not unusual in the EMU—lots of people are introverts, despite what the stereotype and media depictions might make many think. Anyway, I was quiet, but after my last deployment, I started struggling hard. Things went wrong, and I had some physical therapy to do where I’d gotten injured, but I didn’t address the mental health piece.”
What had he seen and done? How had he been injured? I wanted every bit of detail, but I wouldn’t stop him when he’d just started opening up.
I wouldn’t allow myself to cry. It wasn’t fair to him tostart blubbering over his moment and put myself in a position to need comforting, but my heart was already aching and I wanted to wrap him up with my whole body like an overgrown koala and just hold him.
