Page 43 of Anything for You
What a shift from the moments before the sheriff had arrived, when it’d seemed like we might kiss, to after, when it felt like I was crumbling again.
I was so tired of crumbling.
As I left for work, I found an envelope on my front porch.
Dove,
I’m sorry about your brother. I wish there was something I could do. If you’re not too tired after work tonight, knock on my door. Please.
He’s a fool to miss out on you. You’re a good woman.
Dorian Q
PS. Please knock.
The note stayed with me as I took blood pressures and temperatures and health histories at the clinic, mind numb except the repeating refrain he’d left with me.
He’s a fool to miss out on you.
By the time I did knock on Dorian’s door, I’d shifted from sad to resigned to accepting, and just as I’d mounted his steps, to angry.
“Glad you?—”
I burst past him into his house.
“How dare he, right? I mean what the actual…Ugh!”I practically stomped my foot, frustration and anger sending my pulse into a sprint. “How dare he be a deadbeat brother and then call me up like he knows anything about my life and call me names? Meanwhile, he’s living in a camp three minutes from my house and fifteen minutes from the town where he darn wellknows I’ve lived for years. And Nan! He could come see her!”
Bear stood watching, on alert, and his perked triangle ears and still tail made me deflate and press my hands over my face. “I’m so sorry. I just barged in here.”
Dorian’s warm hands gently took my wrists and tugged. “No need to hide. Everything’s fine.”
“I—” My voice wobbled, and I frowned. “I really don’t want to cry about this.”
But I already was, and Dorian pulled me into his chest, arms wrapping around me and holding me so perfectly snug and safe, I couldn’t manage to cry for long before I was simply hugging him back.
After indulging in his solid warmth for another minute, I pulled myself together and stepped away. “Thank you.”
He nodded toward the living room. “Sit. I’ll bring tea.”
Bear and I shared a look. I imagined him saying something like,Isn’t he so great?He was such an imposing dog—physically large and his black-and-white coloring was striking. He had a wolfish quality and yet he was such a sweet, friendly dog. Knowing he helped Dorian with his anxiety made him even more special.
The low rumble of an electric kettle sounded after a few seconds in the kitchen, but I took the time to take in the space. Worn couches and a TV on a stand, though not the gigantic eighty-inch monstrosity one might expect from a bachelor’s living room. Why didn’t I notice this last time? Oh, right, the exquisite tea party setup with the beehive teacups. I’d had eyes only for them and the cakes, and the man who’d baked them. Today, it seemed like I was seeing another aspect of him. Taking it all in, I could confirm Dorian was about as predictable as a summer storm, so I wasn’t surprised his space was less traditionally single guy.
“Hope you don’t mind chamomile. Figured something herbal might be a good idea.” He set down a small tray, one he hadn’t used for our fancy tea, and took a seat next to me on the couch.
My heart flipped like a silly little thing. What was it thinking?
He’d taken a different seat before—that was what.
I took the tea and dropped a cube of sugar in. Not super smart, but I decided not to care.
“Those are mini macarons. There’s a maple, a pumpkin, and an espresso cream, but don’t feel like you need to eat them.” His gaze fixed on his own tea as he stirred a small spoon around the edge of the cup.
“Those are almost too pretty to eat,” I said, studying the gorgeous little treats, one a saddle brown with lighter filling, one a brilliant orange with a white middle, and the last a café au lait color. They were a gorgeous fall palette and the fact he’d clearly made them himself was simply amazing. “I’m not sure I can eat them.”
He huffed. “You can.”
Oh my goodness and be still my heart, was this man blushing under that burly beard of his?Gah!
