Dandelion Dreams (8 page)

“Am I hogging the bed?” he asked.

I snorted. “It’s barely a bed. How can you hog it?”

Kai attempted to move over. “I’m not used to sharing a bed.”

Not to sleep,
I thought dryly, but didn’t reply. His statement made me think of Connor—the last person I wanted in bed with me. But still, I couldn’t expel him from my mind. I’d broken our engagement only a month ago, and I was already in bed with another man. I shoved thoughts of Connor aside, and the guilt that came with it.

“What are you thinking about?” Kai asked quietly. His hand ran down the knobs of my spine, lingering at my tailbone.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What are you thinking about?” I countered.

“Fishing.”

“Fishing? I feel like I should be offended.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “If I was back home, this is the time I’d be getting up. I’d put on my waders, grab my pole and head out to the lake.”“I’ve never fished before.”

“No?” he asked in clear surprise.

“I’m from Brooklyn,” I said as if that explained everything.

“Aren’t you close to water?”

“The East River doesn’t count.”

He laughed.

“Actually, you can fish in Prospect Park. Have to throw the fish back though. Seems kind of like a waste.”

He made a vague noise of agreement. “I always eat what I catch. Are you tired? Do you want to go to sleep?”

“I’m kind of hungry,” I admitted. As if on cue, my stomach moaned.

“Come on, I have some food, I think.”

We got up and he slipped into boxers and I threw on his discarded t-shirt. Kai opened the refrigerator and pulled out a block of cheese, smiling in triumph. I peeled an orange that rested on the counter and set it onto a plate.

“Want some cider?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He opened a bottle of brut cider and poured it into one glass. He gave me a lopsided grin as he handed it to me. “I figured we could share. I don’t have cooties. Promise.”

My lips twitched into a grin. “I don’t believe you.”

We took our snack to the kitchen table and ate in comfortable silence. The crisp cider went down a little too easily, and soon I was feeling drowsy. I got up, set the empty dishware in the sink and turned to him and smiled.

“Are you any good? At fishing, I mean.”

“Not bad,” he said, though it sounded like feigned humbleness.

“How many fish have you caught in one trip?” I asked as I climbed into bed. Kai got in next to me and settled the covers over us before spooning me.

“Ten. All before dawn. Once the sun comes up, it’s like the fish know you’re trying to catch them.” He swept his lips across the skin below my ear. “Good night, Sage.”

“Good night, Kai.”

I dreamed of lakes.

•••

I woke just as the sun was rising, but when I attempted to get out of bed, Kai’s arm shot out and grasped my wrist.

“Don’t even think about it,” he mumbled into the pillow.

“Think about what?”

“Leaving.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

He chuckled as his arms wrapped around me, and I turned towards his embrace. His eyes were open; they were clear, serene, magical. “You’re a shitty liar, you know that?”

“Let me up,” I protested, struggling against his arms.

“Not until you promise you won’t bolt.”

“I promise. Now let me make some coffee, or you’ll wish I had left. You do have some here, right?”

“Yeah.” He released me, and I scrambled out of bed, giving him a view of my backside. He pulled on a pair of shorts, but left his chest bare. “You don’t do this a lot, do you?”

I moved around the kitchen and made coffee as we conversed. “What, sleep with strangers? How could you tell?”

“Just knew.”

“Am I just another notch on your belt?”

“Would it bother you if you were?”

I shrugged. “What can a girl hope to expect? It’s not like we spent a lot of time getting to know one another.”

He smiled. It was slow, heated. “I know you fine, but I’d like to know you better.”

I looked at him, amusement stamped across my mouth. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Let’s call this what it is and leave it at that.”

“Are you telling me you used me for sex?”

I laughed. “What if I did?”

“I feel so used,” he teased.

I pulled out two mugs and handed him one. I had no idea how he liked his coffee, and I didn’t want to pretend I did, so I poured it black.

“Let me take you to dinner.”

“Are you promising to buy me food before we have sex next time?”

“Well at least I know there will be a ‘next time’.” He grinned. “I win.”

I looked at him for a long moment, sipping my black coffee. It was hot, and it scalded my tongue, so I set it down. I went to grab my belongings, shimmied into my clothes, and then put on my coat. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt—at least for one more night. “Come to the
Château de Germain
tonight. I live in the small cottage behind the bed and breakfast.”

“You live on a vineyard?”

“Yes. Bring a bottle of bourbon. I’ll take care of the food.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

•••

“Someone got in early this morning,” Celia said with a wry grin as I joined her at the front desk.

My face heated, but I said nothing.

“It’s okay, you know.”

“What?”

“Moving on with your life.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Don’t think too much about it,” Celia said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Enjoy it.”

Even after my night with Kai, I was still in a river of grief. What did I expect after a month in France? A miracle?

“What’s it like for you?” I queried. In all this time, I never thought to ask how Celia was dealing with the loss of her oldest friend—I felt heartless.

“Nothing like what you’re going through,” Celia said. “Losing a friend weathers differently; losing a parent…nothing compares.”

“Loss is loss, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. You want to tell me about the guy?”

“Nothing to tell. A ship in the night—he’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Celia sounded like a cryptic fortune-teller.

“What do you mean?”

“Things have a way of finding us and sticking when we least expect it.”

•••

I pulled the door open and stood back, letting Kai inside. I wore a pair of black leggings, a slouchy white sweater and house slippers. The roaring fire swallowed the chill from the air, lending a comfortable ambiance to the room.

“Cozy,” he said, leaning in and grazing my cheek with his lips.

“Let me take your coat.”

He shrugged out of it, and I hung it on the rack as he set a bottle of bourbon down on the coffee table.

“What have you got planned?” Kai asked, his gaze straying to the pillows and blankets in front of the fireplace. The coffee table was set with two whiskey glasses and platters of cheese, bread, olives and fruit. “Is that going to be enough for both of us?”

“Used to bigger portions?” I teased.

“Yup. Must be the Southerner in me.”

“Ah, I had an inclining you were from the South. You’ve got that lazy drawl—it’s like whiskey and lemonade on a hot summer day.”

He grinned. “You like my accent?”

“Maybe.” I paused. “Where are you actually from?”

“Monteagle, Tennessee. What about you?”

“I’m from New York.”

“Yankee!” he said, feigning shock. “Don’t worry I don’t discriminate.” He winked.

“Thank goodness for that. Take off your shoes. Stay a while.”

He grabbed the bottle of bourbon. “Ready to crack this open?”

“Sure. Ice?”

He nodded, and I went into the kitchen with the two glasses. A moment later, I returned and we sat down on the pallet and took a sip of our drinks.

“Hi,” he murmured, leaning closer.

“Hello.” I let him kiss my lips, enjoying the warmth of the fire and him. He pulled back, picked a grape off one of the plates, and popped it into his mouth.

“I was surprised you opened the door.”

“Were you?”

“I thought I might’ve scared you away. I’m glad I didn’t.” Though his tone was light, his eyes blazed with intensity.

I took a large swallow of bourbon, but said nothing.

“It feels easy, you know? I want to be myself around you.”

“Thank you for that,” I said in sincerity. Unveiling ourselves to strangers was never an easy task. There was always the fear that the other person wouldn’t like what they saw.
 

I picked up the bottle and topped off our drinks.

“Are you ready to tell me why you ran out of the café when I played that song?”

I peered at him over my amber liquid. “Only if you tell me about your brand.”

“I was going to tell you about that anyway.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You first.”

Kai clenched his glass, turned somber eyes to me and said, “Two years ago my best friends died in a plane crash. Now I wear their initials.”

The air left my lungs, and I blinked several times—whatever I had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. We were both fluent in the language of grief.

His hand came up to stroke the side of my cheek. “What happened to you?”

I sighed. “The first time I ever heard the song you played was at a concert with my mother. And she died—a little over a month ago.”

It was his turn to be speechless, and then he cleared his throat. “A month? Wow.”

I nodded. “Ovarian cancer.”

“Fuck.” He shook his head. “What brought you here?”

“My mother’s oldest friend married the man who owns this vineyard.”

“Had to get away?”

“Yeah, you?”

“I left home right after they died, and I haven’t been back since.”

I leaned into his touch. “Have you been in France the whole time?”

Kai shook his head. “I started in Asia, and I go wherever, whenever.”

“Playing your mandolin in cafés?” I smiled. His hand moved to my hair, and he twirled a strand around his fingers.

“That’s a fairly recent thing.”

“Is it?”

“Only since I came to France.”

“Which was when?”

Kai laughed. “About a month ago.”

“Interesting timeline,” I noted.

“Isn’t it?”

I kissed him, and as I did there was a knock on the door, startling us apart. “Sorry, I don’t know who that could be.”

“No?”

I stood, and answered the door with a slight smile on my face, not at all prepared for Luc to be on my front steps. “You’re back?” I blurted out.

He nodded. “Just now. Listen, can we talk?” His eyes widened when he saw Kai, who rose and came to stand behind me. I felt Kai’s heat through his shirt, and I wanted to press into him, but that would give them both the wrong idea.

“Now is not really a good time,” I said.

“No kidding,” Luc replied, his gaze trained on Kai. “Who are you?”

Luc asked the question like he had the possessive right, but I didn’t know how to get around introducing them. “This is Kai. Kai, this is Luc. He’s the son of the owners.”

Kai held out his hand, ever the Southern gentleman. Would Luc be as refined? He was French after all.

When it was clear that Luc was not going to take Kai’s hand I asked, “Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Sure. Whatever,” Luc said before leaving.

I closed the door and turned to face Kai. His blue-gray eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

“Did you sleep with him?” Kai asked, his voice tight.

“Not so good with beating around the bush, are you?”

“Sage…”

“If I did?” I challenged.

Like a jungle cat, he was on me, pushing me against the door, his mouth covering mine. It was a brutal tempest of emotion, and I held onto him like a castaway in a life raft.

“I didn’t,” I murmured once Kai’s kisses calmed. He bathed my forehead with tender lips as if apologizing for his irrational behavior.

“What happened between you two?”

“Is this really any of your business?”

“I’m making it my business. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look that way.”

My sigh was weary, but I gave in. “I didn’t lie to you.”

“Do you want him?”

“No,” I stated. His eyes poured into me, filling me up with the depth of his feelings. I wanted to shake in fear. “Don’t make claims, and don’t ask for promises.”

“Okay,” he said in reluctant acceptance.

I raised an eyebrow. “You ready for dinner?”

“No.”

“More bourbon?”

“No.”

“Should we go upstairs then?”

“Yep.”

•••

I watched Kai sleep on his stomach, like a baby that wanted for nothing. The fairy moon outlined his fair skin in a silvery glow, a demigod gilded in shadow. He stirred. Pain rarely slept, even in dreams, but tonight we’d both rested peacefully. I had awakened only moments ago, needing to see him with my own eyes, to remember he was there.

“We should get candles,” he mumbled into the pillow.

I trailed a hand down his back, loving that he shivered at my touch. “Candles? Candles are cliché,” I whispered, placing my head next to his so our breaths mingled.

“I want to see you golden.” He rolled over. “That first night you came to the café, I couldn’t help but notice how you looked in candlelight.”

“You’re like a wandering bard, you know.”

“I’m no bard.”

“But you
are
a wanderer.”

We never made it back downstairs for dinner, choosing instead to spend our time in bed—touching, sharing, exploring.

“Would it really have bothered you if I’d slept with Luc?” I asked.

He inhaled deeply as if he was stalling for time so he could choose his words carefully. “I know it’s hypocritical since you know my history, but yeah, it would’ve bothered me.”

“Luc? Or the idea of Luc.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’m glad nothing happened between you two. It’s one thing to know you’ve been with other people—it’s another to have to see them.”

“That’s fair, I guess.”

I kissed his collarbone and wondered how he’d played his way into my blood. He held me like his mandolin, cradling me so that I felt like a cherished possession. Kai had learned the corners of my soul, and it had occurred in the darkest part of the night, when the stars peeked out from the clouds and a sliver of moon rode high in the sky. I felt both aged and reborn.