Free Dandelion Dreams by Samantha Garman

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