Free Dandelion Dreams by Samantha Garman Page A

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