Dandelion Dreams

by Samantha Garman

  “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.”

&nb
sp; “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.

  He would have to leave me in the morning, when the sun would rise and time would start again. But for now, the sleepy minstrel sheltered me in warmth. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

  •••

  The next morning I was not at all surprised to find I was alone in bed, but I was stunned by the wash of bereavement. I was supposed to be glad I had my space back, but when I breathed in, I no longer detected the scent of sunshine and mountains—the smell of Kai.

  Stumbling downstairs, I halted. Kai was in the kitchen, standing at the counter having a cup of coffee, like he belonged there—like he lived with me. Taking a moment, I consumed him with my eyes. He wasn’t very tall, close to five-ten maybe. His body was sturdy, almost compact, and when I was in his arms, I didn’t know there was a world outside just the two of us. His hair was dark brown and a bit too long; it fell into his face. I didn’t know if he owned a razor, but I liked his gritty jaw. He was careless with his appearance, but it didn’t matter; all I saw were captivating eyes and a kindred spirit.

  I moved behind him and pressed my cheek to his back. He stiffened and then relaxed. Setting down his coffee cup, he turned to me, pulled me into his arms and lifted me onto the counter. He stood in between my legs, which I wrapped around him. He was in boxers and a white undershirt, his hair sticking up on end. I smiled and smoothed the most endearing, irreverent cowlick I had ever seen.

  Placing my hands on his chest, I closed my eyes. “You’re still here.”

  “Where else would I be?” His voice was husky with sleep and something else. Desire, maybe.

  “I don’t know,” I answered, talking into his neck. “None of this seems real.”

  “The most surreal moments are often the most genuine.”

  “I didn’t believe it when my mother died, but it turned out to be the only truth of my life.”

  “This is truth, too.”

  “Is it?” I still wasn’t sure.

  His arms tightened, but he didn’t speak. I let him hold me before pulling back and stealing his coffee. Touch of cream was how he took it, I noted.

  After we showered and dressed, Kai walked me to the back of the bed and breakfast, kissing me on the lips and saluting before walking away. He didn’t tell me he’d see me that night; it was already a forgone conclusion. Whether I wanted him or not.

  Ship in the night, I reminded myself, seed in the wind. And I’d let him go when the next place called to him.

  •••

  I spent the morning at the desk with Celia, but by the time afternoon rolled around, I knew I couldn’t put off the confrontation with Luc any longer. I found him drinking a beer on the balcony that overlooked the vineyard. It was cold and quiet, but the sky was clear.

  He didn’t turn as I approached. Perhaps he was expecting me all along.

  “You’re with Kai.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Certainly looked that way to me.”

  “I was engaged, Luc. Not long ago.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.”

  “That’s why I’m telling you. I don’t know what I want,” I admitted. “All I know is what I don’t want.”

  “And that’s me?”

  “This isn’t about you. This is about me. Let me breathe, Luc.”

  He picked at the corner of the beer label and peeled it. He still wouldn’t look at me.

  “You don’t want me, not really. You think you do because you don’t know the real me.”

  “Do you even know the real you?”

  I glanced at the vines, my gaze landing on a rut of dirt. “No, I don’t. I thought I did, once. It was all a lie. Do you want me to lie to you, Luc?”

  When he wouldn’t answer, I walked away.

  •••

  “I haven’t talked to my family in two years,” Kai said. His voice was quiet, his hand sliding up and down my arm. Lying in the double bed, my head resting on his chest, I stroked his brand. It was jagged, like my heart.

  “Do you miss them?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “No, it’s true.”

  “Do you miss anything?”

  “My favorite fishing hole,” he admitted. “I miss the hours I’d lose up in those mountains. I miss Reece and Tristan, but that goes without saying. I miss Alice and Keith, Reece’s parents, who are more my parents than my own. I miss my grandmother. But I don’t miss my Mom and Dad, or brother.”

  “Why not?”

  His sigh was labored. “My parents want me to be a certain way, and Wyatt…”

  “Wyatt?”

  “My brother. He’s everything I’m not.”

  I mulled over his words before asking, “Do you plan to go back?”

  “No. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You ever think of going back to New York?”

  “To what?” I sat up, my tangled hair falling across my shoulders.

  “What did you leave behind?” He sat up too, the moonlight turning his skin silvery blue. Somewhere far away the sky rumbled.

  “Nothing—there’s nothing there.”

  “A girl like you always has someone waiting.”

  Without thought, I glanced at my ring finger.

  “Sage, are you married?”

  “Would it bother you if I was?”

  He didn’t answer, he just continued to stare at me.

  I sighed. “No, I’m not married.”

  “Engaged?”

  “I was.” There was no apology, no sadness in my voice. It all seemed so long ago, my relationship with Connor. “None of that matters now.”

  “How could it not matter?”

  “The same way it doesn’t matter that you’ve been with a bunch of women.”

  “It’s different,” Kai insisted. “I wasn’t planning to share a life with any of them. Di
d you leave him?”

  “Yes,” I explained. “It needed to end. So I ended it.” I examined him, trying to see all the little parts that made him who he was. “You’re afraid I’m going to leave you, too.”

  “No, I’m not.” He climbed out of bed and went in search of his pants.

  “Like hell you’re not,” I said, watching him. “You think I abandon people.”

  “Do you?”

  “No. It looks that way, maybe, but it’s not true. I know what you’re doing.”

  “What?” His voice was strained with hurt and rage.

  “You’re leaving me before I leave you, before you’re in too deep.”

  “Don’t you get it?” He stalked to the side of the bed and hauled me into his arms. “I’m already in too deep.”

  “This has to be enough,” I begged, “please, this has to be enough.” It was a broken plea.

  “For now.”

  His mouth came down to claim mine in fierce possession. I ripped at his clothes, tearing into him, wanting him to brand me until I knew him in my bones. It scared me—our intensity. I wondered what we would leave in our wake, but I was straining towards it anyway.

  Maybe not a passing ship after all.

  Maybe the seed had settled and taken root.

  Chapter 13

  Kai

  I came to, knowing it was morning. I inhaled—Sage was near; she shifted closer, and the tickle of her long brownish-red hair joined her smell.

  “You want a lot from me, don’t you?” she whispered.

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  “It would terrify you if I told you.”

  “Get out,” she commanded.

  I forced her to meet my gaze. “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?” she demanded, throwing her legs over the side of the bed.

  “Exactly as it sounds. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She moved away, and I watched her from the confines of the covers, staring at the woman who was doing everything in her power to retreat. It was too late for that; I’d follow her. Maybe I could be relentless when I wanted something. Who knew?