Sweet Dandelion
“Would you like to read another?” He stands, walking over to the far right of his bookshelf unit. He puts 1984 away and waits for me to join him.
“I don’t know.” I slip my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, rocking on my heels. “Is everything you have to recommend so depressing?”
His lips turn down in thought, his eyes scanning his shelves. “Do you think you’d like a thriller? Something psychologically twisty?”
I shrug, picking up a picture frame from his shelf. “Maybe. I’m not exactly a hearts and flowers kind of a girl so a mind-fuck sounds right up my alley.”
His lips quirk into a smile.
I study the picture inside the frame. It’s a younger Lachlan, maybe nineteen or so dressed for a game of golf, the club held in his hand. He stands beside a man that could be his twin if it weren’t for his more auburn hair compared to Lachlan’s jet black. But the facial structure, shape of the lips, and eye color are all the same.
“Your dad?”
He looks down at the image with a fond smile. “Yeah.” I put the frame back where I found it, scanning more of the knick-knacks there. “Dani?” Lachlan prompts me and I force my gaze from the shelves. “I have a book I think you’d like, but it’s at home. You can drop by and get it if you want?”
I know he’s not inviting me over, but my body warms anyway, humming with some sort of electricity.
“That’d be great.”
His arm brushes mine as he moves, picking up a frame higher up and handing it to me. “My mom, sister, dad, and grandpa.” He points out each individual surrounding him at his college graduation. My heart pangs because I’ll never have a picture like this. His mom has raven black hair that hangs down in long waves and an olive complexion. His sister is a perfect mix between both parents. Her hair is dark, but not as dark as Lachlan’s, with hints of red.
“Your mom and sister are beautiful. You’re close with your family?”
“Very. I have a ton of cousins too that all feel like siblings.”
“What are their names?” I point to his family in the picture.
“My mom is Catriona, my sister is Isla, my dad is Niall, and my grandpa is Leith.”
“Wow,” I hand the frame back to him, “that’s a lot of unique names.”
“My Scottish roots run deep.”
He stretches up to put the picture back on the top shelf, his shirt stretched taut over his muscular form. I bite down on my lip to keep from making some sort of noise.
“Do you own a kilt?” I blurt.
He straightens, lips twitching with laughter. “I do actually.”
I thought picturing Lachlan in a kilt would help calm my racing heart but it’s having the complete opposite effect.
Not cool, heart. Not fucking cool.
“It’s the family tartan pattern and everything.” The way his eyes sparkle I’m not sure if he’s being serious or having fun with me.
“Have you ever been to Scotland?”
Only inches separate our figures. Neither of us has made any move to return to a seated position. I wonder if he notices the way our bodies seem to gravitate toward one another without any thought, at least on my part. Yes, I’m attracted to him, I think any sane female would be, but I wouldn’t purposely cross a line. My body, his too, doesn’t seem to know there is one.
He shakes his head. “No, not yet. It’s on my bucket list.”
“I’ve never given much thought to things I’d like to do before I die,” I murmur softly, finding looking at him suddenly difficult. I swallow stiffly. “I guess I should now, you know, after everything.” My heavy sigh echoes through the room, hanging there in weighted suspension.
“Can you think of one thing you might want to do?”
“Traveling would be nice, I guess. Mostly I want…”
He turns, his body angling downward toward mine in an almost protective gesture. “You want?” I don’t know if he realizes it, but his voice is husky. It makes my center clench and ache in a way it never has before. I had a few brief relationships before the shooting, one that lasted nearly a year. So, it’s not like I’m totally inexperienced. But none of those guys ever made my body react like this. “Dani?” His tongue slides out the smallest bit, wetting his lips.