Page 146 of A Little Tempting

And just like that, I know I’m a goner. Dylan Thorne. Wallflower. Daenerys doppelganger. And stealer of hearts…including mine.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

37

DYLAN

Ilove my childhood home. Seriously. It has a smell no candle can replicate. It's a combination of whatever’s cooking in the kitchen, fresh linen, and my mom’s perfume. I love the cozy furniture and the way I know ice cream is stashed in the freezer. I love the gray stone fireplace in the family room and how a fire is almost always blazing from November to February. I love the fuzzy blanket hanging along the back of the cozy, cream-colored couch I spilled juice on when I was a little girl and the way my parents soaked it up with dish towels as I cried in the corner, feeling guilty as hell for ruining the fabric until they gave me a hug, then flipped the cushion over, proving everything was still perfect, and I had no reason to be bawling my eyes out over spilled juice.

I love the love emanating from every corner. Every surface. Every picture hung on the walls.

But it’s a little strange being here now. Knowing you came from a loving home without thinking much of it until you’re standing next to someone who hasn’t. Who wasn’t lucky like me. Who didn’t have amazing parents. Opportunities galore. A full belly and a happy childhood.

Slipping off my jacket, I hang it on the coat rack near the front door as laughter echoes from the back of the house. Oliver’s behind me, and he follows suit, making himself comfortable.

“You okay?” he murmurs when I stay frozen in my family’s entryway.

I nod but remain quiet as a burn hits the back of my eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He cups the side of my face and lifts my chin. “Another headache?”

I shake my head, my heart aching at his thoughtfulness. “It’s not that.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just…I was thinking about how different our childhoods were.”

His chuckle is low and dry and sardonic at best. “And it made you want to cry?”

“I’m sorry, is all.”

His eyes soften. “Don’t apologize, Pickles.”

“I’m serious,” I push. “After seeing how horrible your dad is and how intimidated I was after a single interaction with him as anadult,” I emphasize, “I can’t imagine how rough it was growing up with him as a father. And walking in here, I took a second to imagine what it must look like through your eyes, comparing it to what I assume your childhood looked like, and…” I swallow thickly, blinking away the sheen in my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

His soft smile greets me as he bends down to kiss my forehead. “You’re cute when you’re thoughtful, Dylan.”

Glaring up at him, I smack his chest and start to pull away, but he drags me closer.

“Ollie, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” With a rough tug, he pulls me back into him like I’m his own personal yo-yo and kisses my forehead one more time. “No one’s ever cared about me, Pickles. No one’s ever looked out for me or stood up for me. Not like you do. So, thank you.” He leans even closer, whispering, “And you are cute as shit. Now, come on. Let’s see if your family hates me.”

“My family already knows you,” I remind him.

“Yeah, well, we’re official now.” He grimaces. “I have a feeling my work’s cut out for me.” Threading his fingers through mine, he adds, “Lead the way, Pickles.”

So, I do.

My family is gathered around the granite island covered with waffles, sausage, hash browns, and fruit. As we enter the kitchen, my dad steals a piece of watermelon from the bowl, and my mom snatches it from his hand before he has a chance to eat it. Then, she tosses it into her own mouth.

With a playful glare, he points out, “I thought you said we had to wait for?—”

“We’re here!” I announce.

“Dylan!” my family greets me.

My mom rounds the island and pulls me into a hug. My dad takes her place, then Jax, then Griff. Each of them takes their turns until a pair of hands lands on my hips, and a familiar heat hits my spine. Peeking up, I find Oliver.

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