Page 4 of Craving

“You okay to drive?” He opened the front door of the hotel for her then returned his hand to her lower back when she stepped through.

“Yes,” Camilla answered. “I’ve been drinking water for the past three hours, and I only had three drinks all day.”

“Good. You can follow my car.”

They drove for five minutes, into one of the old neighborhoods near the heart of Stirling. When she parked in the driveway next to Marlon’s car, Camilla leaned on the steering wheel and stared. Her heart gave a violent, sudden lurch.

The house was gorgeous. Miles of gingerbread trim decorated every balcony and every eave. Two white pillars framed the front of the house, holding up a tall porch. It needed a new coat of paint, but the yard was well kept. A big oak tree clung stubbornly to the last of its leaves, watching over the house like a sentinel.

This was the house of Camilla’s dreams. This was where she pictured herself growing old, right in the heart of her hometown.

Her family would snort at that dream, of course. Both parents and both siblings were fancy, important people with important jobs who wanted more from their lives than a little clapboard home on a small lot. They never failed to let Camilla know that her dreams were too small. Too mundane. Too female.

But as she stepped out of her car and took in every detail in the yellow light of the nearby streetlamp, Camilla couldn’t help but clasp her hands at her breast and feel. She didn’t even know what she was feeling, only that it was powerful. Her gusted breath caused a cloud of white to puff in front of her face. The cold of the evening air was a distant sensation.

This day just kept getting better, and better, and better.

Marlon stomped up the three steps to the front porch, opened the screen door, and unlocked the front door. He reached inside and flicked on the porch light, then turned around and frowned at her. The light cast his face in shadows, with his strong brow shadowing his eyes. It sent a thrill down Camilla’s middle to have him look at her like that, which was ridiculous. She was loopy from the emotion of the day and the relief of having a bed tonight. That was all.

Smiling brightly at his scowl, Camilla opened the back door to grab her things. As soon as she had her duffel bag in her hands, it was promptly removed from her grasp. Marlon threw the strap over his shoulder, then put his hands on Camilla’s hips and firmly moved her to the side. She let herself be manhandled by him, mostly because she liked the feel of his hands on her hips but also because she wasn’t quite sure how to react.

He peeked inside her car and grabbed the two other bags of toiletries and miscellaneous items that hadn’t fit in the duffel, carrying them both in one big fist.

“That everything?”

Oh, Camilla loved his voice. It was deep and rumbly, and it made her vibrate all the way down to her toes. She nodded, glad she could blame the cold for the flush in her cheeks. “Yep.”

She didn’t have much. She’d been living with roommates before and had had to get rid of her bed when she moved out. She had no other furniture to call her own. There were a few boxes of clothes stashed in one of the bakery’s storerooms, but these few bags were all she really owned. Once her life was back on track, she could find somewhere to settle and grow roots.

Somewhere just like this, she decided. Now that she was debt-free, there were endless possibilities. She could buy a house of her own! She could finally indulge her romantic side and find someone to date seriously. She could move on.

Inside, the house was just as charming as Camilla expected. Wide timber floorboards stretched down the hallway. To the right, a large sitting room opened with a big bay window looking out on the street. To the left was a small TV room dominated by a big L-shaped couch.

Marlon walked straight ahead and climbed the stairs. They creaked with every step, and Camilla couldn’t help her smile as she let her fingers trace the whorls and fanciful details on the spindles of the banister. Crown molding decorated the top of every wall, and in the middle of the foyer, a big ceiling medallion held up a dramatic, dusty chandelier.

She was in love with this place. It hit her like a rogue wave, and she could do nothing but let herself get swept away. Maybe it was wedding frenzy. She’d just spent hours celebrating love with all her best friends, and now she got to live in a gorgeous old house packed with character from wall to wall and floor to ceiling.

She followed Marlon up the steps to the top level, where he led her to the front of the house. A thin carpet runner ran down the middle of the corridor and stopped at the entrance to her room at the end of the hall.

She stood in the doorway as Marlon placed her bags down next to the dresser. She couldn’t move. It was too perfect.

Marlon frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You live here?” Camilla whispered.

He planted his hands on his hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She stepped inside, letting her fingers run over the thick doorframe, eyes scanning the room. Her heart leaped. “There’s a fireplace,” she said, still whispering.

Marlon turned to the wall, staring at the iron grate. “It doesn’t work,” he grunted, scowling.

“Who cares if it works? It’s so pretty!”

At this, Marlon turned back to her, frown deepening.

She crossed the room toward him and before he could move, threw her arms around his torso. Her hug pinned his arms awkwardly to his sides, but Camilla didn’t care. She squeezed him tight as he stood stiff as a board, shoving her face into his chest.

He smelled amazing.

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