Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(30)

And look how that one had ended.

So it was time to try a new tactic, and since my brother was one of the smartest people I knew, I was giving his advice a try. Once I left Montana, I was going to be single for a change.

Dakota wasn’t the right man, but he was a good man. He was refreshing. If I found a good man once, maybe I’d find another someday.

Or he could find me.

I walked back to Dakota’s room, smiling at the rumpled bedsheets. They were definitely going to need washing. But I didn’t know how to use a washing machine or a dryer, so I’d have to ask him for help.

Or, better yet, we could just get them even dirtier. Then he could teach me how to do laundry.

I walked over to the column of drawers inside his closet and opened the top one, searching for something to wear. I found a pair of thick, brown wool socks. I took them, along with a long-sleeved flannel, and pulled them both on.

Then I grabbed one last thing from the nightstand before going in search of my new lover.

At the door, I looked both ways down the hallway, reorienting myself with the house. One direction led to another bedroom and bathroom. The other led down a long hallway that opened up into a living room.

I skimmed my hands over the cool leather sofa as I passed through the living room. All of the furniture was angled at the large television mounted on the wall. Surround sound speakers were flush mounted on the walls and ceiling. The two lounge chairs facing the TV made me cringe.

They weren’t exactly ugly—but they weren’t pretty either. Their brown leather matched the couch, clearly part of a set. But they were lounge chairs, complete with handles to kick up the footrests and built-in cup holders.

They were probably comfortable and obviously practical for watching Monday Night Football. None of those qualities had ever ranked high on my interior design checklists.

With no sign of Dakota, I kept exploring.

I walked toward the kitchen located at the front of the house. It was a galley style with clean white cabinets and quartz countertops. At the far end, there were two doors. I assumed one led to a basement and the other to the garage.

We’d come through the exterior back door last night and through the living room. He’d parked his truck in a detached shop behind his house. I doubted he’d left me here alone, and since going to check to see if his truck was where we’d left it meant walking outside in the snow, I opted for the basement first.

The temperature dropped as I opened the door and took the first few stairs. Through the darkness, I could make out a landing at the bottom in the faint light. A chill ran over my arms, and I wrapped them around my middle.

“Dakota? Are you down there?”

When I didn’t get an answer, I turned and scurried back upstairs, closing the door behind me quickly. Basements had scared me ever since I was nine and I’d snuck into our theater room at home where Logan and some of his friends had been watching a horror movie.

I’d hidden behind a couch, watching the movie even though I was supposed to have been in bed. Logan had found me when I’d screamed at the woman getting hacked to pieces on the screen.

My brother had whisked me away to my room, then stayed with me all night simply because I’d asked him to. He’d missed his sleepover with his friends to care for me.

I wasn’t sure where I’d left my phone last night, but as soon as I found it, I was going to send Logan a text. I’d never said thank you for that night.

Thank you had been missing a lot from my vocabulary.

With no sign of Dakota in the basement, I walked to the other door. The moment I got close, I heard music blaring from the other side.

Carefully, I pulled it open and peeked through the crack.

Dakota was in the center of his garage, lying on a workout bench. He’d converted the garage to a gym.

Free weights were all lined up on racks against one wall. He’d put in mirrors on a few walls and mats all across the floors. An elliptical machine squatted in one corner, a treadmill by its side.

I opened the door farther, leaning against the frame as Dakota bench-pressed a bar with two black weights on each end.

He wore only a pair of shorts, leaving his sweaty chest bare. The muscles of his arms bunched and shook as he brought the bar to his pecks, then pushed it up on an exhale. I swallowed hard, my pulse racing at the sight of his washboard abs.

Last night, we’d had sex with the lights off. Today, I wouldn’t be making the same mistake. I wanted the visuals to go along with the feelings.

Rep after rep Dakota pushed himself. Finally, he set the bar on the rest behind his head and sat up. He dragged his fingers through his sweaty hair, separating the black streaks with his fingers.

He reached for the floor, swiping a towel to dry his face. Then he swapped it for the water bottle by his feet, squirting a long stream of water into his mouth.

His tennis shoes were on, but he hadn’t done up the laces. The white strings draped loosely down to the black rubber mats.

“Morning.” His greeting carried over the loud music. He didn’t turn, but he must have caught me in the mirror.

“Hi.” I pushed off the doorway and went down the three steps to the garage floor. I walked to the speaker in the corner, pausing the angry rock music.

The silence in the room was instant and startling. I could hear Dakota’s chest heave as he took another drink of water and regained his breath.

“This is nice.” I swung a hand out to indicate the gym.