He was downstairs waiting when Dakota emerged from the stairwell twenty-eight minutes later. Kivani’s breath caught. Dakota wore black skinny jeans that hugged his legs and an oversized cream sweater that hung off one shoulder, revealing the line of his collarbone. His bleached hair was loose today, falling around his face in soft strands. He’d done something to his eyes, made them look even bigger somehow, and his lips were slightly pink like he’d been biting them.
“Hey,” Dakota said, tucking hair behind his ear. That gesture again. Kivani wanted to reach out and do it for him, wanted to feel the silky strands between his fingers.
“Hey.” Kivani’s voice came out rough. He cleared his throat and gestured toward the door. “Ready?”
“Sure.” Dakota fell into step beside him as they walked outside. The morning air was cool but pleasant, carrying the smell of autumn leaves and wood smoke. “So what kind of fruit are you looking for?”
“Apples, definitely. Maybe pears if they look good. I want to try making a caramel apple taffy for fall.” Kivani glanced sideways at Dakota, taking in the way sunlight caught in his pale hair. “You like apples?”
“They're okay. I’m more of a berry person.” Dakota smiled, small and genuine. “Strawberries especially.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
They walked through town, passing the diner from last night and the bookstore and the antique shop that never seemed to have any customers. Dakota looked around with interest, his eyes tracking over storefronts and side streets like he was memorizing the layout. Kivani wondered what he saw when he looked at Crimson Hollow. Safety? Boredom? A place to hide until he figured out his next move?
The farmer's market filled the town square, vendors set up under white tents with their goods displayed on folding tables. The crowd was modest but steady, locals doing their weekly shopping and chatting with neighbors. Kivani nodded at a few familiar faces as they wove through the market, Dakota close enough that their shoulders bumped occasionally.
He even saw the alpha of the local wolf pack, strolling around with his mate, Preston.
“This is cute,” Dakota said, pausing to look at a display of homemade candles. He picked one up and sniffed it, his eyes closing as he inhaled. “Oh, that’s nice. Cinnamon and orange.”
Kivani watched Dakota’s face, the peaceful expression that softened his features. His tiger wanted to buy Dakota every candle on the table, wanted to fill his apartment with things that made him look that content.
“You want it?” Kivani asked.
“What? No, I was just smelling it.” Dakota set the candle down and moved to the next table, which was covered in jars of honey in varying shades of amber. “I don’t need a candle.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Dakota looked at him, something flickering across his face that Kivani couldn’t quite read. “You don’t have to buy me things.”
“I know I don’t have to.” Kivani picked up the candle Dakota had been holding and handed the vendor a few bills before Dakota could protest. He gave the wrapped candle to Dakota, whose mouth had fallen open slightly. “I wanted to.”
“Kivani—”
“It’s a candle, Dakota. Not a marriage proposal.” He grinned at the way color flooded Dakota’s face. “Come on, I need to find those apples.”
They moved deeper into the market, Dakota clutching his candle and shooting Kivani looks that ranged from exasperated to fondness. The produce vendor had exactly what Kivani needed, ripe honey crisp apples and golden pears that smelled sweet and ripe. He picked through them carefully, selecting the best ones and loading them into the canvas bag he’d brought.
“You’re very particular about your fruit,” Dakota observed. He was standing close, watching Kivani’s hands as he examined each apple for bruises or soft spots.
“The fruit is the star of the candy. If it’s not good quality, the whole batch suffers.” Kivani held up an apple, turning it in the light. “This is what I’m looking for. See? Firm, no blemishes, the right color.”
“Can I try?”
Kivani handed him the apple and watched as Dakota studied it with the same focus he’d used to organize the taffy last night. His fingers traced the apple's surface, testing for soft spots, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated. Kivani’s tiger rumbled low, pleased by Dakota’s careful attention, by the way he took this seriously even though it was just picking fruit.
“This one's good?” Dakota asked, looking up at Kivani for confirmation.
“Perfect.” Their fingers brushed as Kivani took the apple, and he saw Dakota’s breath hitch. The moment stretched between them, both of them frozen by their hands nearly touching over a piece of fruit in the middle of a crowded market. Kivani could hear Dakota’s heartbeat accelerate, could smell the change in his scent as attraction flooded through him.
Dakota pulled his hand back first, tucking hair behind his ear again. “How many do you need?”
“A dozen or so.” Kivani’s voice came out lower than normal, and he saw Dakota’s eyes dart to his mouth before looking away. “Want to help?”
They picked through the apples together, falling into an easy rhythm. Dakota would select one, Kivani would approve or reject it, and slowly the bag filled with perfect fruit. The vendor, an older woman named Martha who'd known Kivani for years, watched them with knowing eyes and a small smile.
“Your friend has a good eye,” Martha said as Kivani paid.
