Page 33 of Fallen Flame

I’d always joked that I practically lived at the Dairy Bar. Now I actually missed it.

Funny how quickly normal became something you longed for once someone took it away.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, slipped it into my back pocket, and headed for the door.

One hand rested on the knob and I glanced back over my shoulder at the room.

It still didn’t feel like mine.

The bed was made. My overnight bag sat neatly against the wall. A borrowed hoodie hung over the chair in the corner.

Temporary. Everything about this room felt temporary.

I pulled open the door and then immediately walked straight into something solid. “Oh!”

My forehead hit what felt like a warm brick wall.

Not an actual brick wall.

A very broad... very solid... very warm man.

The impact knocked me backward before I even realized what I’d run into. Strong hands caught me before gravity could finish the job. One settled against my waist and the other wrapped around my upper arm, steadying me with surprising gentleness.

My balance wasn’t the only thing thrown off. Every single one of my senses suddenly seemed determined to focus on the man standing in front of me.

Oliver.

Warm.

Comforting.

Dangerously distracting.

I tipped my head back. “Oh...” The word escaped before I could stop it.

He looked even better than he had the night before.

Morning light spilled through the hallway window behind him, catching the dark blond hair on top of his head and the neatly faded sides. His beard was trimmed close enough to look intentional but full enough that I couldn’t stop wondering what it would feel like beneath my fingertips.

Would it be rough? Soft? Some combination of both?

His blue eyes met mine. Calm and steady. Impossible to read.

Except, not completely. There was a flicker of annoyance when I looked up at him.

Not because I’d walked into him. Because I already knew what I was about to say. “Ollie,” I gasped.

There it was. That tiny twitch in his jaw. His mouth pressed into a straight line for all of half a second. I waited for the correction. Don’t call me that.

Instead... nothing.

“Morning,” he grunted.

Well, that was new.

I smiled before I could help myself.

His hands were still on my waist. Warm. Firm. Comforting.