Open Your Heart (Kings Grove #4) - Delancey Stewart Page 0,41

a little boy, a young man, and this fully grown adult, believing he was actually doomed—that his love was capable of dooming others. It was mythic. And while I subscribed to the occasional woo-woo sentiment (just ask Wind about my short-lived green tea fast or my commitment to making my own kombucha, which, as it turns out is very difficult to do when you live in a tiny Manhattan apartment), I did not believe for a second that Cam was cursed. Or that I was risking anything other than my heart by getting too close to him.

That thought fully formed, I did realize I didn’t exactly need to be rushing into some kind of romantic entanglement here, considering I had solid plans to leave soon. And I’d managed to trip right into this after how many days back? I hadn’t even officially started work yet.

All in all, I’d had a great night, cemented a solid working friendship with my new boss, Mike, and gotten to know a few other folks around the village. I enjoyed Cam’s sister a lot, and knew Maddie and I would work well together as her wedding neared. I just hoped I could live up to her expectations.

Miranda and Sam were sweet, too, and while I didn’t get to talk to them much, I felt immediately welcome among this group of close friends. I hoped maybe I’d have a few people to hang out with now, for as long as I was here. Though it wasn’t my dream town, and my heart missed New York sometimes, I was starting to feel settled here, even at home.

The big house whispered around me and I did my best not to think about how many empty spaces the place held, about how anything could have come in while I’d been out, despite my locked doors. I knew rationally that Kings Grove was a safe place. I knew nothing had come inside while I’d been out at dinner. I knew all of this, and still, I had to force myself not to listen carefully for the floor creaking upstairs, for the sounds that would reveal that I was not actually as alone as I believed.

I’d just about talked myself back to calmness (after searching all the rooms—the only way to put my mind at rest, and though I felt silly doing it, I still walked the floors, opening doors and peering under beds) when that eerie screeching yowl filtered through the closed windows from the dark hillside beyond my house. I shuddered as my heart picked up speed once again. Between my thoughts about Cam and the creeping fear that seemed to linger in the darkness, I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping now.

Instead, I streamed a yoga class to the television and tried to embrace my mind’s desire to churn, tried to accept myself as I was (potentially nuts), and breathe deeply into my stomach. After an hour of that, I was still nervous, but now I was sweaty, too. I ran water over my wrists at the kitchen sink (the thought of a shower alone at night in a big house was beyond me at that point) and filled a glass. While I stood there drinking it, I allowed my gaze to drift to the lit windows of Cam’s house.

Even though he was there and I was here, the knowledge that he was home, and awake, actually calmed me in a way nothing else had since I’d walked in the door of my dark house. I let my eyes rest on his bright window for a long minute, and thought about the way I felt kissing him earlier.

Warmth rolled through me when I thought of him, of his intense eyes, his troubled words. Part of me wanted to win him over, to accept the challenge he posed and do my damndest to charm him into wanting me again. And a bigger part of me knew I should focus on my goals—get enough money to pay my dad back and get out of here.

I put the television on low, pulled the snuggly throw blanket around me, and curled up with a cup of tea, my mind lingering on the bright troubled intensity of those icy blue eyes, the way those corded arms had felt around me, the slide of his hands up my back. And when I finally closed my eyes, I found myself dreaming of the kiss I’d shared with Cam. I dreamed I was weak enough to pursue