Charlotte stood at the counter, a large butcher block in front of her as she rolled dough for some type of baked good. I introduced her to Kimberly, and she poured three cups of coffee as Kimberly and I sat down.

"What were you thinking, Charlotte?" I asked her, trying my best to glare, knowing I could have been the victim of molestation while unconscious due to her actions. Only . . . did I believe that? Did I believe Grayson capable of such a thing, even if the reason was Charlotte's herbal meddling? I furrowed my brow. I didn't think so, but men had blindsided me before. From my experience, they were mostly untrustworthy. Lord knew my father's word had never held any weight, and my fiancé's even less.

As for Charlotte, her intentions, though misguided, had been pure. I was sure of it.

Charlotte's eyes twinkled. "It seemed to me you two were avoiding each other. But then you went to dinner. And I was thinking maybe Grayson needed a small push in the right direction. And then if you two were alone all weekend . . ." She frowned. "But, I may have gotten the dosage wrong, and of course, I should have considered his virility . . ."

I groaned and put my forehead in my hand for a moment before I looked back up at her smiling face. I hardly wanted to think about my husband's virility. "I don't know that he exactly needed a push in that direction."

Charlotte stopped what she was doing, setting her rolling pin aside. "And you?" she asked, clearly hoping I would answer that I wanted the same.

"I . . ." I tilted my head. "I'm attracted to him, too. I . . ." I circled one finger around the rim of my coffee mug. "Well, there are moments when I even like him." I shook my head. "But I can't give him what he wants, for several reasons." I glanced at Kimberly and bit my lip. She gave me a sympathetic look. "But the main reason is that he would probably have no problem sharing his body with me and then going on as if nothing had happened. But I wouldn't be able to." I looked down. It had always been the way with me—where my body went, my heart followed. Fear slid slowly down my spine at the thought of how Grayson Hawthorn could so easily destroy me if I gave him the opportunity. I'd learned that lesson once, and I didn't care to repeat it. This time, I would not give in to my stupid, reckless whims.

Especially not when it came to a highly virile dragon.

Charlotte patted my hand lying on the counter, leaving a small smudge of flour on my knuckle. "That's how us women are built, my dear. When we give our bodies, we give our hearts. When men give their bodies, well . . ." She looked up as if trying to come up with the right words.

"They give their bodies," both Kimberly and I finished in unison, and then the three of us dissolved into laughter. My heart soared with affection for both of them. I had missed having girlfriends around.

I smiled at Charlotte. "Yes. So that's off the table."

"Well, we'll see," she said, winking at me.

"No evil plotting," I said. Secretly, though, my heart was warmed to know Charlotte wanted to see a true relationship between Grayson and me. Perhaps, for her, it was mostly because she didn't believe in the fake marriage we'd arranged—making it real would allow her to be happy for Grayson, rather than disappointed for him.

"Oh no," Charlotte said unconvincingly. "At least not so I get caught."

I laughed softly, and took a sip of my coffee. I was tempted to ask Charlotte about some of the things I'd learned about Grayson the other night, especially regarding Vanessa. But one, I didn't feel exactly right talking about those things behind his back, and two, Kimberly was there.

"Will he forgive you?"

"Oh, eventually. This right here," she said, nodding to the dough in her hand, "is for his favorite blueberry scones. He likes them with jam and cream. He'll act angry for a couple days just to preserve his pride, but after a few of these, he really won't be." She smiled merrily, but then went serious. "Oh, that reminds me, Kira. I’ll need to go to the south field to collect the apricots so ripe they’re falling on the ground. Do you want to help me make a couple batches of my apricot jam?"

"Oh, sure. I made strawberry preserves with my grandmother once," I said, thinking back fondly to that day.

"I like this place," Kimberly suddenly declared taking a sip of her coffee. "I think you belong here, Kira." Her words alternately brought me happiness and dread.

And as we sat in the warm kitchen, fragrant with the smells of blueberries and coffee, eating oatmeal honey muffins, Charlotte prattling on about her weekend trip, it suddenly hit me: Grayson had said that, for all intents and purposes, he'd grown up with no parents at all. I still didn't understand the exact dynamics of that situation. But he'd been wrong on one account. He'd had parents all along. Their names were Walter and Charlotte Popplewell, and they loved him as if he was their own. I wondered if Grayson even realized it.

We chatted for a while longer and then Kimberly told me she had to get going. I walked her outside and, as we stood at her car, she smiled at me. "This has been such a nice visit. I meant what I said," she looked around at the Hawthorn property, "it feels like you fit here." She studied my face for a second. "But take care of yourself. I couldn't bear to see you hurt again, Kira Kat."

I gave her a brief smile. "I will, I promise."

She nodded. "I almost hate to tell you this, after seeing how well you're doing here—"