by J. H. Croix
“Why don’t you name it Jasper’s Red?” Simon mused. “I mean, you’re a partner now, and you love it. It’s a way to claim your stake.”
Anna looked a little surprised, but then her pretty eyes widened. “That’s a great idea,” she finally said. “Jasper’s Red. What do you think?” Her eyes landed on me.
I thought that felt too personal. I thought I was in over my head. A goat who shared my name, and now wine? I wanted to throttle Simon because I knew he was poking fun at me. I didn’t, though. I simply shrugged. “If you think it’s a good idea.”
“Do you have a wine named after you?” Bridget queried, sipping her wine as she looked at Anna.
Anna shook her head quickly. “I don’t. Haven’t done that before.”
“Well, maybe your next new wine should be named after you. You guys can have some kind of celebratory thing for your partnership,” Simon offered.
Did I mention yet I wanted to throttle him? What the hell was he doing?
When Bridget said something to Anna, I cast a quick glare at Simon. He winked and took a swallow of his wine.
That night, after Simon and Bridget had left to go check into the bed and breakfast, I leaned my elbows on the counter in the upstairs loft apartment. Anna was jotting notes down for menu planning. “You don’t have to name a wine after me, or yourself, for that matter. Simon was teasing.”
“I know,” Anna said. “Naming wines isn’t my strong suit. Maybe when you decide what you want to do, you can let me know.”
I lost track of the direction of the conversation because I didn’t follow her detour. “Pardon?” I prompted.
“It doesn’t make sense to name a wine after you if you’re going to sell your half. Once you decide, then we’ll figure that out,” she said.
Although her tone was matter-of-fact, I could see the worry swirling in her eyes and the subtle tension in her shoulders.
I needed a plan. And fast.
Because I was alone with Anna again, I was torn between two impulses. To fuck her or pull her in my arms and comfort her because I knew she was worried and felt like she was in over her head.
“Jasper?” Anna prompted.
“I haven’t decided,” I replied. Then I did something kind of cowardly. “You know it’s your call.”
She set her pencil on the counter. She’d been writing up another menu for the next wine tasting event. “You say that, but I know you really don’t want to be a part of this.” She looked down at the piece of paper, tracing her finger along the edge of the counter. When her eyes came up again, uncertainty flickered there. “We need to stop.” Her cheeks went bright pink.
“Stop what?” I pressed, even though I knew exactly what she was talking about.
She licked her lips, and the urge to kiss her was so strong I almost gave in.
“We can’t keep fooling around,” she clarified.
I didn’t know why I was feeling contrary, but I was. Just hearing her set that boundary notched the need racing through me even tighter.
“Fooling around? Is that what you call it? I beg to differ.”
Standing opposite her while leaning my hands on the counter, I held her eyes. She didn’t look away, but then I sensed she had a stubborn streak that rivaled mine and was never one to back down from a dare. I was daring her to look away.
“What do you mean?” she countered, her voice coming out a little raspy.
“Fooling around doesn’t capture it. We’re a blazing fire together, love. You know it,” I said flatly.
Anna’s cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink as we stared at each other. It felt as if lightning cracked through the air around us.
“It doesn’t make it smart,” she whispered. “I’m not like you. I can’t—” She gestured vaguely with her hand in the air. “I need to think clearly, and I can’t be casual about things like that.”
I suddenly realized I was pushing too hard. I dropped my hands and dipped my chin. “You’re right. It definitely isn’t smart.”
Her eyes dropped to the counter, and she picked up her pencil. “I need to finish working on these.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Anna
“How long will you be gone?” I asked Aubrey.
“Two weeks. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Pixy was frolicking in the paddock with Jasper and Tinker Bell. “Of course not. He’s a good boy,” I replied.
Aubrey grinned. “As good as a goat can be.”
At that moment, Jasper turned into the parking area. He waved at us after he climbed out of his car and crossed the parking lot into the winery. Aubrey looked back toward me. “Jasper is nice. What exactly is the situation with him?”
I kept my sigh to myself, though I quickly summarized the situation, ending with, “…and his grandfather’s will requires him to stay here for a month and for me to agree in writing before he can sell.”
Aubrey’s brows hitched up. “That’s a little unusual. How do you feel about it? I know you’ve been stressed about money.”
“I don’t know how I feel. I really don’t want him to sell, but then I don’t want to be stuck in a partnership with him if he doesn’t want to be a part of it. It was so much easier with his grandfather. He just stayed over there and sent me friendly emails.”
“Yeah, that’s different from a hot British guy who’s totally got eyes for you,” she teased with a slow smile.
I opened my mouth to dispute that point but realized it was silly. My cheeks were hot when I shrugged. “I don’t need to make it more complicated.”
Aubrey’s gaze was assessing as she looked at me. “He seems like a nice guy.”
“I don’t do flings very well,” I finally said.
“Who said it has to be a fling?” she countered swiftly.
Crossing my arms, I rolled my eyes. “Just because Chance is head over heels in love with you doesn’t mean that’s what happens for everybody.”
Aubrey knew my hit or miss luck with men. It was nothing awful or heartbreaking, but I sure knew how to make not-so-great choices. I hated the whole online dating scene, which appeared to be the only way to meet anyone these days.
She gave me a hard eye roll in return. “There’s nothing wrong with being optimistic. Chance and I didn’t find our way to each other easily. You never know what could happen.”
Jasper came out of the winery again, and blessedly, Aubrey dropped that topic. After she left, I went out to the greenhouse. I was in there checking on some seedlings when I heard the door open and close and glanced over to see Jasper. His eyes traveled around the space curiously. It always felt as if he was measuring and taking everything in. And I always felt as if everything came up short.
As if to prove my point, he crossed over to a shelf that was currently empty of any plants. “What happened here?” he asked as he leaned over to look under the table, eyeing the bucket there.
“The drainage system broke. I just haven’t had time to fix it,” I said, striving to keep my tone nonchalant. It was just one tray and not a big deal, but I’d been scrambling to keep up with everything and untangle the financial mess before he arrived. I felt defensive for myself and for my grandmother.
He studied it for a moment before straightening and turning to look at me. “I’ll fix it. I’ll pick up some parts at the hardware store.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll get to it when—”
Jasper gave me a long look as one of his brows arched up slowly. I hated when he did that because it seemed so imperial.
“Anna, I can fix it. It’s no big deal.”
“Right. No big deal. That’d be great, thanks,” I managed. I returned my focus to the seedlings, pointlessly tapping the soil around them.
“Are we not talking now?” Jasper pressed.
I hated that his British accent was both sexy and annoying. The conversation only flustered me and tipped me further off balance.
I cleared my throat. “We’re talking right now, aren’t
we?”
“I suppose we are. Simon and Bridget would like to have dinner. They invited both of us.”
“Oh.” I pulled off my gardening gloves and turned, wiping my hands on my apron.
“Would you like to go?”
I knew there was no great way to avoid dinner with them without appearing rude. “Of course. Tonight?”
Jasper nodded. My nipples tightened when I felt his gaze skim downward. For God’s sake, my stupid nipples. They appeared to have a mind of their own and liked his attention. To make matters worse, the moment they tightened, I remembered the feel of his teeth grazing over them. The mere recollection of the sensation sent a little zing to my core.
His eyes came back up to mine, a subtle gleam in them. “I never knew overalls were a thing,” he drawled in his crisp accent.
My mouth went dry as my belly shimmied. I had to lick my lips before I could even reply. “A thing?”
“You know, some men have a thing for shoes or tight skirts. Apparently, for me, it’s overalls.”
I felt hot all over, and my knees went a little wobbly. With that statement, he turned and left the greenhouse. I let out a sigh as I leaned my hips against the table. Reaching over, I turned on the faucet in the sink beside me and ran my hand under it, tossing the cold water on my face.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jasper
“Oh, fucking admit it,” Simon teased.
“Fucking admit what?” I countered.
We were eating dinner at a lovely restaurant with one of those staggering views along the Pacific Highway. The sun was slipping down toward the horizon above the ocean, with the sky stained faded red, gold, and tangerine. Bridget and Anna were away from the table at the dessert bar.
Simon knocked back the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the table. “You have a thing for Anna. She’s absolutely charming.”
I almost growled at Simon but caught myself in the nick of time. We’d spent a lot of time together during family visits growing up. He knew all my buttons, and anything to do with Anna was apparently a new button.
“Fine, she is lovely. It doesn’t matter if I have a thing for her. She doesn’t think it’s smart.”
I left the rest unspoken. I wasn’t about to say out loud that my two encounters with Anna would probably stand the test of time as the hottest sexual encounters of my life.
Simon’s sharp gaze assessed me. “It isn’t smart if you’re just using her, but I think you really like her. Don’t wait too long to be smarter than me.”
“Pardon?”
“It took me a little longer than I’d like to come to terms with how I felt about Bridget, and we lost some time. When it’s that good, every minute counts.”
“For fuck’s sake, Simon. I do like her, and I don’t want to use her, but you and Bridget are madly in love and committed. I’m not sure I’m there yet.”
Simon shrugged lightly, casting me a knowing look as if he knew some secret I didn’t. Anna and Bridget returned to the table with a selection of desserts, putting an effective end to that uncomfortable conversation.
Just to torture me, when we were departing in the parking lot, Simon smiled over at Anna. “It’s been absolutely lovely to meet you. Next time Jasper comes to visit us in New York, you should come with him. Have you ever been to the East Coast?”
Anna shook her head. “Actually, I haven’t. That might be nice. I’ll see you again before you go, right?”
“Of course. We have a few more days,” Bridget chimed in.
We said our goodbyes, and with a warm smile, Anna waved at them as I drove away and silently cursed Simon.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Anna
Days passed until Jasper only had a week and a half left before he completed his month here at the winery. I tried to stay busy. Well, I didn’t have to try. I was busy no matter what. It was impossible not to be, which was a blessed relief.
Although it made perfect sense because I needed to not be stupid, it wasn’t easy to maintain that boundary I’d set with Jasper. That old lesson most of us learned in kindergarten about keeping our hands to ourselves took on new meaning. You try living with a sexy British guy whose occasional teasing smile broke through his grumpy attitude, and whose hot bod was hard to ignore.
He was very respectful and kept his distance. Except his eyes could set me on fire with nothing more than a passing look. The air often felt as if lightning were about to strike, filled with heavy tension as desire stormed through me.
One evening, I busied myself in the winery after Eloise went home, sterilizing wine bottles to use for small gifts for people who came to our next scheduled tasting. It was late, but then I’d been working late every night. It was better than finding myself alone with Jasper upstairs in the small loft apartment.
Everything was going fine. It wasn’t like I had to think much about this process because I’d done it hundreds of times. But then two things happened at once. My phone rang, and the winery phone rang. We still had this old phone mounted on the wall, and its ring was enough to shatter your nerves.
Startled at the sound, I jumped and dropped a bottle in my hands. I didn’t know what I did wrong next, but in the process of trying to clean up the broken glass, I ended up with a giant gash on one hand, so deep that my knees collapsed and nausea welled when I saw it.
I didn’t know how long I sat there on the cold tile floor before Jasper appeared in the doorway. I’d grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my mangled hand. He was across the room in a second, kneeling beside me. “What happened, Anna?” he prompted.
I felt a little lightheaded as I looked up into his concerned eyes. I swallowed. “I dropped a bottle and cut my hand,” I said slowly.
Jasper was all business although concern emanated from him. He efficiently took the hand I was cradling and unwrapped the towel. It was stained with my bright red blood. When I looked down, I felt lightheaded again, almost as if I were falling, so I was relieved I was already sitting on the floor.
“You need stitches,” he announced.
I started to shake my head, but he gave me a stern look. “We’re not arguing about this, Anna.”
“I don’t have health insurance. I can’t afford it,” I blurted out.
“Fucking America, and their stupid health insurance system,” Jasper muttered. “I’ll pay for the bill. You need stitches,” he repeated.
I didn’t have it in me to argue. The next hour or so passed in a blur. Jasper got me into his rental car, instead of my old junker. Somehow, he even found the closest walk-in clinic without any guidance from me. My hand was throbbing, and it was still bleeding. Even the fresh towel wrapped around it was stained deep red with blood by the time we got to the clinic. It turned out, Jasper was bossy. He had me situated in a small examination room with a kind doctor in a matter of minutes.
“Now,” she began, “would you like your husband to stay or go while I stitch you up?”
I looked from her to Jasper, who was kind of glaring at her.
“It’s fine if he stays,” I finally said, not really having it in me to correct her impression that he was my husband.
She had my hand stitched up quickly and was discussing the three days of painkillers she planned to give me and how to clean it with Jasper. I was suddenly exhausted and just wanted to go to bed.
Jasper excused himself to use the restroom. The doctor, Dr. Janet as she had introduced herself, looked over at me. “Your husband sure is protective and worried about you. You found yourself a good man,” she said, her cheeks plumping with her smile as her blue eyes twinkled.
I knew he was a good catch, but he wasn’t mine. I finally felt the need to correct her. “He’s not actually my husband.”
She had turned her attention to the computer and glanced up quickly. “Perhaps not, but I can assure you he really likes you.”
…he really likes you.
The doctor’s words kept dashing through my thoughts. Was it that obvious? I didn
’t doubt Jasper wanted me sexually, but he liked me? I found that really hard to believe.
When we returned to the winery, Jasper practically carried me up the stairs. I had to swat him away with my good hand and thanked the stars I hadn’t injured my right hand.
“I can walk up the stairs,” I protested.
He kind of glowered at me. “Fine. I’m right here if you need me.”
We got up to the loft, and I turned to him. “It’s just a cut, you know. I’m fine.” I lifted my hand as if to prove my point.
“Tomorrow, don’t even think about dealing with the chickens or the goats. Or anything, for that matter. I’ll take care of it,” was his reply.
My mouth must have fallen open then because Jasper let out a growly kind of sigh. “What? You know I can deal with the goats and the chickens. I’ve helped you a number of times. I will also handle the wine tasting.”
My cheeks got hot. “Jasper, I can handle the wine tasting. I’ll let you take care of the goat and chicken feedings.”
He shook his head sharply. “You can sit at the bar during the wine tasting and chat with customers. But you don’t need to work.”
We were still standing by the doorway. Annoyed, I turned away and toed off my tennis shoes. Crossing into the kitchen, I was startled when he appeared by my side rapidly. “What do you need?” he asked.
“Something to drink,” I said slowly, giving him a weird look because he was being totally weird.
“You can’t have alcohol,” he announced as if he had some sort of say in the matter.
He opened the refrigerator, his eyes scanning the contents. “Take your pick, cranberry juice, lemonade, or water.” When he looked up, his gaze was completely serious. He seemed to have no idea how ridiculous he was being.
I burst out laughing. “For starters, I can have wine if I want.”
He didn’t laugh. His eyes swept over me, lingering on my hand. Which, come to think of it, was throbbing. The painkillers they’d given me at the walk-in clinic hadn’t kicked in yet, and the local anesthetic they’d sprayed over it for the stitching was clearly wearing off.
