by Jo McNally
“You’re thinking of your parents. That they should have done better?”
His hand stopped moving, then started again. “They did the best they could. That’s what everyone kept telling me. It wasn’t our fault. Our parents were doing the best they could. Blah, blah, blah. The problem was, their best was pretty bad.”
“Is your father in jail for killing Doug’s brother?” It was hard to forget the words Doug and Frank had thrown at him last weekend.
“Man, I am really sorry I suggested talking.” He took a deep breath. His words came out clipped and sharp, as if he wanted to get it over with. “No. My father’s in prison for his third armed robbery. After my mom died, booze wasn’t enough for him, so he moved on to stronger things. That did not help his already bad judgment. Didn’t take long for him to gather up a third-strike arrest and catch a long prison term. He can rot there, as far as I’m concerned.”
There were no words to make that story less awful, so Whitney just wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. He resisted for a moment, then returned the embrace, resting his head on hers.
“My brother and Doug’s brother were in a car accident a few years back. They were both too drunk to drive. But Larry Canfield was the one behind the wheel when they went off Hilltop Road and barrel-rolled through a cornfield. He died on the spot. Zayne broke about every bone in his body, but he survived somehow. Too much of a miserable SOB to die, I guess.”
“I take it you’re not close? What about the rest of your family?”
Luke shrugged. “Zayne’s even more of a loner than I am. I call him every month or so, but he doesn’t always pick up. My sister, Jessie, calls once in a while from Florida. My baby brother, Riley, joined the army and I guess that’s his family now.” His father’s crimes had scattered the family like the wind. Or like a bomb. “How about you? I don’t remember you mentioning siblings?”
“Nope. Only child. Just not the spoiled kind.”
“Because you were the one taking care of things.”
“I still do, but I keep my distance to protect my sanity. I actually called Mom this morning, though, and had to listen to her raving about the new boyfriend and how he’s gonna make a few calls and maybe she’ll get an audition for some big TV competition next season and oh, my god, it never changes.”
“An audition? That sounds pretty awesome.”
She snorted. “Yeah, it always sounds awesome. But the reality is she’s a lousy judge of men. She’ll fall for anyone who promises to make her a star, and George is no different from all the others through the years. He’ll get her hopes up, then he’ll cheat her out of some money and get her to buy him a car or something, and then he’ll disappear.”
“Can she actually sing?”
Whitney smiled against his chest, remembering being a little girl and listening to Mom sing all day long in their house. “She’s got a great voice. She’s made a decent living as a wedding singer and lounge singer in Vegas. But it all goes back to those bad decisions.”
“Are you worried about this George guy?”
“Nope. Most of Mom’s money is safely invested in accounts she can’t access without my permission. He can get some cash out of her, but not enough to hurt her financially.”
He kissed the top of her head. “You’re like a financial ninja, Whit. Using your money brain to protect the people you care about, like your mom and Helen and Evie. It’s cool.”
She’d never thought of herself as a warrior of any kind. He tightened his grip and moved her onto his lap.
“And I think we’ve done all the talking we need to do tonight.”
She moved to straddle him, putting her hands on either side of his face.
“But what else is there to do?”
His mouth slid into a crooked smile.
“I’m sure we can come up with something.”
And they did.
When she looked out the dining room window and saw him in the vineyard the next day, trimming leaves from the vines, she didn’t hesitate to set her laptop aside and head out the door. Helen had left early for a hair appointment, so Whitney hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about Luke. But she would. For now, she just wanted one of those daylight kisses he’d talked about in the dark last night.
He straightened when he saw her, watching as she walked toward him between the tall rows of vines. Molly sat up and barked once in greeting before settling back down at his feet. Whitney glanced at the trimming shears in his hand.
“Whatcha doin’ up here?”
“Getting a little more sunshine on the berries.”
Bright green grapes hung in large clusters on either side of them, fattening in the late summer sun. She reached for one cluster, then hesitated, looking at Luke.
“Can I try one?”
In answer, he reached over and plucked a grape from the vine, wiping it gently on his shirt before handing it to her.
“They might be a little bitter, but they’re getting sweeter every day as we get closer to harvest. Hold it like this...” He held it up for her, the stem end against her lips. “The skin can be tough, but if you squeeze the bottom, the flesh will pop right out of the skin and into your mouth. Like this...” He pinched the end of the grape, and her mouth exploded with flavor. It was tart, but definitely grapey. She gave a low moan of pleasure.
“Can we afford to lose a few more grapes?” She reached for a bunch, but hesitated.
Luke reached over and clipped off four grapes. “If you yank on them, you might damage the others. And yes, we can spare a few grapes.” His eyes darkened. “Especially if I get to see that expression on your face again.”
She held up a grape and squeezed the end until the flesh popped into her mouth. “Oh, my god. It feels so...decadent. I feel like I’m suddenly connected to centuries of history. I can imagine Cleopatra plucking grapes and eating them like that. Give me one more...”
He handed her a grape, keeping one to eat himself. He didn’t find it quite as delicious as she did, twisting his face. “Still sour. Wait a few more weeks, and then you won’t be able to stop eating them. When they’re ripe, each grape is like a sparkling sugar burst.” A few birds flew overhead. “Pretty soon Steve and I will have to net the vines to keep the birds from stealing our berries.”
“I think they’re pretty irresistible now.” She ate the last one, staring longingly at the heavy bunch hanging from the vine. Luke didn’t answer, and she found him staring at her. This was a look usually reserved for his place after dark. His voice wasn’t a daytime voice, either. It was low and rough and filled with desire.
“I think you’re pretty irresistible.” He stepped forward and gave her a playful wink as he tugged her against him. “Although you can be a little sour.”
A laugh bubbled up in her throat. “Hey!”
That was all she was able to say before his mouth fell on hers. Gentle but demanding, his fingers wrapped around her hips and held her close. Hmm. A daylight kiss. A kiss that tasted of grapes and sex and...something. She couldn’t describe the feeling at first, turning her head to give him better access. He growled and slid one hand up her spine to cup the back of her head, making it difficult to think. It was more than pleasure. It was more than desire. It felt like...falling. She was falling into this kiss, into his embrace, and into him. She was falling for Luke, without a safety net in sight. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Helen’s voice, coming from three feet away, jolted them apart.
“I brought some lunch home, if you think you can untangle yourselves long enough to come eat it.” She stood there, arms crossed, with an amused smirk on her face as she looked back and forth between them. “Oh, please. I’m not an idiot—I’ve known all week.” She turned toward the house. “I hope you two know what you’re doing.”
Whitney touched her lips. She hoped the same thing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LUKE’S DAYS FELL into a pattern he’d never expected to see in his lifetime. Waking in the morning with a beautiful woman in his arms. Cooking her breakfast—on the mornings they didn’t join Helen—then going off to do their own jobs. Whitney worked on Helen’s books, along with a few other businesses around town she was doing bookkeeping for. He worked the winery. Sometimes they saw each other at lunchtime, but if not, she’d come up to the wine barn midafternoon with a bottle of water and a ready kiss. The kiss quenched him more than any water could. Her kisses were a salvation for his heart.
Dinners depended on whether he was working the bar or not. If he was, dinner was early at his place. Sometimes early enough to hop in the shower together before he left her to wait for him. If he wasn’t working the Shamrock, they had dinner with Helen. If he thought Helen started smiling more when Whitney first arrived, well...these days, that smile never left her face.
Tonight was no exception. Luke had done the cooking, but the three of them enjoyed the short ribs in Helen’s kitchen. The women were finishing up the dishes as he enjoyed his coffee. That was the rule—whoever didn’t cook, cleaned up. In a couple short weeks, they not only had a routine...they had rules. It should have felt foreign and weird and uncomfortable, but it didn’t. It felt right. Like this was what he’d been looking for all along and he’d never even known it.
Helen hung her towel on the oven door handle. “Well, that was one of the best meals I think I’ve ever had. But now all I want is a nap!”
Luke met Whitney’s gaze. Yeah, a nap. Or something else bed related. Helen didn’t miss the change in atmosphere.
“Oh, good grief. You two are like a couple of horny rabbits!”
“Aunt Helen!” Whitney laughed, her cheeks turning pink.
Helen waved her off. “Bah, you know it’s true. Enjoy it. There’s nothing quite like the beginning of forever.”
Luke and Whitney both went still, confronted with the word neither of them had discussed. The word forever had certainly floated through his mind more than once when he held her in his arms. But he had no idea what she was thinking. She’d talked about job hunting a few weeks ago. They’d said no strings attached. So why did he feel his heart was already ensnared?
“And speaking of rabbits, you don’t always have to sneak off to Luke’s tiny den out there.” Helen put the last of the pans in the drawer beneath the stove. “When you and Tony converted the family room into our bedroom suite, Tony made sure there was insulation in the walls. If he was watching baseball out in the living room, he didn’t want to keep me awake.” She gave Whitney a pat on the back, then did the same to Luke as she walked by. “That means I can’t hear anything that goes on upstairs, either. Just sayin’...” She headed out of the kitchen, but stopped to speak to Molly, lying at Luke’s feet. “And yes, you can stay, too. Just leave Boots alone and remember this is her house.”
He and Whitney stared at each other in shock for a moment after Helen left, then burst into laughter. Helen Russo never ceased to amaze him. She’d basically given them permission to go upstairs and do whatever they wanted. He stood and tugged Whitney into his arms, knowing they both wanted the same thing.
Luke had never been inside Helen and Tony’s old bedroom. After Tony broke his ankle badly five or six years ago, they’d moved to a first-floor suite they’d created from the former family room. They decided they liked the convenience of being downstairs and stayed there. The upstairs suite Whitney was using was bigger than he’d imagined, with a nice sitting area inside the round tower extension. From there you could look down at the lake, where a few rooftops from Rendezvous Falls could be seen among the trees, or up to the vineyard.
“This puts the views at my place to shame.”
Whitney walked over, sliding her arms around his waist. “I don’t know. I kinda like the views I get at your place.” She winked when he looked down at her. “Although it’s nice to have all the clothes out of sight.”
“Yeah, yeah, Miss Fussy Housekeeper. You’ve made it clear you don’t approve of my organizational skills.” He ignored her snort of laughter. “But I know where everything is in that place.”
“Sure! Because you can see everything in that place. It’s all right there in the open.” She bumped her hip against his. “And appreciating things like dressers and cupboards and closets does not make me a fussy housekeeper. It makes me normal.”
“Normal, huh? Do normal people keep lists and spreadsheets for everything? Color code every task? I’ll bet your closet’s even color coded.” He noted the way she glanced at the closet door. “Oh, my god. It is, isn’t it?”
She tried to hold him back, laughing, but he made it to the closet. Sure enough, blue tops hung with blue tops, pink tops hung with pink tops, and so on.
“You do understand there’s nothing ‘normal’ about this, right?”
“Maybe not, but it is efficient!” She slammed the door closed. “Now come over here and fulfill all those fantasies I’ve had of you crawling into my bed for a change.”
He nudged her toward the large bed, covered with a blue-and-yellow-flowered comforter. “Are you telling me you’ve lain in this bed and fantasized about me?” The image made him so hard his jeans hurt him.
Whitney sat on the bed and ran her hand across the top of it. “Maybe. Back when I was sneaking back here at sunrise, thinking we were fooling Helen. I never could go back to sleep.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fall asleep without being in your arms.”
Luke ignored the tremor of anxiety that rocked him. Ever sounded a lot like forever. Was it possible Whitney was thinking long-term, too? Or maybe she was just making casual conversation. Meaningless words. Nah, she was looking for that next big thing, and that certainly wouldn’t be in Rendezvous Falls. It wouldn’t be with him. She tugged her top up over her head, revealing the dark lace bra he liked so much, and his worries about the future evaporated.
When he woke the next morning, he found Whitney standing in the sitting area, with the comforter wrapped around her like a royal robe. He pulled on his jeans, but didn’t bother to fasten them. He slid his arms around her and she leaned back against his chest with a sigh.
“Look at those colors, Luke. It’s like the whole sky is celebrating the birth of a new day.”
“Mmm-hmm. Pretty.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “That’s all you got? Pretty? That sunrise is gorgeous!”
Something about having her in his embrace always made him want to sway to unheard music. “What sunrise? I was too busy looking at you.”
She rolled her eyes, swaying with him. They were silent for a moment before she softly asked a question he didn’t know how to answer.
“Where is this going, Luke? You and I—what are we doing?”
What he was doing was falling in love. He knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. Not until he knew where her heart was. He wasn’t ready to give her that kind of power over him. But he loved this woman, and he couldn’t help wondering if that was the biggest mistake he’d ever made. After all, from the day she’d shown up at the winery, she’d accused him of all kinds of things. Had her suspicions about him evaporated? He kissed her temple.
“I don’t know, Whit. I like whatever it is we’re doing. I like it a lot. I hate to think about it ending, but...”
She continued to stare out the window, watching the sun rise over the hills across the lake, her head resting against him. “Does it have to end?”
Why was she putting this on him? “What do you think?”
“I think I hate the thought of it ending, too.”
“But...?”
Her shoulders fell. “But I don’t know how this plays out. I’ve never felt...anything like this. But I can’t see how...unless I stay...”
Luke didn’t react, but that word—stay—r
esonated in him like a bell. Could he ask her to do that? Would that be fair?
“Is that what you want?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, shaking her head. Was it possible she was waiting for him to ask? Damn, was this one of those read my mind moments married guys complained about? Was he supposed to know what she wanted without her saying it? If that was the game, they were in trouble. Because Luke Rutledge wasn’t about to risk a bad guess. Not with his heart on the line.
That night, he and Steve Jenkins got to talking at the Shamrock. Steve didn’t usually frequent the place, but he said his wife had kicked him out of the house for a few hours so she could have her girlfriends over to make salads in a jar, whatever that meant. Luke slid a local craft beer across the bar to his older, wiser friend.
“Did Linda come right out and tell you she wanted you to leave?”
Steve’s brows shot up. They usually talked about wine and grapes and that was it.
“Oh, she made it very clear. I mean, it’s not like she just ordered me out tonight. She told me last weekend I had to find somewhere to be Thursday because of this party. God forbid any man overhears the secrets women share once they get a few glasses of wine in them.”
“So she didn’t hint around and hope you’d know? Women don’t really do that?”
Steve laughed so loud nearly everyone’s head turned toward them. He wiped his eyes, then he slapped his hand on the bar and started laughing all over again.
“What the hell is so funny?” Luke growled.
“Oh, man...” Steve wiped his eyes again. “What’s so funny? It could be the way you asked me that—like you were actually praying it was some silly rumor you’d heard. But it could also be the idea that you’re asking about women!” He winked at Luke. “Let me guess—that niece of Helen’s got under your skin?”
Luke glanced around to make sure everyone had gone back to their own conversations after Steve’s outburst.
“Something like that, yeah. It’s casual, though.” There was nothing casual about his feelings, but no need to advertise if he was making a mistake.
