Slow Dancing at Sunrise

by Jo McNally

  “Whitney?” Helen touched her arm.

  “What?” Her voice was much sharper than she’d intended, and Luke pounced.

  “Hey, don’t take your shit out on Helen.”

  Helen held her hands up, stepping between them.

  “Okay, we’re all tired and on edge.” She looked back and forth between Luke and Whitney. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but you need to work it out. Now.” She pointed to the carriage house. “That’s an order. And once you’ve worked it out, go to dinner somewhere nice and get away from this place. That’s an order, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  LUKE FOLLOWED WHITNEY into the tasting room. Per Helen’s orders, they were to “work it out.” He wasn’t sure how that was going to happen in their current moods, but Helen didn’t give orders often, so he tended to listen to them. Whitney marched to the tasting counter and threw herself onto a stool with a huff. She was in full diva mode right now. He couldn’t help smiling.

  “Sounds like you’re having a pretty bad day.”

  She shoved her hair off her face and barked out a laugh. “You think?”

  He stood next to her, but she wouldn’t even look at him. Very mature.

  “Look, Whitney, you need to calm down. The moose are intense, but...”

  “Did you just tell me to calm down?” Whitney’s question didn’t sound like a question at all. It sounded like a death sentence. Her head turned slowly, and he could almost hear her teeth grinding together. He raised his hand in innocence.

  “I didn’t mean it as an insult. I just meant...”

  Her hand slapped the countertop. “We are trying to save this winery, remember? And the plan is falling apart. Nothing is going right. We have no signs, no brochures, no deer for the float! This isn’t a joke to me, and it shouldn’t be one to you.”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed, thinking of the phone call he’d overheard earlier. “Don’t take on that corporate lecture tone with me. I didn’t even know we needed signs and brochures and deer to save the winery until you came along. I thought we needed good wine. We’ve got that.” He let out a ragged breath.

  Until she came along, he thought he had all he needed, too. A roof over his head. Work to be done. Simple, but enough. Then Whitney showed up and flipped it all upside down, giving him a glimpse of what could be. And like a fool, he’d thought for a moment he could have it. But she was never meant to be his. Never meant to stay.

  If he really loved her, and he was pretty damned sure he did, he should let her go. “Look, you’ve worked hard for the festival. But Helen and I may have overstated the importance of this one weekend. We wanted to get the winery solidly back on the wine trail, and we’ll do that.” Whitney had spent hours visiting tour companies, liquor stores and restaurants. She’d said she wasn’t a salesperson, but she sure knew how to hammer out a deal. He tipped his head toward her. “That was all thanks to you, Whitney. You offered specials and twisted their arms until they agreed to bring their groups to us, to buy our wines. We’ve got the winery in great shape...”

  “Except we don’t have signs.”

  He rolled his eyes. “We have signs. They’re just not the signs you want us to have. But we’ll get there...”

  She shook her head. “And we don’t have brochures.”

  He pointed at the boxes in the corner. “We have brochures. They just have a little typo. We’ll use them up and—”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “You can’t ‘use them up,’ Luke. The typo is in the name! We can’t hand out booklets that say ‘Falls Legund’ with a u. It’ll make us look like amateurs.”

  He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  “Look, it’s time for you to stop saying ‘us.’ Helen and I will deal with it, okay? You can stop worrying about this place and move on.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, her voice rising another octave.

  “Excuse me? Move on to what exactly?”

  Temporary. She was always going to be temporary. He’d made the mistake of forgetting, but she hadn’t. She’d never changed her plans. He folded his arms, too.

  “Move on to your new job. You’ve done what Helen needed—you figured out the bookkeeping. You can stop pretending you’re actually part of this place.”

  She gave a slow, disbelieving headshake. “What the hell are you talking about? What new job?” Hurt flashed in her eyes. Yeah, well, he was hurting, too.

  His mouth twisted. “Come on, Whit. Don’t play games. I expect more than that from you. But I guess that’s been my problem all along, hasn’t it?” He’d prided himself on not having expectations. Until she gave him some weird sense of hope that made him act like an idiot. That made him fall in love with her. The least she could do was be honest about it. She owed him that much.

  Her whole body recoiled at his words. High spots of pink appeared on her cheeks, and she swallowed a couple of times. The fight left her voice as her arms dropped to her sides.

  “How do you know about the job offer?”

  “I heard you talking to the guy on the phone.”

  She gave a bitter laugh, avoiding looking at him.

  “Do those security cameras have microphones, too? Were you spying on me?”

  “Sure, let’s make me the bad guy. Again.” She went completely still as he continued. “I was in the back room doing inventory. It’s not like I had to put a glass up to the door or anything—you were talking loud and clear. And then you left your notes on the counter when you were done.”

  Her gaze snapped to his, fire in her eyes.

  “And, of course, you took it upon yourself to read them.”

  “Are you surprised?” he asked, leaning toward her. Whitney’s soft perfume almost rendered him speechless. His will had to be stronger than his desire for her. His voice hardened. “That’s ironic, since you had no problem thinking I took it upon myself to take Helen’s money.”

  “Luke...” His name came out in a breathy rush, as if someone had punched her. As if he’d punched her. Damn it to hell. This wasn’t what he wanted. They could do this like adults. Without hurting each other. Too late. His pain was a living, breathing part of him now, but he didn’t have to inflict it on her. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the ceiling.

  “The notes were sitting there on the counter in plain sight. And yeah, I read them. What difference does it make? It’s not like anyone ever thought you were going to stay, including you.”

  He’d been foolish enough, for a little while, to hope she’d stay. It had always been a pipe dream to think he’d be reason enough, and he knew it. That didn’t make it hurt any less to see her go.

  “But, Luke, I’m not...”

  “Don’t.” It was his own damn fault for thinking he could hold her forever. He shook his head. “It’s okay. You always said you were leaving. And that’s for the best, don’t you think?” He tried again to smile, then gave up, glancing at his watch. “Helen doesn’t give orders often, and she’ll hound us if we don’t grab some dinner. I know I’m probably the last guy you want to be with right now, but we both have to eat. I’ll pick you up at the house in a half hour.” He started to turn away, then stopped. “For Helen’s sake, let’s get through this as peacefully as we can. She wants us to be team players, and that’s what she’ll see, okay?”

  He headed for the stairs, feeling beaten. Her soft, sad laughter stopped him cold. He turned to see tears shimmering in her eyes. He got it. Goodbyes hurt, even when you knew they were coming. She walked over to him, her scent wrapping around him again like a warm blanket. Christ, he was going to miss this woman.

  “You accused me of already making my mind up about you when I found the rainy-day fund. Now you’re doing the same exact thing, Luke.” She raised a finger to point at his face, and he noticed she was trembling. Her eyes narrowed at him. “You’ve already
decided you know my heart, but trust me—you don’t. This conversation isn’t over.”

  * * *

  WHEN THEY GOT to the restaurant an hour later, Whitney slammed her car door a bit harder than she’d intended. She lifted her hands in defense when Luke looked back.

  “I didn’t mean to do that. Honest.”

  “You okay?”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Oh, yeah. Definitely okay. Couldn’t be okay-er.”

  He waited for her to catch up, then walked on without touching her. He did stop to hold the door to the Marina Bay Bistro open for her. She gave him a bright smile and thanked him. She’d thought if she pretended long enough that everything really was fine between them, it would come true. Fake it till you make it, right? But after the week she’d had and the confrontation in the tasting room today, her faking-it button wasn’t working very well.

  Her mind was in freefall. Luke had heard her talking to the recruiter about the job in Dallas. Sure, she’d asked them to email more details, but she wasn’t seriously interested. How could Luke think she’d accept a job in Texas without even discussing it with him? She knew the answer to that. Luke figured everyone lived their lives without considering him. The realization made her both sad and angry. He should have known she was different. Before she’d doubted him over that damned bank account, he would have known.

  They sat by the windows, opting for an indoor table to avoid the heavy clouds moving in from the west. He held her chair, then sat across from her, and they silently watched a large cruiser pull into the docks. Marina staff scurried to grab and secure the lines. The waitress made both of them jump when she set their water glasses on the white tablecloth and delivered their menus.

  This was supposed to be a relaxing night out, per Helen’s orders. A chance to heal whatever was broken between them. But neither of them were at all relaxed as they read the menus. She hated this. Hated the hurt she saw in Luke’s eyes. Hated the thought she’d somehow managed to destroy any chances of fixing things. She couldn’t give up. Not yet. She pasted on her biggest, happiest smile.

  “Wow, everything looks good! I haven’t been here before. The lemon pepper haddock sounds amazing. I know you’re a steak guy—are you thinking the prime rib?”

  “Whitney...stop.” He set his menu down, frowning at it before looking up at her. “Give the ‘happy’ routine a rest, okay?”

  She managed to keep her smile in place, but it trembled a little.

  “You don’t want me to be happy?”

  He leveled his eyes at her, not saying a word. She cleared her throat and blinked away from that look that told her he was retreating to a point where she might never reach him. She absently rearranged the silverware in front of her, then moved her water glass and wiped the water ring it had left. Fix this! Her vision blurred with tears. She didn’t know how, other than to tell him what was in her heart.

  “I just want to help you feel better about things. About us. I want to feel better about things. This tension isn’t good for either of us, or for our relationship.”

  The waitress stopped at the table with a bottle of Chianti, and they placed their meal orders. Luke stared out the window after that, his chin rigid under his beard. Sadness hung over their table like a cloud. She gave it another try.

  “Things were good with us.” So good that she’d fallen in love with him. “I get it. I hurt you with what I said about the money. I’m sorry. Are you really not going to forgive me?”

  “It’s fine.” His lips barely moved as he spoke, and he was still staring out at the boats.

  Her wine glass hit the table so hard, some of the wine sloshed out and splashed her fingers. Luke’s right brow arched.

  “Let me guess—you accidentally slammed your glass, too.”

  She sucked in a breath through her teeth, reminding herself they were in a public place and she couldn’t scream, no matter how tempting it might be.

  “No. I did that on purpose. And you know damn well you are not fine.” She leaned forward, her voice low but sharp. “Nothing about us is fine right now, and I seem to be the only one trying to fix it!”

  “Running away is a funny way of fixing things.”

  “I’m not running anywhere, you idiot!” She couldn’t if she wanted to. Not without him.

  They glared at each other for a moment, and Luke was the first one to blink away. “Like Helen said, we’re both tired. It’ll be—”

  “I swear to god, if you say the word fine one more time,” she hissed, “I will break this fucking wine bottle over your head!”

  Luke scowled, then gave a harsh laugh. “You’ve been hanging around me too long. You’re starting to sound like a Rutledge.”

  “Seriously? The Rutledge thing again? Don’t you think it’s time to leave that behind?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t have that luxury, Whit. It’s my goddamn name. It’s who I am.”

  She waggled her forefinger back and forth. “No. Those two statements don’t automatically go together. It is your name, but you can decide how much of its baggage you’re going to carry. You’ve opted to carry it all.”

  Their food was delivered, and they ate in sullen silence. Outside, the rain that had been threatening finally arrived. It swept across the docks and restaurant deck, sending people scurrying for cover. A rumble of distant thunder rattled the windows. The gloominess of it all matched the mood at their table. Her fork clattered when it hit the edge of her plate. Luke glanced at the fork, avoiding her eyes until she spoke.

  “That one was accidental.”

  He nodded solemnly, then set his own fork down and stared at her. Was he finally going to open up?

  “Are you guys interested in dessert?” Their waitress still hadn’t managed to pick up on the tension at the table. Whitney and Luke both shook their heads. “Okay, then! I’ll get your check!”

  The restaurant was quiet tonight, but the bar was filling up with a noisy Friday night crowd. It was a mix of jeans-and-T-shirt locals and chino-and-polo-shirt tourists. Funny how she could see that after just two months here. How she identified with the locals, not the outsiders. Evie and Mark walked in, hand in hand. Evie was laughing, reaching up to push a strand of bright blue hair behind her ear. Mark leaned over and kissed her. Whitney smiled. Looked like Evie was going to get that happy ending she hadn’t believed in.

  “If that number you scratched down is your starting pay, you’ll be sitting pretty.”

  She blinked back to Luke. “What?”

  “The job? In Texas? Big bucks. Sounds perfect.”

  “Yeah. Perfect.” She shook her head. “Luke, did you really think I’d accept a job without talking to you? To Helen?”

  His jaw was tense, despite his Joe-Cool act. “We both knew we were temporary.”

  “Did we?”

  Had it always been temporary to him? No. She didn’t believe it. Not after the nights she’d spent in his arms. Nothing felt temporary about that. She couldn’t have misread him so badly. She knew in her heart he had feelings for her. Maybe not love, but there was something there.

  “Look, we had fun.” His eyes hit her hard and hot. “A lot of fun. But your real life isn’t in Rendezvous Falls. It’s in a corporate office somewhere, where you can crunch numbers on a computer and boss people around. You don’t belong someplace where audits are done on the dining room table and things don’t happen the way you ordain them.”

  “And where do you belong, Luke?”

  His eyes went wide. “Right where I am.”

  Her heart clenched. He was right. He did belong here. But why couldn’t he see what was right in front of him? She reached for his hand.

  “And what if I belong wherever you are?”

  He leaned forward, his eyes dark and shining. He started to say something, but here came their Perky Patty waitress again with her disastrous timing.
/>   “Okay, here’s the check. No hurry, guys.”

  Luke sat back and tossed his credit card on the table. The waitress snatched it up.

  “I’ll be right back!”

  His walls were up again, and he fixed Whitney with a hard look. “You don’t belong here. I was your summer fling on the vineyard. But summer’s over.”

  Her hurt battled with her fury, and fury won. She almost came across the table at him, and he sat up straight as if he knew it. Her voice was low but sharp enough to carry. “How dare you make me sound like some heartsick teenager having a crush at summer camp! I’m a grown-ass woman, and I’ll decide where I belong—”

  “Okay!” Perky Patty was back. “The top receipt is ours, the other two are yours, and here’s your credit card. Anything else I can do for you?”

  Whitney dropped her head, letting her hair hide the tears on her face. Luke signed the receipt and tucked the card in his wallet. She brushed the back of her hand across her face, but not quickly or efficiently enough.

  “Christ,” Luke muttered. “Don’t cry. Come on, let’s go.”

  “This isn’t over. We’re not done talking.”

  “We are for now.”

  She didn’t trust herself to answer. They couldn’t be over. She wouldn’t let that happen. The rain was still coming down hard, so he gestured toward the bar entrance, which would give them the shortest walk to his truck. She kept her head down, wiping her face again and hoping no one would...