Crush

by Jen Doyle

  Knowing she had a long day ahead of her, she took her time getting showered and dressed. An hour later, she opened the window to let in the cool morning air and the scent of the grapes that clung to the air. Then she took a deep breath and called home. Home being her parents’—or, she supposed, now her mother’s—vineyards.

  “Lago Christa Vineyards.”

  “Hi, Mom,” she said.

  “Maggie!”

  They didn’t have a close relationship. Her mother had been Miss California, could rock a ballgown as well as her Carhartts and excelled in any social situation you could dream up. She’d also spent most of Maggie’s life playing trophy wife to Maggie’s father, a disapproving and exacting man. A man who had never even tried to cover up that he preferred Maggie’s brother, Drew—his jock-y, wildly popular son—to his math nerd of a daughter whose first love was prime numbers and who looked like a clown whenever she attempted anything more than mascara and lip gloss. And that was before she’d nearly burned half their crop of grapes when she was ten because one of the kids at school had said her father had money to burn and she’d been trying to figure out how that worked.

  Which, incidentally, was when she’d decided she’d better stick with math.

  For a long time Maggie had been sure she’d been adopted, in fact. All the way up through high school when Judy Bristow had told her all she needed to do was wear a really low cut shirt and the clerk in the records office at Town Hall would let her see her birth certificate. But knowing she wasn’t adopted was almost worse, however; it basically just meant her father didn’t like her all on her own.

  Maggie didn’t question her mother’s love for her, but she’d tiptoed around her parents for so many years that even now, several years after her father had died, she had a hard time feeling like she was welcome.

  “I’m in town through Monday,” she said. “Is it okay for me to drop by?”

  “Oh, Maggie.” Her mother sighed. “Of course you can drop by. Anytime. Drew had mentioned you’d be here for a few days. I….” There was an audible breath, then a rush of words. “I was thinking we could have breakfast together tomorrow. Just you and me.”

  “Really?” Maggie couldn’t quite hide the shock in her voice. She’d graduated Summa Cum Laude from Princeton. She’d helped build a company from the ground up and turned it into a Wall Street success story. But the moment she was in her mother’s presence she reverted back to the shy and awkward teenager who never quite measured up.

  Which was why she very specifically only came home to Santa Christa during Crush—it was almost impossible for anyone having, say, a winery, to steal away. “I…. Well….”

  “Please,” her mother said. Begged, almost. “I….” Her voice full of emotion, she added, “I miss you, Maggie. And with your father gone….”

  Maggie’s breath caught. Her father had died three years ago. He’d had a stroke during Maggie’s junior year of college and had been ill for years. Maggie wasn’t at all proud to say she mourned the idea of him rather than the man himself. But one thing she’d learned from him was to own up to the truth no matter how hard it might be. The truth, as she now knew, was that she hadn’t understood true loss until her uncle died.

  “I have to deal with Uncle J’s bookstore,” Maggie said.

  Also the truth. She just didn’t mention the time factor wasn’t as much of an issue as it might have been since she’d put her New York City townhouse on the market right after she’d turned in her resignation the week before. In a matter of weeks she’d be back in California and could fully deal with her uncle’s estate. But she hadn’t fully decided what would happen from there, so she was keeping the news to herself.

  “Honey,” her mother said, her voice clogged with emotion. “I know things weren’t… weren’t good for you when you were growing up. Please let me try to get this right.”

  Maggie cleared her throat as she sank down to the edge of the bed. She’d waited so long to hear her mother say those words that she’d given up hope. She cleared her throat. “I’ll, um, think about it. I have to go.”

  Quickly. Before she dissolved into tears.

  “Maggie.” Though her mother’s voice still wavered, she kept her composure, a beauty queen through and through. “I left the keys to the bookstore at the café next door. You can keep them for as long as you need.”

  When Maggie’s uncle had left the store to her, she’d expected some resistance from her mother and Drew. Her parents had always been bothered by how much time she spent at her uncle’s bookstore, her mother agreeing to drive her regularly only after she got herself over the mountain by taking the bus to Santa Rosa at all of nine years old—and without telling her parents. One eight-hour search-and-rescue effort later, her mother had relented. Maybe mentioning she was thinking about taking over the bookstore rather than selling it wouldn’t go over as badly as she thought.

  Now was not the time for that discussion, however.

  “Got it. Thanks, Mom. Bye.”

  She hung up the phone before her mother had a chance to say anything else. Looking down, she realized she’d grabbed hold of the pillow Alejandro had slept on and was clutching it to her, almost as if it alone could give her the strength she needed to get through the day. She took in a deep breath, her body heating at the scent of him.

  Which was not a good thing.

  Oh, God. She’d just smelled the pillow.

  She threw it on the bed, gathered up her things, and left the room.

  She had every intention of heading directly to Santa Rosa. Instead she found herself heading in the opposite direction, which just so happened to also be the way to get to the community college, i.e., where Alejandro worked. As she drove, she told herself there was no reason to it. It was a Saturday at the tail end of Crush. He didn’t teach on Saturdays—not that she’d ever looked up his teaching schedule for reasons other than for planning purposes, of course—and the road in front of the campus was packed with the cars of tourists heading from one Napa Valley vineyard to the next. No one in their right mind would be here today unless they had to be.

  Case in point, here she was, not in her right mind in the slightest.

  Maggie parked the car and looked up at the campus laid out in front of her. It was bigger than she’d remembered, having only been here a few times back when she was a kid. She hadn’t quite thought this part through. She hadn’t thought any of it through. Thinking, normally her strong suit, was not a good thing when it came to her and Alejandro. Because then she’d need to admit that very few things in her life made her as happy as the once per year, three-nights-in-a-row sex-fest with a man she knew next to nothing about. And there was something wrong with that.

  Very, very wrong.

  Especially because if they, say, moved their relationship into the daylight, it might mean actual talking about things. Things like how much she thought about him. Things that she was sure would freak him out entirely as she would no doubt be completely unable to finesse them. There was a reason she wore the sexiest lingerie she could find on these trips back home. The physical connection they had was off the charts; the second she attempted more than that would be the one in which it all came crashing down. Of that she was 97.632% sure. So it probably wasn’t surprising for her to still be sitting in her rental car and staring out the window twenty minutes later.

  She didn’t know what she was doing here. It was best to just let this visit go like all the rest and not have to confront the reality of what her moving back would mean. Since she was a hundred percent sure it would mean the end of their yearly Crush interlude, she wanted all that she could get. She had two nights left with him and the last thing she wanted to do was blow those.

  Determined to get herself back on the road before anyone saw her, she moved forward and was just about to put the car back into drive when there was a knock on the window. Nearly jumping out of her skin she turned and…nearly jumped out of her skin again, although this time it would have been to jump
right into his. Used to seeing him in the dusky light of the bar and the even dimmer light of her suite at the Buena Vista, Maggie was entirely unprepared for seeing him in the full light of the sun.

  Oh, sweet Jesus. No man should look like that.

  “Hi,” she said, even though he couldn’t hear her through the window.

  “Hi,” he said back, smiling as his lips formed the words.

  He took a step back, just far enough for her to open the door and get out, although she was still entirely unsure of what she was doing here and had no idea what to say. Although his smile didn’t falter, he seemed unsure as well, and he made no move towards her. Not unusual, she supposed. He never spoke to her at the Lakeside, either, nor she to him. In those first few years, she’d even wondered if he knew she was there—except he clearly did, because, without fail, he’d be in the back hallway when she was, and before she knew it he’d be kissing her and she’d be leaving her room key for him to grab and the cycle would begin again.

  It was impetuous and foolish and whenever she truly thought about it she wondered if there was some crazy spirit that possessed her whenever he was nearby. None of it made sense—and she was the queen of making sense. Practical and logical and utterly dull.

  Except when she was with him.

  She closed the car door behind her and leaned against it, putting her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “You look very….professorial.”

  His eyebrow quirked up. “That’s good, I guess. Since I’m a professor and all.”

  She ached to touch him; to run the tip of her finger underneath the messenger bag strap that ran across his chest. “None of my professors ever did to me what you do.”

  She didn’t mean to sound all breathy and Marilyn Monroe. If she’d meant it, she most likely would have sounded like she was in the middle of an asthma attack. But somehow the words came out husky and low.

  His eyes flaring with heat, he stepped up closer to her. His gaze dropped to her lips. “I’d hope not. There are rules against that.”

  That wasn’t what she’d meant, as she was sure he knew. With a laugh that may have been even more breathless, she said, “I do like my rules.”

  But rather than continue the conversation along those lines, he asked, “Why are you here, Magdalena?” His voice was so gruff she would have taken a step back if she could have. His eyes went cold. “To let me down easy? Tell me you don’t want to see me tonight?”

  She didn’t answer right away—couldn’t.

  She wasn’t proud of the relief flooding through her. She had to close her eyes as she registered the anger in his voice. Possibly, even, hurt. As if he wanted her as much as she wanted him—maybe even in the daylight, although she wasn’t quite ready to go there.

  She could actually feel the tension drain from her body. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here,” she answered, because although talking wasn’t exactly their thing, the words they did speak had always been open and honest. Sometimes, even, raw. “But it wasn’t to let you down.” Easy or otherwise. She’d do this until the end of time if he’d let her.

  Maggie looked up to see him smiling and shaking his head, but more in a What am I going to do with you? way versus a Hell, no, to you and the horse you rode in on.

  Not that there were any horses involved, of course.

  His reaction made her immeasurably happy. She knew she had no claim on him. She was well aware of that, in fact; very much so. It was just that sometimes she’d be working late and sitting in her office fifty floors up, and she’d look out over the city that never sleeps and wonder if Alejandro ever thought about her in the way that she thought about him. Then she’d tell herself, Probably not.

  But the fact he’d even asked made her all giddy inside. Giddy enough that she got up on her tiptoes, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and said, “See you tonight?”

  Though he seemed confused—which, okay, she couldn’t blame him—he folded his arms across his chest, allowed a small smile, and nodded as he stepped back enough for her to get back in her car. With a smile of her own she gave a little wave and headed on her way.

  4

  “What the hell was that?”

  Alejandro stared after Maggie as the car pulled out of the lot. Then he shook his head and muttered, “I have no idea.”

  He didn’t have to turn to see that the friends he’d spent the morning with had come up behind him. He could feel their surprise in the air around him as someone else said, “Better question—who was that?”

  How the hell was he supposed to answer? She tutored me in math for a year so I returned the favor and spent a weekend tutoring her in tongue. And now we fuck our brains out for three nights a year when she comes home for Crush.

  Thankfully, another of his buddies jumped in to answer, “I’m guessing that was the reason Alejandro was up at the butt crack of dawn and beating the hell out of the punching bag.”

  Well, yeah. After leaving Maggie’s bed, Alejandro had driven around aimlessly for a while before ending up at the campus gymnasium. They’d been there for an early morning soccer team practice and had invited him to join the coaches’ team in a scrimmage, deciding he was in just rough enough shape to give the college kids a run for their money. It had been exactly what he needed.

  He should have ended it last night. He needed something real in his life, not an arrangement that was, let’s face it, odd. Especially since it was one-sided. Having never fooled himself into thinking things he shouldn’t, Alejandro knew it couldn’t go on. Rationalizing even one more night of being with her was a fool’s game.

  Then again, he hadn’t had anything to do with her showing up here. She’d done that all on her own.

  Ignoring the increasingly suggestive comments from his friends, Alejandro grabbed the keys out of his gym bag and muttered, “I’ve got to go.”

  He probably shouldn’t have followed her. It wasn’t his business why she was heading away from her family’s winery rather than towards it, nor was it like he wanted to stalk her or anything, so he wasn’t sure why he took the right out of the campus instead of the left, just as she’d done.

  Hell, it was September. What was the point of living here if you never took in the scenery, right?

  They headed through Calistoga, and then into the mountains. With all the tourists it was pretty slow going, but it also meant there were enough cars for him to put a few between them. Which was…stalkery. No getting around that one, and yet here he was.

  Odds were she was heading to Santa Rosa, which was a perfectly respectable destination for him to claim. If she turned into one of the wineries along the way, well, he’d just head on into Santa Rosa anyway. There were plenty of errands he could run. And if it turned out she was headed to Santa Rosa, he could run into her. Maybe even ask her to have lunch—in a non-stalkery way. Hell, maybe that would be the best possible outcome. Hiding behind closed doors in Santa Christa was one thing—the gossip there flowed as freely as the wine. But if she balked at having lunch with an old friend she’d run into in Santa Rosa, then he’d certainly know where he stood whether he liked it or not.

  Fully engrossed in talking himself into this being not at all weird, he barely even registered the stores around them as she pulled into a parking lot in front of a café. Trying to decide whether to just drive on past or actually park in one of the spots in front of a sad-looking bookstore…

  Aw, fuck. The bookstore. Her uncle’s bookstore.

  It had to be.

  A horn beeped angrily and he realized he’d come to a stop in the middle of the road. And, thanks to that horn, Maggie looked up and directly at him. Her eyes narrowed as her cheeks flushed. The jig being entirely up, Alejandro turned into the lot and parked.

  By the time he got out, she’d crossed the lot. “Did you follow me here?”

  For lack of anything better to do, Alejandro took off his baseball cap and shifted it so that the bill was in the back. “Kind of?”

  Now her lips went into a straight
line.

  Right. Because she dealt in absolutes. Always had. “Yes. You went the wrong way when you left the campus. I was curious.” He leaned back against the truck and stuck his hands in his pockets. Despite her anger, there was sadness in her eyes and if his hands hadn’t been tucked away, he might have been tempted to draw her to him. He still had to ask, “Are you okay?”

  Her entire being seemed to take a hit at the words. Her eyes filled, her lips quivered, and her breath caught. She took a step back.

  Yeah, he didn’t know how to handle this either. But although he wasn’t nearly as black and white as she was, he also wasn’t one to keep his thoughts to himself. Not usually, at least. “I was sorry to hear about your uncle. I know you were close.”

  A tear escaped and she briskly wiped it. Then she looked away. “I wondered if I’d see you at the funeral.”

  Given the topic, it wouldn’t be in good taste to laugh, yet he felt it rumble through his chest. Did she seriously think he would have put her in that position? Sure, he hoped the words her father had said to him a long time ago had stayed between them and whatever hard feelings there might have been ended there. But he hadn’t been eager to test it out; not under those circumstances. “It wasn’t my place.”

  She brought her gaze back up to his, more thoughtful now than sad. She hesitated for a minute, and then asked, “And what exactly is your place?”

  That wasn’t even close to the answer he thought she’d give. Nor was he prepared to fully put himself out there. When it came to her, though, he was always a little off kilter. More gruffly than expected, he said, “I’m not entirely sure, but I sure like it when I’m somewhere close to you.”

  The expression on her face started out as pure surprise, and then settled into something…different. “Really,” she murmured, giving no hint as to whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Except then she came close enough to put her hand on his chest, and look up at him. It took everything he had not to haul her up against him in an entirely not-for-out-in-the-open kiss. It didn’t help at all when she gave him a completely-out-in-the-open assessing look—and then turned and walked away. “I’ll be right back.”