St. Helena Vineyard Series: St.Helena Santa (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Family Ties Book 2)
Page 7
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lilly
Something wet and wiggly rubbed against her face. Lilly opened her eyes and found him staring at her, wagging his tail excitedly. “What’s up, Brodie?” Lilly grinned, stretching her arms above her head and searching for Brett. He’d left the nightlight on for her, which was wonderful, since it was still dark outside.
When she pulled the bedspread around her and got out of bed, Brodie rushed to the door. Lilly followed him, avoiding her dress on the floor. Her bra and panties lay strewn just outside the door. She had no idea how they ended up there. Brodie raced back to her. “I’m coming, sweetheart, I’m coming. And, boy, did I.”
With his back to her and his tight round buns in low-slung jeans, Brett rattled around the stove while Brodie bounced near his legs. Apparently, he was too preoccupied to notice her.
“Boo!”
Brett jumped, and something about the way he gripped the spatula made her bust out laughing. It probably wasn’t the most romantic thing to do after a night of lovemaking, but Lilly couldn’t contain herself.
“Fun-neee.” Brett tossed the spatula on the counter and, with a spark in his eyes, came after her. He caught her before she could run, and picked her up in bear hug. “Did you sleep well?” He kissed her behind the ear, sending a round of shivers trickling down her spine. “You seemed pretty relaxed by four…” He sucked the curve between her neck and shoulders.
“Let’s just say you put out my fire,” she said against his smooth, cool cheek. “Hmm. You shaved…”
Brett put her down, and she circled his waist with her arms. “I wish we could stay here all day.”
“Day? We could lock the doors, send out for food occasionally, and stay for months.”
“The grannies…and the fair, though...” She glimpsed at the clock. “It’s six, they’ve been up for a while…”
“I know.” His words trailed off. “So we’ll have a little breakfast, and I’ll run you over, okay?”
“In my red dress and stilettos…?” Pouting, Lilly flicked her eyes to the ceiling. “Think they’ll notice?” She laughed.
“It’ll be fine.” He brushed the hair back from her forehead. “More than fine.”
Brett offered to come into the house with her, but she refused to put him through whatever grilling ChiChi and Cha-Cha had in store for her. Dressed in baggy shorts, size thirteen flip-flops, and a sweatshirt hanging past her knees, Lilly waved at him where he was parked at the curb. She shoved the key into the lock, and opened the door. After giving Brett another wave, she stepped inside.
Surprisingly, the odor coming from the kitchen wasn’t overwhelming. Maybe they aren’t home? She sheepishly made her way past the kitchen and headed directly to her bedroom.
“Good morning, Lilly,” her grandmother called out from the kitchen, and Lilly paused mid-step with a flip-flop in the air.
“How was your evening, Lilly?” ChiChi’s voice came down the hall.
“Ahhh…good morning.” Lilly quickened her pace, stumbling in the gargantuan thongs. “I had a great night. Everything’s fine…” she said before walking into her room and closing the door. Made it.
After taking a shower while relishing memories of every exquisite moment of Brett’s exceptionally knowing touch, Lilly dressed for the day. Before heading into a potential battlefield in the kitchen, she mentally prepared herself for whatever grenades the nosy grannies would throw at her.
Cha-Cha and ChiChi weren’t afraid to use any emotion at their disposal to get their way, or ferret out the information they desired. Over the years she’d seen them in action. They purchased her own brother at an auction to force him into dancing the tango in front of the whole town. Poor Jake was the laughingstock of Twitter for months. Their shenanigans did have a bright side, though, because Scarlett became his permanent dance partner.
Lilly opened the bedroom door and marched down the hall. Be ready. ChiChi and Cha-Cha were known to use guilt, their age, their potential demise due to age and stress, loss of sanity, and fear of public humiliation as weapons.
“Good morning,” she said to the cabinet while she pulled out a mug. Without checking to see if the grannies were in the room, Lilly kept her back to the kitchen island and poured a cup.
“There is nothing to be embarrassed about, darling.”
Lilly stilled and waited for her nonna to say something more. After waiting another beat, she turned.
“We rescued you two from a dark closet, dear,” ChiChi explained.
“You don’t think we bought that cockamamie story about checking supplies, do you?’ Cha-Cha pointed to Lilly’s coffee mug. “Now drink up, we’re going to be late.”
A rush of heady bliss, bright, bright sunlight, and giddiness struck when Lilly walked past Brett’s car. Memories of the back seat and last night made her break into a smile when she entered the barn. Scanning past the Christmas trees, the wreaths, and table after table, she searched the perimeter for him. Bingo.
The St. Paws Crafts, Bake Sale, and More didn’t open until eight, but a small crowd with a woman holding a microphone surrounded him. Grinning, Lilly kept a low profile, quickly tucking behind his row of tables. Brett stood seven tables down. Staying near the wall, with her heart racing when she approached him, Lilly reached out, pinched his butt, and kept walking.
She looked over her shoulder to check his reaction and found him pointing at her. He mouthed, “I’m going to get you,” and laughed.
With the gathering around him, and a reporter probably waiting for an interview, she counted on Brett not being able to leave his table.
With a few minutes to kill, Lilly headed outside to check the Santa Paws photo shoot area. The photographer was still setting up, but the weather was holding. With the crackling blue sky above and vibrantly colored leaves practically floating on the grapevines, today’s photos would be spectacular.
Satisfied, she traipsed through the barn, throwing another smile at Brett, and headed to her row of tables on the opposite side of the room. ChiChi and Cha-Cha were already unpacking, and she helped them set out the rest of the fruitcakes.
“Do we really need this sample plate, Nonna?” Lilly asked, hoping to hide the nasty bits from potential customers.
“Don’t you think they’d enjoy a taste before buying?” Lilly’s brain went directly to her trunk full of fruitcakes.
“Not really. I think St. Paws is losing money because of it.” Let that sit for a while. Wasting money was Nonna’s kryptonite.
“You do?” Cha-Cha dramatically lifted her caftan-covered arm and rubbed her chin. “Are you sure?” She frowned.
“Absolutely. It’s like that saying, ‘why buy the milk when you can get the cow for free?’ Same goes for fruitcake.”
Cha-Cha grabbed the plate and shoved it under the table. “I knew there was a reason I asked you to help.” She pinched Lilly’s cheek. “Are you set here?”
“Go, Nonna. Go visit with your friends or have some coffee with Auntie. I can handle this.”
“I think I will, darling.” Cha-Cha grabbed her purse. “Thank you.” She waved before taking off for the foxy posse stationed in the corner. By the look of the body language and the angle of the blue-haired head-tilts, ChiChi and her friend Pricilla were already stirring up trouble.
Customers started trickling in at eight, and by nine the barn was full of patrons. Lilly bent down to grab an apron when something grabbed her butt. She swung around.
“Payback, baby,” Brett teased, coming in close and kissing her on the lips, and kissing, and kissing. Her knees buckled, but Brett held her tight. “I miss you. I’m right across the room, and I’m missing you.”
She couldn’t contain her grin. “I know. It’s crazy, right?” Lilly kissed him again.
“Can you come over tonight?”
“I can’t. Believe me, I’d much rather be with you, but I promised ChiChi I’d help with her bridge group Christmas party tonight. She’s holding it at the house.”
She shook her head. “Nope. No boys allowed. Those ladies get rowdy. And you,” she tucked a finger in the waistband of jeans, “Mr. July, could be accosted. Especially if Cha-Cha whips out that calendar.” Whoops.
“I knew it!” He laughed so loud, the people at the other booth looked over. “You saw it.”
“And may I tell you how happy I am you kept your pants on?”
“Are you saying you feel possessive over what’s in my pants?”
She hedged, not knowing how much she should say. Even though they spent the night together, they hadn’t really, technically, dated, other than two closets, one ladder fall, and a lunch.
She gauged his expression and tried to read his eyes. “What if I was…possessive? How would you feel about that?” Whoa, whoa, whoa, computer girl. You live in Silicon Valley.
Brett reached out and caressed her cheek with his fingers. She held her breath. Had she spoken too soon?
“It would make me a very happy man.”
Now she had no idea what to say. This relationship was moving like a flimsy raft over white water rapids, the only thing Lilly could do was white-knuckle it, pretend she knew what she was getting into, and enjoy the ride. “Well, then.” She tugged at his waistband. And rested her forehead on his chest. “No sharing.”
“No sharing,” he echoed, lifted her chin, and kissed her.
***
When the fair closed for the day, Lilly chuckled, privately giving herself a round of applause for accomplishing the impossible. She beat her all-time record of one, by selling two fruitcakes to a Shakespearean actor from Ashland Oregon. It took her thirty minutes to talk him into buying them, and, sure, she had to throw in a few chocolate-merlot truffles she bought for herself, but two sales were two sales. She prayed the customer wouldn’t taste his purchase until he crossed the border.
Brett drove her home, and they spent two hours parked in a vineyard on Big Ranch Road making out in the back seat. By the time Brett dropped her off at ChiChi’s house, Lilly was back on cloud nine.
The Bridge Group Christmas Party that evening turned into a G-rated strip poker shin-dig. Lilly had more laughs with the geriatric set than she’d had in months, and couldn’t get their blue-hair-don’t-care conga line chant out of her brain.
Sunday’s St. Paws Crafts, Bake Sale, and More flew by with record earnings, and she spent the night with Brett.
On Tuesday, when Brett didn’t return her text, Lilly’s cloud started to lose air. They hadn’t seen each other since early Monday morning, and when they said goodbye, everything seemed perfect. Lilly realized it was only two days, and kicked herself for being so worried, but still checked her phone constantly. She went to bed early, and finally managed to sleep by convincing herself a text would be waiting for her in the morning.
The second-guessing started on Wednesday when he didn’t return the texts she sent last night. She shouldn’t have brought up the no-sharing conversation at the fair on Saturday, and so early in the relationship. Lilly knew better. Even if they were exclusive, no one should throw down the gauntlet and make demands after one night and one lunch date.
Lilly stayed up until three-thirty in the morning, going through pictures of them on her phone. She didn’t have many, so she searched the internet for Brett Benning. After scanning a dozen photos of him and reading a few in-depth football articles, she wanted to kick her modem. She fell asleep fully clothed and crying.
Her doubts solidified when she woke up bawling her head off at noon on Thursday. Still. No. Word. She checked her phone again four minutes later, just to be sure. Did he know how much she cared for him? She re-read her last message with her thumb hovering over the keypad. She bit down on her lip summoning the courage to write what needed to be said, typed a few words and hit send.
She wished she had someone talk to. Lilly couldn’t discuss her love life with Jake. If she confessed she slept with Brett on Sunday and he never called her, Jake would probably punch him. Then Brett, being the macho football player he was, and the strong firefighter he is, would hit her brother, and Jake would end up in the hospital… And if Lilly blabbed to Scarlett, she’d tell Jake.
She couldn’t consult Cha-Cha and ChiChi about Brett, because they would be upset, and Lilly didn’t have the bandwidth to comfort them. Then they’d blame themselves for being such a poor judge of character, and she’d have to console them again.
Lilly threw in the towel at five o’clock in the afternoon, changed into her pajamas, and got in bed. She couldn’t sleep, and turned on the television for the first time since arriving in St. Helena. She saw the red highlighted scroll running at the bottom of the newscast and read it twice:
3,000 firefighters from five local agencies battle massive California fire.
She grabbed her phone off the bedside table. Ohmygod,ohmygod. You idiot! Lilly clicked to Twitter and hurriedly typed #StHelenaFireDept in the search bar.
At five thirty-seven her head imploded.
Brett is at the fire. You have been harassing him while he is fighting fires, dumbass.
She plopped her head back on the pillow, stared at the ceiling, and considered the ramifications of annoying a man like Brett Benning. And she had, with no doubt, annoyed him, because she was, in fact, annoying.
While he was busy putting his life on the line to save others, she had been texting and calling and being a selfish idiot. Even if he managed a spare second for a call, Lilly would be the last person on the list. Brett didn’t care for or need clingy women. He admitted as much to her at lunch when he said he was looking for a stable relationship. Keyword: stable.
Brett had complimented her on her new business, and made a point to mention he thought being smart and sexy was a lethal combination, and he was dead man.
He would not appreciate being pestered and having her throw himself at him with all that no sharing shit, and then topping it off with “I’m falling in love with you” in a text. And that was why he hadn’t returned any of her calls, and would never call her back
Holy hell. Lilly’s life ran on stability. Her clients counted on her when they were up a creek with their most personal information compromised. She thrived on being steady and able. Her ability to keep her cool under pressure was her greatest asset.
Yet when it came to Brett, she lost her ever-lovin’ mind. Instead of calmly assessing the situation like a rational person would do, she sent a panicked text. She even threw herself into granny-baking-land to get her mind off him.
On Tuesday, instead of turning on the news, or even calling the fire department to check on him, she chopped red and green sticky bits for ChiChi. Then, she plugged her nose and baked stinky fruitcakes, hoping the fumes would distract her.
She spent yesterday wrapping gifts, getting high on eggnog, and texting him.
Shit. Shit. Shit. After double checking her phone, and verifying that in her last text she had indeed written: I’m falling in love with you, Lilly turned off the phone. She got out of bed, went to the kitchen, got into the fruitcake rum, and two hours later fell asleep on the couch.
The next morning after re-reading all ten of her messages and trying to forget the five calls that went straight to voice mail, Lilly wanted to hurl.
Was she really that needy? Yes. After fifteen unanswered messages, she had confirmation. All systems tanked. Yes, she had officially become a pitiful Needy Girl. Which was exactly what she wasn’t. She didn’t need Brett. Lilly could take care of her own financial needs expertly. Thank you very much.
Her physical needs could be attended to by the battery-operated boyfriend who lived in her underwear drawer. No. Lilly didn’t need Brett.
She loved him. There’s a quantum leap between loving someone partially because he can provide financial security and loving someone for love’s sake alone.
Perhaps all those songs about being crazy in love were literally true, and her feelings for Brett obliterated her ability t
o think straight. She’d never been in love before, not like this.
And even though it was odd, and so not cool to just flat out admit you’re falling in love with someone after sleeping with him one time, Lilly was a little weird. Many in the tech industry were a little whacky. And she didn’t mind not being one of the cool girls. She’d much rather be a computer genius for her clients. What was a nerdy computer girl supposed to do in this situation?
Die, probably. That’s what will happen when he reads all those texts, if he hasn’t already…
Yes, Lilly would most likely meet her demise and headline every cable outlet. Trend on Twitter and have memes created about her. Lilly, the first woman to actually die of embarrassment. And maybe it’s what she deserved.
Lilly hit the nog. Hard. And three hours later, rebooted and decided she would recover. Granted, it would not be easy. But after the holidays were over, and she left St. Helena and got back to her work routine, she’d find another way to be happy. With a fantastic new business, money to spend, and a family who loved her, she had no reason to complain.
She’d acted like an imbecile and would accept the consequences. No Brett. Man of her dreams, gone.
Friday morning, she held back tears at breakfast. When Cha-Cha and ChiChi asked her what was wrong, she lied. She told them something horrible happened to a very close friend she would never see again. And in many ways, it was true.
***
Lilly had her daily meltdown when she woke up at six-thirty and remembered how Brett left his night light on for her. He told her he wanted her to feel safe with him.
Refusing to worry ChiChi and Cha-Cha again, she stayed in the shower until she pulled her idiot self together and put her big girl panties on. The most important person was Brett. And he was okay. Miraculously, there hadn’t been any injuries from the fire.
They arrived at the barn at seven thirty on Saturday. ChiChi and Cha-Cha buzzed with excitement in the car, and practically skipped to the barn in their orthopedics. The weekend would be their last fruitcake hurrah, and they expected to go out with a bang.