by Dani McLean
“Benefits of being a celebrity?”
“There are perks. What can I say?”
She hopped off the stool and started looking through the cabinet. I genuinely hoped that there was something decent, considering I’d never learned anything about wine and couldn’t remember the last time I looked in there.
“Oh, wow, you have a bottle of Grange in here. Did someone really gift you this?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I can’t remember who I got that from. Is it meant to be good?”
“Is it …” She looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Jace, this bottle is worth over $1000. I damn well hope it’s good.”
I shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
There was an incredulous snort before she carefully put the bottle back, finding something more suitable. “Ok, firstly, no. We’re not popping a bottle of Grange for no reason. That is the kind of wine you save for your twentieth wedding anniversary, not a random Tuesday night.” She returned, placing a bottle of rosé on the counter. “Secondly, you don’t pair a red that strong with a cream-based pasta. It would completely overpower the food.”
I forgot the food and pulled her into my arms, turned on by her wine knowledge. “Ok, well, firstly, that was hot.” I paused to kiss her. “Secondly, I think a random Tuesday night is the perfect excuse for any kind of wine. And thirdly, you’re very sexy when you’re wine pairing.”
She playfully swatted my chest but didn’t make a move to go anywhere. “You mentioned.”
I allowed myself one more kiss before I reluctantly turned back to the counter, cooking the guanciale. “Do you have to know that for work?”
“Not anymore. Years ago, I worked as a sommelier at this Michelin star farm-to-table restaurant near the loop. The pay sucked, and the owner was an ass, but I loved learning more about wines and food.”
“How did you get from that to what you’re doing now?”
“I told you how I worked at Empire before Bespoke, right?” I nodded, and she continued, “Well, the wine rep who sold to the restaurant worked there. He made it sound really interesting, lots of stories about traveling around, meeting and learning from the winemakers themselves, and being able to market the wines for these passionate makers to bars and restaurants around the country. It sounded like an adventure. One I wanted in on.”
While I mixed the egg yolks and cheeses in preparation, she maneuvered behind me to pull out a large serving bowl from the cupboard. I watched as she filled it with water and then added ice. When I cocked a brow in question, she replied, “It cools the wine quickly,” while placing the wine in the ice bath.
Damn, she was impressive. “That’s where you met David, wasn’t it?” I asked, piecing together snippets from other conversations we’d had. This was the most she’d talked about her past, and I didn’t want her to stop.
“Yep. He helped me work my way up from research grunt to senior regional sales manager. I wouldn’t be half as good at my job if it weren’t for his help.”
“Sounds like a great boss.”
Her grin widened. “He really is. I still can’t believe he asked me to go with him to Bespoke, but I’m so thankful he did.” Now that the ingredients were ready, I started to boil the water for the pasta, and I took advantage of the fact that I didn’t have anything pressing to do right now to touch her again.
I moved away from the stove to where she’d been leaning and watching me and crowded her against the counter, her body fitting against mine perfectly.
She stretched up for a kiss, but I wanted to hear more about her life. I ducked playfully away from her lips and asked, “What made you want to go with him?”
Her chest rose and fell with a sigh. “I learned so much working at Empire, but they cared more about money and markups and profit than the people or wine itself. I’d literally hear my co-workers creating bullshit lies just to add an extra zero to the bottle price. It was soul-sucking.” Her hands found their way into my hair as she spoke, absentmindedly scratching my scalp, sending tremors through me. “David felt the same. The whole point of Bespoke is that we focus on something authentic—celebrating local creators and local businesses. He said it didn’t matter that I’d never sold spirits before, and I trusted him to know what he was doing.”
I was completely captivated.
The water boiled, pulling me away, but the great thing about carbonara was how quick it was to throw together.
While I pulled together the pasta, Audrey opened the now chilled wine and poured us both a glass. Having never been much of a wine drinker, I was skeptical but trusted her judgment. If pressed, I would pick a red over anything else, but I was surprised to find I enjoyed it. It was crisp, clean, and a little sweet.
Audrey took the wine, complete with its ice bath, to the table, then came back to get the glasses while I served dinner, and when her eyes lit up at the sight of the meal, I knew without a doubt that I wanted to be the person to evoke that lightness in her for as long as I could.
Because Olivia was right, when you found someone who made you feel the way I felt when I was with Audrey, you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.
24
Audrey
As I’d hoped, the wine paired excellently with the pasta, smooth enough to compliment the sharpness of the parmesan but with a soft sweetness that offset the smoky flavor of the meat. I’d never had guanciale before, but I already knew that all other pastas had been ruined for me. Maybe all other food.
And wasn’t that surprise number two of the evening.
To say I hadn’t expected a home-cooked meal would have been a massive understatement. To say I hadn’t expected a full-blown candlelight dinner would have been … the crowning prince of understatements. Or something like that. I had officially lost all ability to think straight when I spotted the makeshift vase of tulips on the table.
Brad had never once given me flowers in ten years. And I guess, technically, Jackson hadn’t given me any either, but the fact that he’d gone to the effort of getting them, of arranging the table and cooking me dinner … It was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me.
It had become laughingly obvious that this relationship had moved decidedly on from casual to serious and that I wasn’t alone in feeling, and wanting, more.
Damnit, I could hear Tiff laughing from here.
As we ate, I was completely overwhelmed with how sweet Jackson was. That he had done all of this for me. And so I sat there, studying him like he was the answer to the big mystery of my life. Maybe he was.
Jackson was able to look wise beyond his years. It was those eyes—endless pools of shimmering sapphire. And yet, when he smiled, really smiled, he was youth eternal, boyish. It hadn’t surprised me to learn that his fans were split between two camps; those who favored the broody, muscular, scruffy him and those that preferred the clean-shaven, mirthful, playful him. Honestly, I didn’t know how anyone picked between them. He was both. And more.
The words I wanted to say were so heavy in my mouth that I was sure they would tumble into a pile on the table if I let them.
This whole thing had started because I took a crazy chance. What was one more?
“I think I’m—”
Jackson spoke at the same time. “Come to Sarah’s wedding with me.”
I latched on to the statement, relieved to have a pause in my own admission. “Wait, really?”
“Yes. I want you there. I …” His jaw momentarily clenched before he shook it off, making a decision. “I’m crazy about you; you have to know that.”
While I had begun to suspect, to hope, hearing it was like an adrenaline shot to my heart. So much so that I didn’t know whether to laugh or dance or crawl into his lap and kiss him until we were both breathless. Probably a combination of all three.
“I feel the same way. I’ve never felt like this before.” And I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t, but that same worried edge bled into my voice, the same one Tiff had heard the other day, a
nd Jackson, sweet, observant Jackson, heard it, too.
“Audrey?”
Ugh. Why was this so damn hard?
I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t know if I was any more ready for a relationship than when we’d first met, but I also didn’t want to walk away. And I had no idea how to navigate that.
I was torn. I liked him. I more than liked him. I thought about him all the time. Either remembering what we’d done together or imagining the things I wanted us to do. And ok, this whole thing had started with sex and was meant to only be about sex, but I couldn’t deny how easy he was to talk to or how relaxed I felt when I was with him.
But I didn’t know if it was enough.
“It’s just …” It killed me to see the disappointment in his eyes, but I needed to be honest with him. “I want you. I want to be with you. I just … I can’t lose myself again.”
I’d become a ghost when I was with Brad, or maybe it was more accurate to say I was a shadow of myself. I still worked, ate, slept, but it was out of habit. If we went out, it was always together. Brad’s friends became my friends, and my friends—aka Tiff—were tolerated on occasion. We watched the things Brad liked to watch and did the things Brad liked to do. No matter my interest.
After he’d left, I’d felt stripped of all the little markers of what I’d come to know of myself. It was like having to find my personality again. My voice.
And now that I had it, you’d have to pry it from my cold dead hands before I gave it up again.
Not that Jackson was like that. At least, not from what I’d seen so far.
But how did I know that being part of an “us” wouldn’t rob me of me?
He pushed away from the table and came close, laying a gentle hand on mine where it had been toying with the material of my skirt. I twisted my hand so that our hands were linked and met his eyes, his deep blues stormy with concern.
“What if it’s just lust? What if there’s nothing more than sex between us?”
“Do you really believe that?”
”No, of course not.” And damn, if his kindness didn’t make me want to disappear into him right now. “Although the sex is pretty good.” I hoped a joke would help shift the thick cloud of emotion in the air, although the delivery fell flat.
To his credit, Jackson managed a small smile, but he didn’t let the topic go. He really was too good. “What’s wrong? Come on, talk to me.”
I let out a reluctant laugh, the force of the conflicting emotions within me forcing it from my lungs. “I can’t promise you I’ll be very good at this.”
“And you think I can?” he joked before looking at me very seriously, considering his next words. ”I know you don’t like talking about what happened with your ex, but you know you can talk to me. I want to hear it.”
“I know. I want to tell you. I’m so sick of being afraid of opening up again. I just, I know that sounds ridiculous—”
“Hey,” he stopped me. “It doesn’t. At all. I don’t need you to be anything, or anyone, other than yourself.”
He brought our hands up to his lips, kissing my knuckles. My lip curled into a responding smile before I could stop it. He just had this way of making me feel safe and cared for.
I realized he was waiting, giving me the time to think this over, and wow, had anyone ever really done that for me before? Just … trusted me to work things over in my mind instead of demanding an answer?
Damn, he really was wonderful. And gentle. And thoughtful. Goosebumps rippled across my shoulder, hip, arm, and stomach like a series of fireworks setting across my skin.
I was so head over heels for this man.
And with an imperceptible shift, the sinking in my gut rose, bubbling to the surface as happiness and filling my chest with a joy I didn’t think I could contain. The fears weren’t gone, but I was practiced enough to put them aside for now.
“Ok,” I said, and I couldn’t even begin to school my face into something other than outright joy right now. “I’ll date you, but I have a couple of conditions.”
I was relieved to see his expression lighten. “Conditions? I’m sensing a theme with you and these arrangements.” I poked his ribs. “Ok, ok. What are these conditions?”
“I still want to be able to come over late at night for sex.”
“Oh, is that all?” He laughed.
“And I want to still have time by myself. I don’t suddenly want to spend all our time together. Sometimes I want to go out with Tiff. Or have a night in alone.”
“Anything else?”
“And I’m not ready for the public yet, is that ok?”
“How public are we talking? Because as nice as my apartment is, it would be nice to go out sometime.”
“Of course! I was talking more like events and things. Not that I’m expecting you to take me on the red carpet or anything. Or that that’s even a thing you would want to do,” I was rambling. “I honestly don’t know what dating an actor even entails, but anything with press kind of scares me a little.”
He chuckled, and I buried my face in my hands, trying to shake off my embarrassment, “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”
He reached over, caressing my cheek with his thumb before leaning in, lips meeting mine softly, slowly, just for a moment before he pulled back, smiling. “A little, but it’s adorable.”
My groan was diluted by the smile that overtook my face. I leaned in to kiss his cheek softly. “And yes, I’ll be your date for Sarah’s wedding.”
Did I feel like I was on that part of a rollercoaster where you’re slowly chugging upwards, heart beating rapidly with the knowledge that in just a moment, the world would fall away beneath you? Sure.
But maybe I wanted to be a little crazy. A little reckless. Maybe I wanted to not think about what could go wrong, or even what could go right, but instead, just put on a beautiful dress and go to the wedding of the sister of the guy I was falling for.
“Wait. What’s the dress code? Should I bring a gift? Which hotel is it again?”
Dinner now forgotten, Jackson stood up, hand still in mine, and moved us over to the couch as he spoke. “It’s at the Athletic hotel. I thought we could go up Friday night and get some time together before the wedding. For everything else, I think the invite is on the counter, or I can just give Sarah your number and have her text you everything you want to know.”
He laid down first, pulling me until I was sprawled on top of him, and despite the slightly awkward positioning, it was the most comfortable I’d felt all day.
I let out a deep breath, which became a sigh as he brushed the hair away from my neck to start kissing there. I turned my head to give him more access.
He continued between kisses, his voice rough. “There was something else I wanted to do tonight.”
“Oh?” I was quickly losing focus, and I knew I was close to letting him have whatever he wanted.
“Mmm.”
Fingers dipped under my shirt, stretching the material until the knot came undone, his hands now free to explore underneath.
His exploration continued down, rounding my hips and cupping my ass.
Knowing what he would find there, I bit back a smirk, anticipating the moment he felt it and having the pleasure of seeing the exact moment he did. Confusion, then curiosity flashed across his face, his fingers now working deftly to remove my skirt so he could get a better look.
“You weren’t wrong about wearing something special, damn.” His fingers traced along the edge of the lace against my hip, following it down to where the small string of pearls began. I had never worn open underwear before and never even knew that they existed, but once I’d seen them online, well, it was the fastest I’d ever purchased anything. And boy, was it worth it for how sexy I felt right now. “Is this what you wear to work every day?”
“Are you kidding me? They’re great, but I hardly think I’d get any work done.”
“Too distracting?”
“Too uncomfortable.” I laughed.
“If I’m going to get this launch right, I need all my wits about me. I can’t be spending ten hours running to the bathroom every few minutes to unpick a pearl wedgie.”
His head tipped back as he laughed. “Point taken. How is the launch coming?”
“Good, I think. I’ve never been more stressed about anything before, but I wouldn’t give it up, you know? It feels so good to be in charge of my own life finally. And I want to make David proud. I really want this to go well.”
“It’s going to be great.”
“Thanks. I just want it to be special. Did I tell you that one of the founders used to be a carpenter? He made all kinds of furniture and one-off pieces, then got commissioned to start making oak barrels for a local whiskey distillery. He made more on those barrels than he did on his other pieces but still kept up the side stuff because he loved it so much. Then his friend, the one making whiskey, was talking to him about getting into the whiskey business and mentioned that they needed to sell the barrels after they aged the liquor because the law states you can only age whiskey in new oak, right? Well, Jeff sees an opportunity. He buys back his own barrels after they’ve used them, at a pretty good rate, and starts making rum instead, using the second-hand barrels to age the rum, and he basically makes a profit twice over.”
“Once on the barrels, then on the rum. Smart man.”
“Isn’t he! It’s why I love what we do so much. Being able to support local businesses, but more than that, being able to celebrate them, the people behind them, and their love for what they do … It’s so much more fulfilling than just making money.”
“You’re really cute when you’re protecting the little man.”
I buried my smile into his chest, leaning into the warmth of his arms, stupidly content just to stay here forever.
“So I had an interesting call today. From Addison Michaels.” I couldn’t see his face, but he sounded happy, so I could only assume it was good news.
“That’s the writer of the movie you wanted, right?”
“And director. He, uh, he called to offer me the role.”
