by MK Meredith
Words had their place. But when it came to this community, Parker would have to feel it.
Pulling in a breath, she let go of every argument she’d prepared for the day, and pulled him toward the soon-to-be party. The feel of his large hand in hers was startling. Her palm was curiously sensitive to the calluses that ran along the top and her fingers twitched with the need to rub against his skin. Pull yourself together, woman. She released him before she embarrassed herself.
The large, open lawn was polka-dotted with round tables rented from the fire station. The navy cloth napkins stood out against the white tablecloths and were placed around centerpieces of grape bunches twined with ivy leaves. Frankie was setting up a cheese tray at one of the many tasting booths that ran the perimeter of the park, and Nate and his brothers were unloading boxes of wine. Sage rubbed her hands. This was one of her favorite events.
Mittens and a new alpaca Sage didn’t recognize were both dressed in rose-bedazzled collars and tied next to a Sorrento Ranch branded metal trough. True to form, it looked as though Mittens was working steadily on the knot of the rope.
Frankie spotted them walking up and pulled Nate along beside her. “Welcome.” Ignoring Parker, she looked pointedly at Sage and pulled her in for a hug.
Finally, she spared Mr. L.A. a glance, then she flicked her hand at belt level, the reflection of the late morning sun glinting off a cheese knife this time. “Just so you don’t forget.”
Nate groaned and grabbed it out of his wife’s hand. “Leave the poor guy alone. He’s just doing his job.”
“You’re lucky you grabbed the blade or you’d be next,” Frankie threatened Nate, with her hands on her hips
He yanked her up against his body. “The only thing you’re going to be cutting me with is that sharp-ass mouth of yours.” And before she could answer, he swooped in for a kiss.
Sage swore if someone opened her chest in that moment, hundreds of little hearts would float out in a love-drunk waltz. It might be crazy, most would definitely say corny, but she just couldn’t help it. This is what she was looking for.
Someday, anyway. She pulled in a breath, then forced a smile on Parker. “See? Family.”
The look on his face screamed get me the hell out of here, but he didn’t resist as she grabbed his hand. This time, he even gripped her hand a bit tighter, making goosebumps shoot up her arm any time his fingers moved against her skin. She was hopeless. “Let’s go check out the tasting booths and see what else is going on. They’re just about set up, and as soon as noon rolls around, this park will be shoulder to shoulder, St. Helena style.”
“God help me,” he mumbled.
Sage heard him but chose to ignore it. Not everyone appreciated how amazing small town living could be. Heck, she’d resisted it herself for a long time. But carving out her own space in the city was like trying to find room in a sardine can.
And the dating. She shuddered. Out of sheer desperation, she’d tried one of those speed dating lunches. The first guy asked her bra size, the second guy asked if she was into open relationships, and the third guy wanted to know if she had any brothers. She was about as successful at dating as Frankie was at keeping her alpaca, Mittens, on a leash.
“Look out!”
Sage grabbed Parker, and a look of pure horror crossed his face as the devil himself barreled down on them with hooves, protruding bottom teeth, and big puffs of hair. “What the hell is that?”
“A nightmare.”
Parker threw his arms around her, then pivoted until they both went flying. Somehow, he tucked her against him and rolled them out of the path of insanity.
“Mittens!”
She could hear the commotion of trying to wrangle the beast, but all she could see were the buttons on Parker’s shirt, and all she could feel was the delicious weight of him sprawled out on top of her, making it hard to focus.
The proverbial dust—which, in this case, was freshly snipped blades of grass and a few rose petals that must have fallen from Mittens’ picnic collar—settled around them like a snow fall at the end of a romantic movie.
“What just happened?” Parker asked, gasping. His eyes were wide, dilated, and the brightest blue Sage had ever seen. His chest rose and fell with large volumes of air, which crushed her breasts in the most intriguing way. He’d yet to realize he was still on top of her. She would tell him to move. Really, she would.
As soon as she could breathe again. Because the feel of his massive chest, the scent of his cologne, and the fact his mouth was mere inches from hers, had stolen her breath and made her lips tingle as if zapped with an electrical current—whether she wanted it to or not.
“Are you okay?” he asked, shoving his fingers through her hair and skimming her skull.
Shivers of delight raced across her scalp and down her neck.
Who the heck ever thought her head could be so sensitive? She grabbed at his hands to still them before she embarrassed herself. “Stop. I’m fine. I’m fine. Besides, I was the one who was supposed to save you.”
He stilled, looking closely at her face. “Save me?”
“Of course.”
“You’re not kidding,” he said in a tone of disbelief.
“Why would I be kidding?”
Those baby blues dropped to her mouth and stayed there so long, she almost raised her head to close the distance, but then, they lowered to the cleavage pushed up from the weight of him on her chest. Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to make light of their position. “Well, this is one way to change your mind that I hadn’t thought of.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to swallow them whole. What the hell? Did she really just joke about propositioning him—with sex? That was not how she operated. Besides, the last woman he’d ever want would be to have sex with was some cartoonist who was making his job harder. Making his pants harder, on the other hand…
Wait. What? The feel of his body against her thigh burned, and she couldn’t help shifting against him.
His eyes snapped back to her face, dilating further and proving she wasn’t mistaken. Something warm and heady bubbled up in her chest.
Lifting himself from her, he stood, brushing at the front of his shirt and his dress slacks. Large, green patches of grass stains colored each elbow and his right shoulder.
Desperate to change the subject, she joined him and swiped at his shirt with short, jerky movements. “I can get this out for you. I’m so sorry.” She continued to swipe blades of grass from the front of his chest, intrigued by the hard muscle she felt beneath. At this point, she was sure her blush had passed her hairline and was fast on its way down her back and to her ass by now.
This time, he grabbed her hands. “It’s okay.”
She shoved them behind her back, then searched for Mittens. Jerking her chin in the direction from which they’d come, she said, “There he is, damn trouble-maker.”
Parker raised a brow. “Mittens is a he?”
“Like I said…boys are dumb animals.”
He nudged her, then laced her arm through his. “Show me more, but regardless of how fun it was to wrestle you to the ground, can we stay on our feet this time?”
The park filled as more and more of St. Helena’s residents came for a swallow of vino and a savory mouthful of cheese. This was a crowd that treated samples like a smorgasbord, and Frankie was prepared.
Lines began to form at each tasting booth; each one represented a certain grape and with it, the perfect pairings of sweet, savory, and delicious—thanks to the concerted efforts of The Sweet and Savory Bistro and Cork’d & Dipped.
Sage narrated as they went, introducing Parker to shop owners, and showing him how many of the businesses pulled together to give the people of St. Helena something special.
“And this is a regular thing?” he asked.
She shook her head, swiping a small wedge of blue cheese from a sample plate along with a small wine glass filled with a heavy, aromatic dark red. “Is what regular?”
Sage took a bite of the cheese, letting it melt against her tongue. “Ohmygosh. You have to try this.”
She held it to his lips.
With something akin to confusion in his eyes, he glanced from her to the cheese, then opened his mouth. She popped the cheese in, then pulled her hand away, but not before his lips had closed around the tip of a finger. A sharp tingle shot through her hand as the feel of his generous, warm lips imprinted on her memory.
He closed his eyes while he rolled the small bite around in his mouth. “This is amazing.”
Yes, it was. She blinked. Oh, the cheese, of course. Sipping from the wine glass, she hoped it would yank her over-active libido back down to Earth. She handed him the glass, praying he wouldn’t notice it trembling. “Try this with it. Frankie and Nate are genius when it comes to pairing their wines with just the right food.”
He tipped the wine back, emptying the glass, but then, let it settle in his mouth before he swallowed. “You’re not lying.” Glancing from booth to booth, then out toward all the tables now filled with towns folk, his lips quirked up. “Huh. For such a small town, this wine packs a pretty big punch.”
“They’re in demand all over the world now.” Pride swelled her chest. Their success had nothing to do with her, but living in St. Helena meant everyone celebrated everyone else. And they also gave her hope. Hope that she’d find her own one day. She thought of the comic samples she’d sent to Andrews McMeel Publishing. The idea of publishing in the same house as The Far Side was as likely as getting Mittens to ever behave, but she’d gone for it anyway. And every day she waited to hear back was agony. Parker might think her comic was nothing more than an over-rated coloring book, but it was so much more. Comics were both her passion and her dream.
He didn’t even bother masking the surprise in his voice. “Really?”
Sage turned toward his condescending tone, the now common sensation of frustration tightening in her chest. At the rate her emotions were tracking around this guy, she was going to end up at St. Helena Memorial with a panic attack before the week was up. If he didn’t see this town as significant, he wouldn’t care less about its small, local paper.
“What did you think you’d find, coming here? Bonanza?”
Chapter 4
What did he think he’d find?
Parker set the wine glass down on a nearby bussing table, then grabbed another and downed it in one swallow.
Even thrown back, that was one helluva good wine.
He studied the iridescence in Sage’s eyes. It was as though they were made of glass and the dark chocolate of her iris reflected light instead of absorbing it. He clenched his jaw in the hopes of crushing his wayward thoughts with the effort. Holy Christ. The last thing he needed was to let any of the romantic bullshit of his new sexy and distracting friend get inside his head.
He sure as shit never imagined he’d find a hopeless romantic in Tiny Town who could make his dick stand tall and sing the national anthem, but one feel of her soft, giving body under his and it was like he was sixteen again and Sally Rogers let him get to second base. It had been over before it even started, and the little debacle a moment ago wasn’t really any better.
Who was he kidding? It had been great.
Sage’s curves had snuggled into him as if he were home, and God help him, if it hadn’t taken every ounce of effort he possessed to keep from kissing her or feeling just how silky her skin was above the lace of her fancy bra peeking out from the V-neck of her sweater. For a moment, he was sure she might even kiss him.
But when she brought attention to it all with her attempt at humorous innuendo, his body shot to attention like a damn cannon, knocking a little sense into him.
Tangling the sheets with the granddaughter of his grandfather’s best friend was the last thing he should do. Even thinking about it sounded complicated. He was here for a job. One that he was more than qualified to do. And he’d kick ass and do it without giving his grandfather any more reason to throw his judgments around. In the end, the old man would have to acknowledge Parker’s success, even if he was too proud to admit it.
But Parker would know.
Once and for all.
And then, he’d let the man go.
If he didn’t want Parker in his life, the reason for staying in the old man’s became less and less clear.
“Sage Mathews, we need your help.” There was no mistaking the wisdom in the voice nor the do as I say tone.
Sage stiffened next to him. “Oh God, I don’t like the sound of this at all.”
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“I don’t either yet, but I’m afraid we will.” Sage waved at two older women pinning them down with determined looks in their eyes. “Hey there, Grandie, Miss Ida.”
Parker did a double take as he took in the two women dressed in matching bright green bustiers over striped green and wine colored skirts. He’d never seen so much cleavage from someone called Grandie before—or Ida, for that matter—though, he had to admit, it gave him hope for his seventies.
“Grandie?” he asked.
Sage smiled. “She’s my great auntie…Grandie.”
“But wouldn’t that be more like Grantie?”
She rolled her eyes. “I nicknamed her when I was four, okay?” The strain in her voice almost made him chuckle. Something was up.
“We need your help.” The two ladies stopped side by side.
“Parker, this is my great auntie, Clovis Owens. She’s the owner of The Boulder Holder, a lingerie shop on Main Street and this is her best friend, Ida Beamon.” Then, gesturing toward Parker, she continued, “Grandie, this is Parker Edwards. He’s Banon Edwards’ grandson.”
Ida sucked in a breath, and for a moment, he was afraid she was going to pass out from asphyxiation. “Banon Edwards? That old coot?”
Parker winced.
Sage stared at Ida as if she didn’t recognize her for a moment. “And the gentleman responsible for saving the Sentinel.”
It was interesting that, though Sage said the words, it was loud and clear she didn’t believe it. What would it take to convince her that he had the paper’s best interest in mind? In the end, it really didn’t matter. The job would get done and get done right, then, he’d be hightailing it back to L.A. where everyone did not, in fact, know his name—just as he preferred it.
And where brown-eyed girls with hearts floating above their heads didn’t give him a hard-on. He needed to get back to the land of sanity—STAT.
The mission of the day was to tread carefully and placate Sage as much as possible just to ensure no more gorillas named Edward popped up in the paper. Then, he could get back to doing the job he was hired to do.
“Edwards, why does that name sound so familiar?” Clovis raised an arched brow.
“Grandie, I just told you.”
Clovis skimmed the front of her bustier. “No, no. That’s not it. By the way, how do you like my advertising? I thought of asking you and Harper to do it, but Lord knows how the two of you get all atwitter when I ask you to sell a little sex. So, of course, Ida was a no-brainer.”
Ida winked with a suggestive grin.
Parker coughed in his hand. Maybe it hadn’t been an innuendo when he and Sage were on the ground after all.
But Sage’s look of mortification cleared up any confusion. “Grandie!”
Clovis poked her finger in the air. “Your comic. That’s it. I think you got a winner with that one. That gorilla, Edward, is hysterical.”
Parker rolled his eyes as Sage raised her brows with an agreeing nod. “It really is,” she answered, grabbing on tight to the change in subject if the forced smile on her face was any indication.
“Anyway, we’re wasting time. Which my leopards and I don’t have much of.”
She tsked. “We need you for the kissing booth.”
Sage glanced over one shoulder, then the other, until a look of pure horror crossed her face. “Me?” she squealed quietly, pointing at her own chest. Shaking her head, she brushed past her great aunt. “Oh, heck no. I am not doing that.”
“Just for a short bit.” Clovis hooked her arm through Sage’s and led her on down the path with Parker and Ida hot on their heels. This was going to be good, and there was no way in hell he was missing a second of it.
As it was, the two looked ridiculous with the struggle it took to keep Sage in line with Ms. Owens’ heaving bosom almost popping out of her top.
“Baby’s on her break, and Emmerson and Harper are off-limits. Frankie might agree just to drive Nate crazy, but she’s busy running this shindig. You’re the only other single lady I got right this second.”
“No way. Grandie, I am not sitting in The Boulder Holder’s Kataclysmic Kissing booth.”
“I told you she’d be a negative Nelly,” Ida said.
“Hey!” Sage threw her hands up.
They arrived at the booth and Parker whistled. It was decked out in some of The Boulder Holder’s finest and the thought that Sage should model the goods instead of doling out kisses popped in his head before he could stop it.
Clovis turned and put a hand to Sage’s cheek. “But the proceeds go to the Fashion Flower’s youth art program. You know how much this would mean to Harper. Besides, where would you be if Horace hadn’t introduced you to your love of art?”
Sage’s eyes widened like a sad cartoon character’s where the light reflected and wobbled in the corners. The sight hurt his feelings, and he almost stepped in to volunteer. But just in time, clarity returned, and he found his balls again. Fuck, he’d lose his man-card before leaving town if he wasn’t careful.
