Love Unforgettable: Love in San Soloman - Book Three

by Wells, Denise

  It took some sweet talking, but I convinced the girl at the front desk of the vet’s office, Anna, to let me pay for Lexie’s dog’s medical bills. Since they’re one of the few vets around who also treat farm animals, I figure it’s smart to get in good with them from the very beginning. I’ve got a few hundred head of cattle with no particular breeding season, so calving happens year-round. Couple that with twenty-seven horses, a herd of goats, a few dozen chickens, as well as a peacock, and I’m bound to need the doc soon and often.

  I liked running into Lexie at the Mexican restaurant with her friends. A lot. Granted, I’ll have to get used to living in a smaller town and running into people I know. Which can either be a good or a bad thing. I didn’t expect to feel all uncomfortable and dumbfounded-like just by seeing her. One look in those big blue eyes and I’m no better than an eyeless needle, I swear. Couldn’t even come up with the words for a proper conversation when I first saw her at her table.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, I snuck out after my meeting without saying a word to her. Then hung around her car like a teenage boy trying to casually run into his crush after school. Flubbed that interaction up good and, sure enough, she was out of there faster than a sneeze through a screen door.

  Now what, Cole?

  I throw some tools in a saddle bag and take one of the horses out to the northwest side of the pastures. I thought I saw a few of the fences leaning a bit when Earl and I toured the ranch. Never mind that’s the side that borders Lexie’s property and that it’s entirely possible I’ll see her while I’m out there. I’m a rancher. And this is all about the fences.

  I take my personal horse, Captain America, and let him run at a full gallop once we clear the gates to the pasture. I haven’t been on him in a week, I’ve missed it for sure. It doesn’t take us long to get to the northwest edge of the property. Once we do, I can see why Bette Davis was drawn to Lexie’s property. From this vantage point, it’s like a water color painting from an art book. Rows and rows of grape vines with varying shades of greens and the ever so hidden purple, the large winery buildings in the distance, and much further in the distance, the varying heights of mountain peaks.

  I dismount and let the Captain graze while I check on the fencing that didn’t need immediate attention. The problem with trying to find work to do that may not exist, is that you find work to do that does exist and then some. Before long I’ve stripped off my shirt, gone through a whole bottle of water, and am starting to regret beginning this project.

  Until I hear the ATV coming from the west. I pull my hat off and wipe my brow with my forearm, squinting for a better view. I’m not disappointed to see pink hair flying in the wind, heading my way.

  Lexie pulls up to her side of the fence after a minute or so and climbs off the four-wheeler. I can’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but she’s dressed in some kind of combat boots, jeans that hug her ass in a spectacular fashion, and a tight t-shirt. Her hair is straight this time, and wind-blown. I have to admit, I’m fascinated by the color. Not that I haven’t seen colored hair before, I think it’s just that it’s on her, I’m intrigued by everything about her.

  “Mornin’,” I say.

  “Good morning,” she says. “I wondered if that was you.”

  “It is. And may I say you look lovely this morning.”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I wonder if I should put my shirt back on, until I see her head tilt down slightly and stop her gaze at my chest. Her lips part and, if I’m not mistaken, her breath catches.

  Thank God for strenuous labor and the muscles it brings.

  It takes every ounce of effort I have not to flex for her. “How are you? How’s Sasha?”

  “Uh . . .” She shakes her head. “Yeah, we’re both good. She’s a tough cookie. Plus, I think she’s digging the pain pills.” She giggles at her own joke, so I laugh as well. “You doing okay?” she asks looking down at the ground, then back up at me again.

  “I’m doing real good. Just fixin’ the fences. Making sure no one gets out again.”

  Idiot, Cole, why’d you bring that up?

  “This little fence keeps them in? I thought it would be a bigger fence,” she says.

  “Well, yes, it’s a taller fence where the horses are, this is the pasture for the cows, so this fence is for them. They won’t jump it.”

  “So, you’re not really fixing it to keep horses from coming at my vines, it’s so cows don’t.”

  “True.” Feeling hot all the sudden, I pull my hat off and swipe at my sweaty head with my forearm again. “I . . . uh . . . I don’t know why I said that. It was stupid,” I say. She laughs again.

  “Do I make you nervous?” she asks, standing up straighter.

  Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin’ it back in, Cole.

  Aw, fuck it. Just tell her how you feel.

  “Yeah, sweetness. You do.”

  “Wow. That is so awesome. Why?”

  “Are you kidding? You’re insanely beautiful, obviously really smart, talented and driven, and successful. What’s not to be nervous about?”

  “Ohmigod! Thank you. It seriously makes me want to hug you.”

  “I don’t see anyone stoppin’ you.”

  She leans over the fence to hug me, but at that point it’s easy for me to just pick her up at the waist and bring her over to my side.

  So, I do.

  The connection is nothing short of electric. Even though I’m so much taller than she is, all the important parts line up when I have her lifted to me.

  I hang on for a bit too long than can be considered neighborly.

  She slides back down my body as we end the hug, her t-shirt catching on my skin and rolling up. I close my eyes and suppress a groan at the prospect of skin on skin.

  I look down as I feel her feet hit the ground and open my eyes to catch her looking back up at me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

  “Thank you,” I say clearing my throat. “That was a really great hug.”

  “It was,” she agrees, letting out a long breath. “We should totally do it again sometime. Err . . . I mean . . . well not . . . You know what? I gotta get back to the winery. I just came out to check on some vines.”

  “Are they good? The vines?” I ask, feeling more self-assured by her reaction. And doubting she’s looked at them yet.

  “Oh . . . uh, yeah . . . I mean no. I don’t know.” She slaps her palm against her forehead. “Silly me, I forgot to check them. I’m gonna go do that now.”

  Before I can say anything more, she’s scurried back over the fence and feigns a look at a grape cluster. She turns back to me and gives me the thumbs up.

  “Yep, all good. Okay, gotta go.” And with that, she climbs back on the ATV and is roaring away.

  I laugh to myself, pleased with how that went.

  The good thing is she’s obviously just as affected by me as I am her.

  Score one for Cole.

  Chapter 15

  Lexie

  What in the actual fuck just happened?

  My God, Lexie. You see a shirtless guy and next thing you’re crawling all over him like a monkey to a tree.

  Mmmm, he does have a body like a tree. All big and muscular and yum.

  Shut up, Lexie.

  Make me.

  I can’t forget that he’s the enemy. He hurt my dog.

  Well, his horse hurt my dog.

  Except that he’s fixing the fence so that never happens again.

  But that wasn’t the horse fence he was fixing, it was the cow fence.

  But he’s apologized and he’s obviously sincere. And he gives a really good hug.

  Okay, enough thinking about Cole Mason.

  I need to get back to my new lab and make sure everything is ready to run acid level checks this weekend on my barreled Cabernet Sauvignon. Plus, we’ve got the first event at the new location to figure out.

  No time to waste.

  I get back to the barn, an
d park the ATV, wave to Daniel, and make my way to the lab. It’s an amazing facility. When bubbe said she wanted to put money in the winery, she wasn’t kidding. I plan to pay her back, but it will take me a good ten years to do it. If not longer.

  Speaking of, she and her friend, Babs, are lounging on the outdoor couches outside the new tasting room, which isn’t open yet, drinking sangria. One of the new things we’ll be doing is a sangria bar. Also, bubbe’s idea. We’ve got lemon, lime, peach, and apple trees, plus a couple strawberry and blackberry bushes on the property. And they always produce way more fruit than we can ever handle ourselves. I wasn’t keen on turning my wine into sangria, but Mavis said we could use the bulk wine I produce, or whatever I didn’t deem good enough to bottle.

  Which is a fantastic idea. Sometimes that wine can be saved by blending it into something else, or I can use it for barrel topping, but oftentimes it’s sold as bulk wine to the larger producers who will use it in a blend. Their production is so large they can take a mediocre wine and mix it with something and the end result isn’t changed much at all. It’s just filler. But it’s not a money maker when I sell it that way.

  The wine I sell by the bottle is expensive for the everyday consumer. Upwards of $75 a bottle. But it’s really fucking good. I make sure of that. It’s boutique style wine, the grapes hand-picked and manually sorted. Most of what is bottled is free-run before press. It’s a lot of work, but it’s also why it’s so good.

  And why moving from my quirky downtown space into something on the land with the vineyards in the background is also important. It’s part of the experience and what people want to see. San Soloman prides itself on being a teeny tiny Napa. And when you go to Napa, you get an experience for sure.

  I flop down on the couch next to Babs and grab myself a glass of cold sangria and take a long drink. It’s really good, especially after the heat of Cole Mason. Well, and of course, riding the dusty roads of the vineyard.

  “Oh, bubbe, that’s delicious,” I tell her. She preens at my compliment.

  “We’ve been tryin’ all the flavors this mornin’, sugar. And this one is definitely my favorite,” Babs says.

  “Is this peach?” I ask.

  “I don’ remembah,” Babs laughs.

  “Feh, don’t listen to nonsense, bubala. She’s drunk. Lightweight.” Mavis waves her hand in the air as a gesture of dismissal. Her second favorite hand gesture.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Babs leans over the coffee table toward Mavis. “I was weaned on bourbon. This grape juice just barely makes a dent.” She hiccups, and she and Mavis both dissolve into giggles.

  “How many bottles have you had?” I ask. Mavis motions toward the side table against the wall where four empty bottles stand. “Four? You’ve had four bottles already? Are you kidding me? Oh, my God, bubbe!”

  “Is no problem, bubala. If we have the hangovers, we keep drinking. L’chaim!” She raises her glass to Babs in a toast.

  “Lah Climb,” Babs repeats raising her own glass.

  “Okay, well, good luck with that. I’ll be in the lab if you need me,” I tell them. But they’ve already started talking about something else and aren’t paying attention to anything I say. I walk through the tasting room and down the back hall to my lab ready to get to work.

  * * *

  My phone rings and I glance at the clock, seeing that I’ve been at it for a few hours. I look at the screen and see it’s Trevor calling.

  “Hi.” I smile.

  “Hey, beautiful. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too,” I tell him.

  And I do.

  No harm in letting him know that. That’s not opening myself up too much, right? I could say I miss you to anyone and it doesn’t have to mean anything super serious.

  “I can’t wait to see you again,” he says.

  “When do you come back?” I ask.

  “Before the wine event if not sooner. That’s on Saturday, right?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess. Doc just said this weekend, he didn’t specify.”

  “Oh, well you may want to talk to Anna instead of Doc. She’s the one making all the other arrangements and she told me Saturday night at seven.”

  “Well, okay then. Saturday at seven o’clock in the evening it is.”

  Our conversation stalls. I’m not sure what to say to him. And clearly, he feels the same since he’s quiet as well. What am I supposed to say, “Hey I know you just had your fingers inside me the other day, and I liked it, but what does that mean for us as a couple, exactly?”

  “You were going to tell me the other day what happened a few months ago and why you left so suddenly,” I say, tentatively. I’m hoping he’ll finally explain what went on and it will all make sense and I won’t feel sad about it anymore.

  “Yeah, you know, Lex, I think that’s really something more for face-to-face, you know? I just don’t want to get into a big heavy conversation on the phone.”

  “Well, what is it? I mean, did someone die?”

  “No, nothing like that. I just need you to see my face when I talk to you. And I need to be able to see yours,” he says.

  “Okay, but you’re kinda freaking me out, Trev.”

  “I know, I’m sorry, baby. I don’t mean to. It’s not a big deal. Just something I want to discuss in person.”

  “Okay, I get it,” I say, trying to mean it.

  “Lex, I can’t stop thinking about the other day. That kiss, your hands on my cock, my fingers inside your pussy—”

  “Trevor! I’m in my lab.”

  “Aren’t you alone?”

  “Yeah, but still.”

  “But still, what, babe?”

  “I don’t know, I mean someone could walk in. Plus, if I want to touch myself I kinda need to put you on speakerphone and it just seems awkward, you know?”

  “I don’t know, actually. Lexie, I need you. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.”

  “I really miss you though. Come on, baby. I need a release. Please.”

  “Trev, I just, I don’t know if I’m comfortable having phone sex with you while I’m at work. Sorry.”

  “Oh, but I can finger fuck you and get you off in the exam room at MY work and that’s fine?” he sneers.

  He has a point.

  “You got off too, don’t forget.”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  “Look, Trev—”

  “I gotta go, Lex. Later.” He hangs up before I have a chance to say anything else. Which I think I’m okay with. I mean, I don’t like how the conversation was progressing and just wanted out of it.

  I can’t explain my hesitancy with phone sex. And he’s right, I was totally fine in the exam room. I didn’t care if we got caught. But here, at my work, it’s different.

  Or maybe it’s different because he’s not here in person. It’s definitely easier to put him off over the phone since I can’t ever say no to his face.

  Regardless, my afternoon is interrupted, so I decide to head out a little early and bring dinner to Remi and Chance at the hospital.

  * * *

  I knock on the hospital room door then peek my head in. “Room service.”

  “God bless you, woman. I am so sick of this hospital food,” Chance grumbles.

  “Because it’s not like I’m running out and getting you food every day or anything,” Remi says.

  “Beautiful,” Chance turns to her. “Even if I started now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for how incredible you’ve been. But I am sure as fuck going to try. And if I don’t say it enough, thank you. So much.”

  Remi’s face softens as she smiles at him, and if I’m not mistaken, she gets a little teary eyed. She waves her hand at him and turns away, stepping into the tiny bathroom and closing the door behind her. I set the food down on the little side table and start opening containers.

  “You really love her, don’t you?” I turn to him and ask.

  “I do, Pinkie. That okay?”

  I sm
ile big. “More than okay.”

  “Then feed me!”

  “Seymour,” I add.

  “Huh?” Chance asks.

  “Feed me, Seymour,” I say. “From Little Shop of Horrors?”

  He shakes his head, a blank look on his face.

  “You never saw Little Shop of Horrors?” I’m shocked.

  Remi steps out of the bathroom at the same time that I say it. “Lex, he hasn’t seen anything unless it has Jean-Claude Van Damme in it.”

  “Don’t say that like it’s an insult. The man is a secret genius. Bloodsport? Need I say more?”

  I laugh at the two of them. Loving the comradery that has formed so quickly between them, and the banter that is so lighthearted. I give each of them their orders and sit down to eat my own. Balancing the Styrofoam container on my knees while trying to cut my enchiladas with a plastic knife and fork is a feat unto itself.

  “Pinkie, don’t you knock it until you’ve seen it.” He points at me with one hand and takes a large bite of his burrito from the other.

  “I have seen it,” I tell him.

  He furrows his brow and swallows. “I thought you were a romance movie girl.”

  “I am,” I say. “But really I’m just a movie girl. I love action movies.”

  “Pinkie likes action movies, beautiful,” he says to Remi, taking another big bite. Over half his burrito is already gone.

  Amazing.

  “So, watch them with her.” Remi sits on the table by the food, then takes a bite of her taco and shrugs her shoulders.

  “Okay!” he says.

  “Cool,” I say. “And, hey, now that we are movie besties, I need some advice.”

  “From me?” Chance asks at the same time Remi asks, “From him?”

  “Yep,” I respond. “You’re a guy and I want to know how a guy thinks.”

  “Okay,” Chance says. “Hit me.”

  “I need to know if I should trust Trevor again.”

  “And?” he prods.

  “That’s it,” I say.

  “Where’s the part about how a guy thinks?” he asks.