On Paper

by Shae Scott

  "I guess I dodged that bullet then, didn't I?"

  "I guess so," I agreed smiling. Not just any smile. A flirty, girly one. God, help me.

  "Dogs or cats?" he asked.

  "Both," I said.

  "Same," he smiled.

  "I feel like we are at speed dating," I laughed. I was so distracted by him and his list of questions that I nearly forgot to take in the scenery as we drove north.

  "It may seem trivial, but the details are important," he pointed out.

  "Okay, then, what is your favorite holiday?" I asked.

  "You mean besides my birthday?" he asked.

  I laughed and then laughed harder at his bewildered expression. "So you're one of those," I said.

  "One of those?" he asked.

  "You know your birthday isn't actually a holiday," I pointed out.

  "Tell my mom," he deadpanned.

  "Oh, I'm sure she is in total agreement," I said.

  "She is very smart," he said.

  "No doubt," I agreed.

  He finally cracked a smile. God, he looked amazing when he smiled like that.

  "So, what is your favorite holiday?" he returned the question.

  "Thanksgiving," I said quickly.

  "A good old fashioned food coma, huh?" he smiled.

  "Of course. Plus, it's like the kick off to Christmas. The whole family is there, but you don't have the stress of gifts. You just get to eat and nap and enjoy the people you love. And it’s the day before you are officially allowed to put up your Christmas tree without ridicule and judgment."

  "Oh so you're one of those," he teased, throwing my words back at me. I laughed. I was a little surprised at how easy our teasing was. I liked it. It made me comfortable.

  "My turn. Let's see," I pondered my next question, careful to pick one that I didn't mind answering back. "What do you do when you get bored?"

  "Good one. Actually, I tend to fill up my time. I never seem to have enough of it as it is. I don't keep normal hours. There are lots of nights I am up writing until dawn and then just grab a nap in the morning. If I do find some down time I usually go for a run or read. Binge out on watching the 24 hour news network," he shrugged.

  "You binge watch news?" I asked.

  He laughed, "Hot, huh? I thought that was what I was going to do with my life, so it still fascinates me."

  There was something sexy about his confession. I had a thing for smart guys. The fact that he was a smart guy wrapped up in that body seemed too good to be true. Yet here he was. He looked over at me and caught me staring. He held my gaze for a moment only breaking it when I turned away.

  "You're turn," he urged.

  "Oh, um . . . I read. Big surprise. I always have something to read just in case. Waiting rooms, lines, they don’t bother me,” I smiled.

  "Yeah, I read a lot in airports and planes. Less distractions," he agreed.

  Speaking of distractions, I was suddenly distracted by the huge winery that came into view as we crested the hill. The landscape was lined with neat rows of vines that went on as far as I could see. Keaton slowed the car down as we came up along a winding road that led to a huge stone house. The landscaping around the main building was exquisite; everything bright and vivid. It was a living postcard.

  "This place is awesome," I said as Keaton moved the car into a space. "Are they open? Do people taste wine this early?" I asked, glancing at my watch. It was still before noon.

  Keaton smiled, "You'd be surprised."

  I felt the giddy excitement bubble up inside me as he exited the car and made his way to my side to help me out. The simple gentleman's gesture went a long way in my book because it wasn't expected anymore. He offered his hand and I took it, focusing on the warmth of his skin against mine. As we walked towards the entrance his thumb began to draw lazy circles across my hand. It sent tingles across the surface of my skin and made it hard to pay attention to anything else. I barely noticed when he opened the door and ushered me inside, not until the connection was broken. I blinked out of my haze and blushed when I saw the hint of a knowing smile on his lips.

  The winery wasn't too crowded this time of day, but there were a few people there for tastings. Keaton had arranged for a tour of the grounds before our tasting which I was really excited about.

  We walked along the edges of the vineyard as our host pointed out different rows and explained what grapes were used for which wine. It was all very precise and organized. Keaton asked lots of questions, ever the curious journalist. It was fun to see his genuine fascination and the way he would rattle off follow up questions until he was sure he had the whole story straight in his mind. It made me feel like I was getting yet another glimpse of the real Keaton.

  We spent an hour touring the grounds. Our guide took us everywhere from the storage rooms where the wines were barreled to the big tubs of juice where it would sit and ferment. I even got to try my hand at stirring the grapes the old fashioned way. I was pretty sure I wouldn't look at a bottle of wine the same way.

  It was all fascinating. Not to mention the landscape here was unbelievable. I made the decision to come back here someday. It really was the perfect set up. How could you go wrong with such beautiful scenery and permission to be tipsy this early in the day?

  Apparently, Keaton had an entire day of winery hopping in mind. I felt kind of bad since he was driving. He only got a couple of sips here and there. I tried to refrain from drinking too much, but some of it was so good I had a hard time putting down the glass.

  It didn't take him long once we were back on the road to start back up with his questions.

  "So how about you and Lily. You've been friends a long time?" he asked.

  "Oh yeah, since we were kids. We met in first grade and have pretty much been friends ever since," I said.

  "She seems fun. My brother seems to like her a lot," he said, shaking his head at the thought of his kid brother.

  "Lily is a force of nature. She's always been the one pushing me out of my comfort zone. She lives by a go big or go home philosophy," I laughed.

  "And you’re more of the logical one. Always thinking things out?" he asked.

  "What makes you say that?" I asked. "Do I come across as stuffy and boring?" I didn't much like that assessment.

  He laughed, "Not at all. Quite the opposite. I just meant that you come across as someone who is careful. Or rather, thoughtful.” He seemed to think about his words for a moment, “What I mean is, you seem like the kind of person who studies things. Like you wouldn’t just make a decision on a whim. Is that wrong?" he asked.

  "No. I am like that. My mom always called me her little observer. I would sit in a room full of people and just watch everything around me. I was always trying to figure everyone out, ya know? I figure to do that you have to gather all of the details," I said.

  He nodded thoughtfully. "I love to people watch. Sometimes I go to a park and sit for hours and assign stories to people who walk by," he smiled.

  "Always the writer," I pointed out.

  "I guess. Honestly, I think that's what drew me to news. I always wanted to get the real story. I thought if I could uncover the truth it would mean something," he said, a far away look on his face.

  "Do you miss news?" I asked.

  "Sometimes. But I love the fiction world. There's a lot of freedom there. Now I focus on creating someone's truth instead of just uncovering it."

  I smiled at that. That was a nice way to look at it. "Your stories still touch people," I reminded him.

  He threw me a big smile. "Yeah, that's cool," he admitted.

  The silence drifted between us for a few moments while we both reflected.

  "I'm glad your logical side let you come with me today," he said finally.

  I laughed, "I've been working at being more spontaneous this trip. I promised Lily I'd go with the flow for once."

  "I bet she got you into so much trouble as a kid. Has she always been like that?" Keaton asked chuckling.


  "She is very persuasive," I admitted.

  "I can see that."

  "Actually, it's one of my favorite things about her. If it weren't for her I'd have missed out on a lot of fun things. Her mom died when she was seven. Not long after we met actually. It was really hard on her. I mean, of course it was, to lose your mother at such a young age. But she says that it taught her to appreciate life and not to be afraid of it. She wants to soak up every experience that she can. I guess I'm lucky she takes me along with her," I laughed.

  "That's a pretty amazing outlook to have about the whole thing," Keaton said.

  "Yeah. I admire her. She's really good people," I agreed. "So you and Miles are close? You said he travels with you a lot?" I asked.

  "When he can. It's nice to have him around and he's a big help at things like this. I tend to get sidetracked and miss things if he's not around to keep me organized. And he can get away with more when it comes to wrangling me than a stranger can.

  "He's two years younger?" I asked. I was pretty sure that is what Lily had told me.

  Keaton nodded, "Yeah, he's the baby of the family. We have an older sister, too."

  "Close family?"

  "Very. No real dysfunction, which these days, is pretty dysfunctional if you think about it," he laughed. "My parents have been married for thirty years and they still have date night every week."

  "Then it's no wonder you write romance," I smiled.

  I noticed the strange look cross his face, as if my statement had surprised him. He took a beat before responding, staring straight ahead, his grip tightening on the wheel. "I think they are the exception. It’s hard work. People give up too easy now. That kind of love doesn’t exist in real life. At least not anymore.” His voice was tight, as if he were revealing some deep secret.

  "You don't believe in fairytales?" I asked, not because I wanted him to, but because I'd expected him to.

  He shrugged, dismissing my question and I could tell he was feeling uncomfortable.

  "A romance writer who doesn't believe in love," I pondered just under my breath. His gaze snapped to mine, surprised.

  I just smiled at him.

  He cleared his throat, still uncomfortable with where the conversation had gone. Or maybe he was just uncomfortable showing me something he kept under wraps. I guess that made sense. It didn't really bode well for his brand.

  "What about you? Big family?" he asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

  I sighed, letting him shift the spotlight. "No. Only child. Daddy’s little girl. Which is funny because he always wanted a boy. He is a huge baseball fan and when my mom was pregnant he went out and bought a closet full of little Kansas City Royals' jerseys. Then he got me," I laughed.

  "I'm sure he fell in love quite quickly," Keaton offered.

  "Oh yeah, he's amazing. He still dragged me to all of the games growing up. I make sure to go with him every summer. That way he still gets to buy all the jerseys," I laughed.

  "That's really nice," he smiled.

  "Yeah, if I move to New York I'll miss those ballgames," I admitted.

  "Still an if?" he asked.

  I shrugged. "No, I'll go. It's just hard for me to leave my comfort zone. I'm not always good with making big moves. I’m cautious," I admitted. Then, I felt embarrassed because once again saying it out loud made me feel boring.

  "Yet here you are . . . with me," he pointed out. “That doesn’t feel very cautious.”

  He had a point. He most definitely was not the safe option. And once again, I was struck with the realization that I really liked it.

  HAVE YOU EVER been on one of those dates with someone where everything just kind of falls into place? Everything feels easy and effortless and you don't even remember to stop and make sure you doing all of the right first date things? It’s like an instant connection takes over and it just feels-- easy. Ever have one of those?

  I hadn't. Until today.

  My dating history has been filled with quick rendezvous and the occasional casual fling. It was rare that I pulled out all the stops like I had today. I usually just went through the motions. But today was different. When she’d put me off a day I’d taken advantage of the extra time and made plans. I researched the best wineries and even set up special tours to make sure she got the full experience. I wanted to impress her, not because I wanted her to sleep with me, but because I wanted to see her smile. Of course when she smiled, I couldn’t help but want to sleep with her. I'm still a guy and she's still sexy as hell and the idea of getting her beneath me has been on my mind since I first saw her.

  But with Quinn there is this whole other layer and that is what has me so intrigued. I want to peel everything back and know all the bits and pieces. I know she's probably sick of my questions, but I can't help but ask them. Each answer that she gives me makes me want to ask twenty more. She fascinates me. She’s a contradiction of hard and soft, quiet and fierce. The careful girl who is slowly learning she wants to be brave. And the best part, she has no idea how unique that makes her.

  We pull up to another winery and I smile over at her. Her cheeks are still flushed from the last stop. "Ready?" I asked, unbuckling my seatbelt. She gave me a nod, following my lead. I met her on her side of the car and took her hand as we walked up to the main house. This was a smaller vineyard and family run. The views were breathtaking with rolling hills of green that stretched out for acres. It was stunning. I imagined what it would be like to live somewhere like this; to spend my days on a deck with this as my backdrop.

  "Not a bad backyard is it?" she said, mirroring my own thoughts. I gave her hand a squeeze in agreement.

  "Not at all," I agreed.

  We were met inside by two brothers. They were Italian and greeted us with big smiles. "Welcome, friends. Are you ready to taste the best wine you have ever put to your lips?" one of the men asked. He introduced himself as Vinny and I smiled at the typical Italian name. It fit him though.

  "Most definitely," Quinn said, flashing them both that smile that could melt the hardest of hearts. Hell, it's been melting mine.

  We followed them over to the counter where they did their tastings. It was pretty quiet here, aside from the booming voices of the Basilico family who all seemed to be equally as boisterous as Vinny and his brother Sam. There were a few other people here doing tastings at other ends of the bar, but each group had their own guide.

  "We've got quite an amazing list to share with you," Vinny said as he began lining up glasses in front of us; a white and red for each of us. As he does he tells us a little bit about the winery and the family history. It turns out Vinny's great uncle had started the winery, but when he had died unexpectedly at the age of twenty-six, his brother, Vinny's grandfather, had taken over to make sure that his big brother's dream reached fruition. It had been a family affair ever since.

  Vinny was a good storyteller weaving the tale as he gathered a few bottles of wine and some crunchy breadsticks. Quinn eyed him curiously and he laughed. "Wine makes you hungry," he said simply. She looked doubtful, but smiled anyway, the warmth in her eyes lighting up the entire room. At least it seemed that way to me.

  "Well, that and it's nice in between, cleanses the pallet . . . keeps you from falling off your stool if you get too drunk, no?" he laughed.

  "Good call," she agreed laughing with him.

  "I'm sure your man would catch you, maybe you like that better?" he teased. She turned her gaze to me and gave me a wink, her smirk causing my stomach to flip. That was different.

  I watched as Vinny poured us two glasses of crisp white wine and as I watched Quinn focus on his explanation of grapes and aging and barrels I started to feel something unusual. Something different. Nerves. I was suddenly nervous. Butterflies in my stomach nervous. I tried to shake it off, but there was something about the way she leaned in and engaged with Vinny, laughing easily, asking questions and the way she would steal glances at me, pulling me in, that had me feeling like I couldn't catch a deep breath
.

  "Go on, give it a taste and let me know what you think?" Vinny encouraged. We sniffed and swirled, looking for legs like we'd been taught earlier in the day and then each took a sip. It was good, really good. I nodded to Vinny giving him a thumbs up. "Yeah? I knew you'd like it. It is one of our most popular." Vinny said.

  "What do you think?" I asked Quinn, who was taking another sip. I watched as she swallowed, the slight movement of her throat as the liquid slid down causing me to shift in my seat.

  "So good. I think I want to take a bottle of this home," she said.

  "You wait, Miss Quinn, you are going to want to take them all home. My family is good with the wine. We'll be your favorite. You'll see." I laughed at Vinny's confidence as he continued to flirt with my date.

  He was right of course; we really did want to take them all home. I had Vinny set us both some bottles aside and then grabbed a bottle of the Chardonnay that we'd sampled first. Basilico's sold a basket of fruit, cheese and bread and offered up a hillside with spectacular views for their best customers. I’d made sure we were considered such customers. I picked up the picnic basket that Vinny's sister had put together and led Quinn outside.

  "This was fun," she said as we made our way down the path towards the secluded spot that Vinny had offered. It was just down from the main house and tasting room and offered up a small square of land overlooking the rolling hills that we had admired on our way in. It was the perfect place to spread out a blanket and take in the view.

  Quinn was flushed and a little tipsy from the day. We’d had lunch earlier, but she could probably stand to eat a little more. I set down the basket and began to spread the blanket out when she took it from me offering to help. The sweet smile she gave me made my heart do weird fluttering things. I'd think I had a murmur if it wasn't exclusively tied to her presence.

  I watched the blanket fly open from her hands and then drift towards the ground in a graceful decent. I was completely caught up in the sight of her as she smoothed out the wrinkles that I nearly forgot about the picnic basket in my hand. She sat down and then looked up at me quizzically. "Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to give me some of that cheese? Cause I have to say, I'm starting to feel a little drunk."