Ignite (Cloverleigh Farms #6)(37)

“She used to make promises about coming up to see us, but she rarely kept them. After a while, we stopped believing them.” I paused. “And eventually, she didn’t even make them anymore.”

Dex looked at me, then reached over and touched my wrist. “You deserved better.”

Surprised, I glanced down at his hand, which must have made him self-conscious because he removed it. “Anyway,” I said, trying to lighten my tone, “I’m hoping my declaration of independence will prevent me from making the same relationship mistakes I’ve made in the past. Or at least help me learn to be a better judge of character.”

“So if I see any selfish-looking pricks on your doorstep, should I tell them to fuck off? I think I’m an excellent judge of character.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, smiling as I imagined him lurking on his doorstep, giving the next Merrick a menacing growl.

He nodded. “I can spot a narcissistic asshole a mile away. I was raised by one.”

“Oh.” My smile faded.

“It’s fine. Believe it or not, his shitty example taught me a lot of valuable lessons about the kind of man and father I want to be.”

“That’s good, I guess. Silver lining and all.”

“Exactly.” As he finished off his beer, lightning flashed in the sky. He rose to his feet. “I better get going.”

“Okay,” I said, wishing he didn’t have to leave. But I stood up too. “Thanks for coming over. And for the Frosty.”

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry again for what I said.”

I shrugged. “No hard feelings.”

Once more we stood almost chest to chest, just like we had the other night, the candle flickering next to us in the dark. In the distance, thunder rumbled softly.

Dex glanced out to the left. “Storm coming.”

“Yes.”

He met my eyes again, then dropped his gaze to my lips. I held my breath, waiting for him to make another stupid mistake and kiss me again. Hoping he would.

But instead, he lifted his beer bottle and slowly rubbed the mouth of it along my lower lip, watching intently. I opened my mouth slightly, and he eased the bottle in a little deeper. I slid the tip of my tongue along the rim. My nipples stiffened beneath the silk of my top.

Exhaling, he lowered the bottle.

“Dex,” I whispered.

But he turned around and walked away, leaving me alone in the dark.

Lightning flashed again, and I put a hand over my stomach. My legs felt wobbly, and as the thunder reverberated through the sky, I felt it in my bones. My skin prickled with goosebumps, as if the air was charged with an electrical current.

I could barely breathe.





Eleven





Winnie





The following night I drove over to Abelard Vineyards to meet with Ellie about our wine tasting dinner, which was going to be at Cloverleigh Farms in mid-October. Henry DeSantis, the head winemaker at Cloverleigh Farms, was a good friend of Ellie’s dad and loved the idea. I’d put it on social media this morning, and already we’d received several calls from people inquiring about tickets.

Ellie answered the back door with a scowl on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, following her into the large, French-country inspired kitchen.

“He’s here,” she said bitterly, taking down two globe-shaped wine glasses from an open shelf.

“Who’s here?” I sat down at the marble-topped island, setting my laptop bag on the stool next to me.

“The scoundrel. The rake. The bane of my childhood.” She attacked a bottle of wine with an opener, taking out her anger with vicious twists of her wrists as she drilled into the cork.

“Gianni Lupo?”

“Shhh.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the hallway that led to the main part of the house. “I don’t want him to know I’m here.”

“Is he being interviewed for the head chef position?”

“Yes.” Setting the corkscrew aside, she poured us each a glass of ruby red Gamay from Abelard. “Tell me you mentioned the position to your sister.”

Guilty, I bit the tip of my thumb. “Shoot. I forgot.”

She stopped pouring and pinned me with a fiery look. “If he gets this job, you are dead to me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s been a crazy week. My mind was all distracted.”

“With what?” She picked up her glass and swirled the wine before sticking her nose in it and inhaling.

“I don’t know.” I slid my glass a little closer to me. “Work. Family.”

“Hot grumpy neighbor.”

“Hot grumpy neighbor,” I admitted, figuring there was no point in lying to her. “He came over again last night.”

“Oh yeah? What happened this time?” Her brown eyes danced. “Did he accidentally take your pants off?”

“No,” I said, like I was offended. “He brought me a Frosty.”

Her eyebrows went up. “How did he know you like them?”

“I guess I mentioned it the other night.”

“That was thoughtful of him, to bring you a little gift,” she said with syrupy sweetness before she took a sip of her wine.