Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(27)

“Have you ever?”

“Have I ever what?”

“Been tied up.”

Her face grew pink. “None of your business.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me.”

“Why, so you can make fun of me for being a goody-goody? Let’s just move on.”

“Guess I have my answer.” I looked at the screen and laughed. “How much money would a billionaire who likes to watch have to pay you to have sex with me in his velvet blimp?”

“A million dollars.” She guzzled some wine.

“That much?”

“More if I have to fake the orgasm.”

I smirked. “You wouldn’t have to fake it.”

Her shoulders rose as she sipped her wine, as if she didn’t believe me.

“Just out of curiosity, what would you do with a million dollars?”

“Hmmm.” She thought for a second. “Honestly, I’d probably try to buy more land around Abelard. Plant more grapes. Hire more people. Build myself a house on the property.”

“Really? You’d stay right where you are?”

“Yes.” She made a grand sweeping gesture. “Go ahead and tell me I’m boring.”

“I don’t think it’s boring at all. It’s your passion. Yes, my dream is to go wherever life takes me and do big things in far-off places. But your dream is to be true to your roots and do big things at home, and I respect that.”

After another sip from her glass, she looked at me. “What about you? What would you do with a million dollars?”

“Well, first of all, I wouldn’t make anyone pay me to have sex with you in a velvet blimp. I’d do it for free.”

“Very generous of you.”

“But if I ever had a million dollars, I’d probably use it to travel around the world and eat and cook and meet people and learn about food in all kinds of places—like Anthony Bourdain in Parts Unknown.”

“Would you want cameras and crew following you around? Or would you just do it for the fun of it?”

“I wouldn’t mind the cameras and crew, as long as I had a say in how the show was produced. Lick My Plate was fun, but it wasn’t really about cooking or food.”

She snickered. “And will your new, serious food show be called Gianni Lupo: Too Hot To Handle?”

Sitting up, I reached over and pulled her hair. “Hey. We called a truce, remember?”

“That’s right. So I want to stay put and you want to roam the planet. I guess that means our moms’ dream that we walk down the aisle together is dead.”

“Pretty sure that dream died a long time ago, probably around the time I smashed your umbrella.”

“Agreed. Do you even want to get married?”

“Maybe when I’m, like, seventy and out of good ideas.”

“Because you’d get bored?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. I hate the thought of settling down, being tied to one place or one person. I like being free to make my own decisions, to pack up and leave when I feel like it.”

“Then you should definitely not get married.”

“I take it you want to get hitched?”

“Yes. I’d like a family.” She stared into her wine. “But the thing is, I’ve never even come close to feeling that thing I’d want to feel if I was going to spend the rest of my life with someone.”

“You mean you’ve never been in love?”

“I don’t think so.” She looked up at me. “Have you?”

I shook my head. “No. I’ve been in a few relationships, but they were pretty casual. I move around a lot, and working in restaurants, it’s hard to date. You don’t have many nights free.”

“Yeah.” She played with her empty glass. “I don’t know, it just seems like such a gamble, falling in love. Winnie was always losing her heart to some guy who didn’t deserve it—I’ve dried her tears enough times to be more careful. And I’ve never had a boyfriend that—never mind.”

“What? Tell me.”

“No. You’ll think it’s dumb, and you’ll make fun of me.”

“Try me.”

She sighed. “I want someone to look at me the way my dad looks at my mom. I mean, you can tell when they’re in a room together that she’s everything to him. He doesn’t even have to say it.”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking about my parents. “My mom and dad are like that too. But I think it’s rare.”

“It’s almost worse, knowing that kind of love exists, but worrying you’ll never find it. Like maybe if I hadn’t seen it in real life, I’d think it was only in fairy tales and I’d be willing to settle for less.” She shrugged. “But I’ve seen it. And that’s what I want.”

“I hope you find it. Ready for the next question?”

“Wait, I have to use the bathroom first, and we need more wine.” She got off the bed and tightened the blanket around her.

I tipped up the last few drops in my glass. “Okay, you go to the bathroom and I’ll get the wine.”

She waddled over to the window like a pig in a blanket at IHOP and elbowed the curtain aside. “Wow. It’s still coming down. It’s pretty, though.”