Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(15)

“What are you doing?” April asked.

“Nothing.”

“Um, it looked to me like you were sniffing Henry’s coat.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“Really? Because it also looked like something was going on between you two just now in the tasting room.”

My stomach hollowed. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like I was interrupting something.”

“That’s even more ridiculous.”

But was it?

Ever since Henry had walked me home last night, he’d been on my mind. Not in an obscene way or anything, just . . . there. I’d had such a nice time with him. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d talked so openly and easily with someone, let alone a man. Brett was a talker, of course, but it was always totally superficial. And if I tried to steer the conversation somewhere deeper and more meaningful, if I tried to hint at the fears I had that our marriage was coming apart at the seams, or ask him how he was feeling, he would just change the subject. After a while, he wouldn’t even look me in the eye.

Henry had looked right at me. Listened to me. Made me feel heard and understood. Plus, he was smart and passionate about what he did, and he was really hot. I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed it before. He was like a cross between a rugged outdoorsman and a sexy professor, right at home in jeans and boots with dirt on his hands, but intelligent and articulate and sensitive too. I’d almost died when he told me to let the wine warm up on my tongue—it was probably an innocent, wine-industry kind of thing to say, but it made me hot all over.

I wondered what he thought of me. Did he find me attractive?

God, it was such a juvenile thought—Do you like me? Check yes or no—but I had to admit, part of me hoped he did, even if nothing could come of it. It had been a long time since I’d felt beautiful in a man’s eyes.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” April challenged. “Henry is very handsome.”

“He is,” I agreed carefully.

“He’s also a great guy. And you’ve both been through a lot.”

“That’s just it,” I said. “It’s way too soon to even think about . . . moving on. My divorce is barely final.”

“Doesn’t seem to be holding Brett back,” April observed wryly. “And I’m not saying you need to marry Henry. Just get to know each other better, especially since you’re moving here. Be his friend. There’s no harm in that, is there?”

“No,” I admitted.

“That’s all I meant.”

We walked up the steps of the front porch, and I thought of what Henry had said to me last night.

I can give in to a woman.

I shivered inside his coat. He hadn’t said it salaciously or even flirtatiously, but something about the words themselves or maybe the quiet, serious way he’d delivered them had made my rusty, out-of-use core muscles clench up tight.

And April wasn’t entirely imagining things, of course—there had been a moment there in the winery when I’d had this crazy feeling Henry might try to kiss me. What was even crazier was that I’d kind of hoped he would, even though I didn’t think I was ready for it, and something told me he wasn’t either.

But I’d wanted it.

Hell yes, I’d wanted it.





Inside the house, it was noisy and chaotic—everyone had arrived, the dining room table was laden with platters and bowls and chafing dishes, Christmas carols were playing on wireless speakers, a fire roared in the fireplace, five kids were running in circles, and everyone was in a good mood. It made me so happy to see Keaton and Whitney enjoying themselves, I didn’t even care that their dinner would probably consist of cookies, chocolate, and candy canes. The adults poured drinks, filled plates, and sat around in the great room addition off the back of the house, eating and sipping and catching up. It felt so good to be surrounded by family again, it nearly put a lump in my throat.

Taking my plate over to the couch, I sat down and chatted with Meg and Noah about getting involved with a charity they loved, since I’d been on the board of several philanthropies in the past and had experience with fundraising and special events. At the bar, I spoke with Mack about the schools my kids would be attending, got the scoop on the administrators and teachers he liked and disliked. Back in the great room, I took a seat near my dad and asked him if he had ideas about neighborhoods to search for houses in, what the prices and taxes might be like, whether or not I should use an agent or do it on my own. Chloe asked if I had any time to help out in the tasting room next week, since the inn would be booked and she was short-staffed while employees were on vacation. I told her I’d be glad to.

My appetite was good, and I was back at the table for seconds of dessert when I heard a knock on the front door. My stomach jumped, and I quickly checked my sweater for spills and rubbed my lips together, hoping they still had a little color. Setting my plate aside, I went to answer it.

When I pulled the door open, I wasn’t prepared for the way my body reacted. At the sight of Henry freshly scrubbed, hair neatly groomed, scruff trimmed, wearing a dark wool peacoat and holding a bottle of wine, my face warmed and my pulse zoomed.

“Hi,” he said, his breath cloudy in the cold air.

“Hi. Come on in.” I moved aside so he could come into the house and caught the scent of his cologne as he passed by. My dormant lady parts tightened. “Can I take your coat? I promise to give it back—along with your other one—when you go.”