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I don’t know how long Fiona will stay occupied upstairs, and I’m desperate to pull this woman as close to me as I can get her, but I show what little restraint I possess and wait for what she wants to show me.
She opens the bag and starts removing takeout containers of burgers and fries from the roadside stand we stopped at two months ago. I notice packets of ketchup and mustard—plenty of both—and a large bag of peaches and plums because she’s always trying to get Fi to eat more fruit.
“Figured I’d bring you dinner for a change.”
“You didn’t have to do that. But thank you.”
I look at the brown box sitting on the table, expecting Ruby to open it next or offer an explanation, but she waits, chewing on her bottom lip.
We hear Fiona’s feet shuffling on the floor above us, and it’s probably a matter of minutes before she comes tearing down the stairs. Ruby opens the flaps of the box and takes out a single plate made of raw gray clay.
It’s unglazed and a little imperfect around the edges. When she hands it to me, I run my hands over the cool surface, feeling the weight of it. But I still don’t understand.
“My sister is an architecture major, but she’s minoring in ceramics,” Ruby says.
“Did she make this?”
“I did. She helped.” Then she laughs. “A lot.”
Ruby reaches over and smooths the furrows from my brow with a finger. And it’s like she can’t help it—she traces a line straight down between my eyes, down my nose, and over my lips. After standing here itching to kiss her since she got out of the car, I can’t take it any longer. Clamping my hand over hers, I run my tongue over the tip of her finger and suck gently on it.
Her breath hitches, and I watch the fabric of her pink tank top flutter as her chest swells. “We can talk about ceramics later. I need to kiss you.” My voice sounds as raw as I feel.
She nods, and I don’t waste another second. Her mouth melts against mine as I push my hands over her cheeks and tangle them in her hair. It’s a kiss that defies the laws of science. Hot, wet, desperate, and…over way too soon because Ruby pulls away.
“Hang on. I want to talk about ceramics.”
Her words make no sense because I’m dizzy with desire for her, but I try to rein in a few brain cells. “Um, okay.”
Wrapping my hand in hers, she goes back to the box and removes a series of plates, much like the first one she showed me. By the time she’s taken out eight, I see that they’re a matched set. “I didn’t have time to glaze them, but this way, you and Fi can decide what color you like first.”
My eyes widen as I realize what this is. “You made me a set of dishes? Why?”
“Because I love you, and I want you to believe I’ll stick around to eat on these dishes for a long time.”
She tells me about wanting to give her sister space to spread her wings and her immense pride that Ella found a place to live and got a job. I tell her about my fears about our finances, the meeting I had with my siblings, the A plans and B plans, and even a C plan I came up with in case we still need more money to cover the company’s debts.
“It’s risky, and we could all lose every penny we have, but it will keep the business afloat and the investors happy until we can figure out why my father spent half a billion dollars on grapes from a winery that doesn’t seem to exist.”
I spare her my theories about shell companies and offshore accounts, but she asks about that stuff anyhow because she’s smart. She even wants the name of the mysterious winery I’m starting to believe my dad made up. “Hayden Lanes. Another outfit with a name ending in Lanes or Fields or Pines.” I roll my eyes, feeling like the name of our winery isn’t much better.
I expect her to roll hers back at me, but instead, her eyes go wide. “Hang on.”
Ruby rifles through her purse and pulls out an iPad. She scrolls through several screens and types into the search engine, which returns a result. “Hayden Lanes was on a sign. I saw it when I was at Duck Feather.” She shows me a photo she took of some signage pointing to several faux “lanes” running between the vineyards, each labeled with a different name—Swallow Circle, Hayden Lanes, Rose Way.
“Wait,what?” I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I’ve been searching for Hayden Lanes, and Ruby took these photos weeks ago?
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea there was any connection.”
“There’s no way you would, but I don’t get it. The small winery next door just happens to have a sign on its property with the same name my dad mentioned when he was explaining our losses and need to buy grapes?”
“Seems like more than a coincidence,” she says.
“I’d say so. At least we have a financial solution for now that will pull us through the shareholder meeting. But this is…I don’t even know what to think. But I’ll get into that tomorrow.” I’m talked out. Happy to be with her, exhausted from talking, and lighter than I’ve felt in a year.
But there’s more. I tip my forehead against hers, helpless against the urge to be connected, finding more points of contact.
“I have a confession to make,” I breathe against her cheek, pulling her off her stool so I can hold her closer.
