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“Here.” Atley reached over my shoulder and placed a plastic water bottle in my hand.
“Thanks.” I’d not realized how dry my throat was from talking non-stop. My attention stayed on the crowd of happy people. His silent presence behind me made me long for more. One small step back and I’d press up against him. No one would see, know, or care, and I’d get my fix of Atley.
“It’s going well.” He wasn’t asking a question, he was stating a fact.
“Yes. You saved the day, thank you.”
He cleared his throat nervously instead of replying to my statement.
“I’ve been—” His voice sounded painfully rough.
I started to turn and face him. He palmed the nape of my neck, anchoring me in place. His touch sent a shiver of longing racing down my spine.
“I’ve been meaning to apologize. I broke our rules. It was unfair of me to be jealous of Gabriel and to accuse you of all that shit. I’m sorry.” The deep timbre of his voice reverberated in my bones.
I closed my eyes while his apology sank in. The words were a balm for my soul. Matthew never apologized, not sincerely. And the men I dated before him had been worse. Hell, even my old boss wouldn’t say he was wrong or sorry.
“Apology accepted.” I barely whispered the words. His grip on my neck tightened, and the shiver I’d felt before turned into a bolt of lightning. I wanted to melt at his feet or drag him to the closest bed. It was our legendary pheromones kicking into gear, mingled with his sincere apology. The combined aphrodisiac-like effect of the two was monumental.
I couldn’t imagine time and distance dulling this sensation. He stirred up longings I’d never experienced before. Brought desires I’d ignored roaring back to life and made me want in a way that scared me. I’d have to forget about him, or my life in California would be as dull and gray as a Chicago winter.
Maybe I could find a Hollywood heartthrob to replace my dirty-talking cowboy. A smooth-talking hunk in a polo shirt and loafers that would… my train of thought derailed in a fiery crash. My body, my brain, and strangely my heart were all repulsed by the thought of the theoretical Mr. Hollywood.
Who traded a real-life flesh-and-blood hot cowboy for a theoretical anything?
Atley’s hand slipped from my neck and, still reeling from his touch and my thoughts, I took a steadying inhale, bracing myself to face him.
It was too late. He’d left. The crown of his hat bobbed through the crowd, his broad shoulders cutting a path. I sagged against the wall and reminded myself he wasn’t for me. My future wasin California. But my conviction in my new career plan wavered more than it had since the day I got on a plane to leave Chicago.
Chapter 26
Rae
It started as abar service consulting visit, and then we opened a bottle or four of wine.
The hot mess behind the tasting room bar needed professional intervention. So, Cameron and I ganged up on Lara and convinced her to help us design a more efficient bar setup. It took her about twenty minutes to rearrange everything for better workflow. Funny thing, when you literally grew up behind a bar, fixing one that only had to serve wine was a walk in the park.
The professional intervention part of the afternoon transitioned seamlessly into shooting the shit at the bar. I blamed Gabriel. He’d popped a bottle of the Coyote Creek white and poured the first round as a test of the new bar setup. Lo andbehold, it was flawless, allowing the swift and efficient delivery of wine to all.
By the third bottle, the gathering had taken on the tenor of a woe-is-me happy hour.
“There’s so much pressure. How do you plan a wedding to a billionaire?” Cameron fiddled with the stem of her wineglass and thus was unprepared for the cocktail napkins and peanuts we tossed at her while we booed.
“You barely get to stay for this bitch fest. All your dreams came true this year.” Lara refilled Cameron’s glass and scooped up the peanuts littering the bar top.
“Okay. Fair enough. I’m only here for moral support and the vino.” Cameron pantomimed zipping her lips and tossing away a key.
“I’m the most pathetic. Gabriel has a great job. Rae had good sex in recent memory and has a career path.” Lara gestured with her over-filled wine glass, sloshing some on the bar. “Single mom, permanently stuck in my career. I mean, is bartending at your dad’s bar even a career?”
“I thought your parents bought a place in Florida and were going to think about retiring and passing The Pub and the swimming hole over to you?” Cameron patted Lara’s hand that rested on the bar.
“They bought the condo in Destin, but now it’s got to be remodeled. A year, another year of working for my dad.” Lara flopped her head down on the bar with a painful-sounding clunk. “And I’ve not gotten laid in forever.”
“Gabriel, you want to help Lara out with her dry spell?” I asked.
“Moi, non. The last man who took Lara out is still getting speeding tickets from the sheriff on the regular. And their last date was like three years ago.”
“I hate your brother sometimes.” Lara turned her head to look at us through her hair, her cheek pressed to the polished bar top.
