“You don't hear me objecting,” she whispers, her hands bunched up in the cotton of my T-shirt.
I release a sigh as I look into her desire-filled eyes. “Is that really what you want? To skip over the relationship building stuff and just fall straight into bed?”
“Well, I thought that until you used the words ‘relationship building’ in a sentence. Is that what we’re doing, Duke? Are we building something together?”
“I hope so. I’ve never met anyone quite like you Ava Monroe, so a few measly days just doesn’t seem enough.”
“I kind of feel the same way about you, Duke Fox.”
Grinning, I lean down and take her mouth in mine again, kissing her softly until that soft turns firm, and I start to lose myself in her again. I have to force myself to stop. “Tour,” I whisper against her lips as she giggles.
“Yes. And more of this relationship building you speak of.”
“Come on,” I say, grabbing the picnic basket and taking her hand in mine. “I’ve got just the place for us.”
AVA
Duke walks me along a trail through the property, talking intermittently about his past and the property itself. I learn more about his work, and he even tells me how his previous relationship ended. While I knew a man like Duke wouldn’t have led a solitary life, I still feel a spark of momentary jealousy, but then relief because I realize her loss is my gain. I just wish Duke getting hurt wasn’t the consequence of her actions. But I promise him I’d never see him as anything but worthy and then kisses me and shows me the function hall on the property that has an industrial kitchen and working bar. It’s surrounded by beautiful—if slightly overgrown—gardens and I can’t help but imagine myself getting married here. It's so peaceful.
“Hiring this place out will be how we bring in money to support the vineyard’s growth. On top of still working at the garage and the tattoo parlor, of course. Neither of us are planning on giving up on those businesses any time soon.”
He sets out the picnic blanket from the basket I packed, and we sit down under an archway covered in lilac climbing roses. Tiny little moths and butterflies flutter about at the disturbance of two people sitting so close to their home.
“I always thought I was hustling hard between my job and the online store. But you and Dottie are something else. I’m surprised you have time to even sit with me now and eat.”
“It’s not work when you’re doing something for the love of it,” he says, reaching into the basket and pulling out containers of food. “This place is a slow and steady project. We don’t have any hard and fast deadlines for when everything moves onto the next phase.”
“Well, I’m impressed with everything you’ve done so far. It’s beautiful here.”
“More beautiful now,” he says, grinning up at me as he pours two glasses of the rosé I packed then hands one to me.
“You are too smooth, Mr. Fox.”
“Must be in the name,” he says, tapping his glass to mine.
“Aren’t foxes supposed to be cunning?”
“That is what they say, but I like to think they’re misunderstood. Have you heard the little yips those guys make? Fucking adorable.”
“You’re a softy at heart, hey?”
He winks at me and lifts his glass to take a sip. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Wait. We should make a toast,” I say, my hand shooting out to stop him. The rosé splashes him in the face and I let out a gasp, handing him napkins right away. “Crap. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“I know you didn’t,” he says, wiping the droplets off his skin and dabbing at his shirt. “But no harm, no foul. What did you want to toast to?”
I bite the inside of my lip and grin. “To us. To your eternal patience. And to the candles that brought me here.”
“The candles? You mean, the one you left for me on my truck?”
“Yeah. I can’t remember if I told you this, but they claim to smell like Whisper Valley, and since I loved them, I wanted to come here and see if it was true.”
“And is it?”
I tip my head back and inhale deeply, sweet flowers, earthy grass and something crisp and wonderful fill the air. “It does,” I say, my eyes landing back on him. “It really does.”
“To us and the candles then,” he says, tapping his glass to mine before we both take a long sip. The bubbles dance along my tongue. “You know, Dottie lit that candle and says she can’t smell a thing.”
