It’s a fair question. I do the accounts for the club and all the Wild Riders’ businesses. “It’s hard to earn a living from books.”
Cassie stiffens. “You sound like my parents.”
“It’s what my mom said to me too. I joined the military because it brought in a regular paycheck. They discovered I had a head for figures, and instead of fighting on the front line I was put in the office. I learned accounting in the military. They paid for my education, and I gave them years of service in return. I never would have dreamed of getting a degree if it weren’t for the military. Where I came from, people don’t go to college.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I did twelve years before my mom got sick. She’s on her own, and it was hard on her. She fought the cancer and she’s fine. Well, as fine as she’ll ever be.”
“You’re close to your mom.” Cassie sounds wistful, and I wonder at the strange relationship she has with her parents.
“I see her every week. She lives in Wild; I like to check in and make sure she’s doing okay.” I don’t tell her where Mom lives exactly. Cassie has had a privileged upbringing. She grew up surrounded by vineyards and designer clothes and houses with more bathrooms than people.
“How about you? What do you want to do with your one beautiful life?”
She shrugs. “I’m studying business.”
We walk in silence, and I’m aware of the swish of her skirt and how close we are.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“It’s stupid.”
We turn down another path, and this one has a stone wall on one side. On the other is the dark vineyard. There’s no light here, and I take Cassie’s hand in mine. “Tell me.”
She stops and turns to me. “Promise not to laugh.”
“I promise.”
She sucks in a deep breath, and then the words tumble out quickly. “I want to be a writer.”
She bites her lower lip and looks down like it’s something to be ashamed about.
“Hey,” I slide my finger under her chin and tilt her head up. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“My parents disagree.”
“Do you do everything your parents tell you to?”
I take a step closer, and her eyes widen. Her thighs skim mine, and my heart thumps against my rib cage.
“No,” she whispers.
“Maybe it’s time to do something for yourself, Cassie.”
My thumb brushes over her bottom lip, and I pull it down. Her lips are full and soft and so damned kissable.
“What is it you want to write?” I trail my fingers down her throat, and she tilts her head back. “If there was no judgement from your parents. What is it you want?”
My fingers rest on her neck, and her pulse races under my touch. I squeeze her neck slightly, and she gasps. “I want to write romance.”
My hand slides down her body and clutches her waist. I step her backwards until she’s leaning against the wall.
My lips press to her throat, and her pulse beats against my lips.
“Is this okay?’ I ask. “Is this something you want?”
She nods. “Yes.”
