Laine straightens, and if Mrs. Peterson, our former high school principal, notices how swollen Laine’s lips are, or the lush mark on my neck she was leaving, she politely does not comment on it.
“Well, hey there, Mrs. Peterson. How you doing?”
“I’m just fine, the good Lord does provide.” Mrs. Peterson presses her hand to her chest. “I heard you were working at Bluebell. Hey there, Zoe.” She gives me a knowing glance that has me adjusting my hemline on reflex.
“Yes, ma’am.” Laine leans on her club like a dapper gent with a cane.
“Our shining star, back in Blue Ridge.” Mrs. Peterson tilts her head as if she’s trying to work out an algebra equation that doesn’t add up. “I have to say, I’m surprised.”
Her words are innocent, but the subtext is clear:You of all people were supposed to make something of yourself.Judging by the stiffness that’s gripped Laine, she heard Mrs. Peterson’s meaning, too.
I wrap my arm around Laine’s tensing back and squeeze. “Well, that’s the thing about stars, Mrs. Peterson. They shine in our skies, too.” I purposefully look over Mrs. Peterson’s shoulder. “Is that your grandson dunking children in the waterfall?”
“Oh, my! Good seeing you, dears.” She hustles off, a principal to the end.
Laine exhales, and I squeeze her a little tighter, leaning up to whisper in her ear, “Your worth doesn’t come from your job title, where you work, or where you live, Laine. You are amazing, just as you are.”
Laine turns to look at me, her tawny eyes a dark, smoky black in this poorly lit tropical jungle course. She drops her club, then takes mine and throws it down, too, and gathers me up in a kiss so scandalous, it takes my breath away. Kids are oohing, adults are shushing, and the poor teenager on duty takes a solid minute to get up the nerve to tap Laine on the arm and remind her this is a family-friendly establishment.
When we break apart, Laine leans her forehead against mine.
“I wish I’dknown.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The summer days pass in a haze of heat and Laine. Courtship, as it turns out, is an extraordinarily horny endeavor, though true to Laine’s word, she refuses to let me “get it out of our systems.”
Tonight, under the stars, lying on a bed of old blankets and pillows in the back of my truck while some action movie plays in the background at the Swan Drive-In, I’m putting that to the test, my new favorite pastime.
I push Laine back and climb on top of her, shamelessly grinding against her lap.
“What are youdoingto me, baby?” Laine’s hands travel down my sides, over my clothes, her lips slightly parted, distracted by the view of her thumbs rubbing circles where my hard nipples strain against my T-shirt. She’s guiding me against her, the friction between us building into a threesome of Laine, me, and the jeans between us, dragged along for the ride.
“What? We’re parked in the back, and it’s misty out. The place is deserted.” I peek over the truck’s rim in both directions before lifting my shirt over my head. But growling, Laine pulls my hands away. Under Laine’s rules of courtship, kissing is allowed as well as all manner of groping, but no nudity or getting off oranythingthat would stop the high-pitched hum of need that’s reverberated through my body since the wedding.
I drag her hand between us, gasping as her knuckle presses hard against where I’m aching for her. “Can you feel how wet I am for you, Laine? Don’t you want me, too?”
Laine groans as she palms the hot underside of my jeans, giving me the heel of her hand before roughly grabbing me by the waistband. “Don’tyouunderstand that once I get my hands on you, I’m never letting go?” She yanks the rim of my jeans, rocking me against her, groaning again. “Are you prepared for howhardI’m going to own your pussy?”
“That’s not very PC of you, Laine Woods.” My breaths are shallow, light-headed from need.
“There’s nothing PC about what I’m going to do to you, boss.”
This time, I’m groaning as she pulls me down until I collapse against her chest, soft breasts and hard nipples, and I feel like I’m going to go mad with wanting.
“Come on, Laine, hasn’t there been enough courting yet?” I pant into her neck, sliding my palm down the exposed planes of her stomach, fingers dipping below her waistband. “You’re not going to be here forever.” I try, but there’s no hiding the melancholy that creeps into my voice. Laine grabs me by the wrist, then twists her body, dismounting me so that we’re facing each other on our sides.
“Now, how do you know that?” She lifts the hand she caught like a criminal mid-break-in and kisses each of my greedy fingertips, slowing down my thundering heart with each deliberate brush of her lips.
“You told me, day one. You’re not relocating to Blue Ridge.” I swallow against the knot forming in my throat. “Has that changed?”
“I don’t know,” Laine says. “But I don’t need to know right now, either. I’ve committed to you and Cosimo that I’ll be your vintner as long as you need me. Once that’s done, if a good opportunity opens up here, then of course I’d consider staying. But none of that changes how I feel about you, Zoe, and I refuse to let what’s unknowable dictate what I do now.” She runs her hand up and down my bare arm, her dark eyes lit by stars. “And I wantyou, boss.”
It’s not a promise she’ll stay, but hope resonates through me all the same. I tug her close, wanting her more than ever. “Then stop courting me andhaveme.”
“Didn’t anybody teach you your ABCs?” She smiles at me crookedly. “Always Be Courtin’? That’s the secret to happy relationships, according to my papaw.”
“You can court me forever if you’re putting out.When?” Not quite begging here, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned since Laine showed up in my vineyard, it’s that dignity is overrated.
