“I do not bring women here,” I reassure her. “Unless you count my three-year-old niece, who comes for the occasional sleepover when her parents are misbehaving.”
She giggles, but the relief in her expression is evident. It elicits a wild feeling of pride that she wants me to herself. Of all the far more eligible men on the planet, she’s picked me. I really am a lucky son of a bitch.
“Well,” she says, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “Maybe we’ll need to change that.”
I nod, my mouth gone dry. The thought of Marissa becoming a part of the fabric of my home is inconceivable. At the same time, I can easily imagine sitting beside her on my porch every night, watching the sun fade over the mountains.
I can hear the clattering of doggy toenails the second I insert my key into the door. When Marissa steps inside, I don’t even have timeto warn her before a tornado of fur barrels toward us. Diesel starts happy barking the moment he sees me, bouncing up and down on his paws like they’re lined with springs.
“This is Diesel,” I inform her. “One part boxer and one part kangaroo.”
Diesel lavishes me with his kisses before redirecting his attention to Marissa. She reaches out a hand to pet him, and he pants happily, a string of drool spilling from each corner of his mouth. His paws pitter-patter with excitement as he shifts toward her, and I realize his intentions a moment too late.
“Diesel. Don’t even think about it.” I shoot out an arm to hold him back, but he leaps over it and tackles Marissa, knocking her right to the ground.
“Diesel! Off!” I command, pulling him by the collar. He ignores me, not the least bit interested in curbing his exuberance as he peppers her face in kisses. My chest tightens until I hear Marissa laughing.
“It’s okay,” she says beneath the pile of furry limbs. “Honestly, this is the way every person should be greeted when they enter a house.”
She rolls into a sitting position, and I watch, transfixed, as Diesel lays his head in her lap. He’s a friendly dog, but he’s never this familiar with people he’s meeting for the first time. I guess Marissa’s magnetism extends to canines.
“Your dog is kind of a flirt,” she says as she scratches behind his ears. “Must get it from his dad.” She grins and my heart kicks against my rib cage. Jesus, this woman really has me. I’m not sure when it happened, exactly. All I know for sure is that I never want her to let me go.
When Diesel finally has his fill of love, I open the back door and shoo him outside so he can relieve himself. Marissa looks a bit disheveled after being trampled but she’s grinning at the door, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
“I like that dog,” she says. “He’s got spunk.”
“He likes you too,” I tell her. “I think you’ve got a new fan.”
There’s a faint buzz from Marissa’s pocket and she reaches inside, extracting her phone.
“Pooja’s awake,” she says. “I’d better head back. Will you be around later?”
27MARISSA
“Here’s your flight, ladies.” Even beneath the awning, the vineyard’s covered patio is drenched in sunlight, and I shade my eyes as I glance up at the sommelier.
“Wow, this looks great,” Pooja coos. “Can’t wait to dig into Lucky Flight Number Three!”
“I, uh… believe this is Lucky Flight Number Four,” the sommelier replies. She glances meaningfully at our empty cheese board. “I can grab some more cheese as well? Always best to drink on a full stomach!”
“That’d be great, thanks,” I tell her.
The minute she walks away, Pooja lets out a low whistle. “For a second there, I was worried she was going to cut us off. What a tragedy that would have been. I’ve only just embarked on my mouthfeel journey.”
I snort into my glass as I finish the last of my strawberry wine. Pooja convinced me to do a wine tasting with her this afternoon, and despite the small portion sizes, it’s safe to say we’re both pleasantly buzzed.
Pooja lifts one of the glasses from the wine tray. She gives the pale golden liquid an artful swirl before taking a sip.
“Mmm,” she says, adopting a posh accent. “I’m getting hints of apple. And a skosh of cinnamon.”
I select another glass and take a sip. “This one is lovely. I’m detecting a dapple of moonlight.”
“Divine! I’m getting titillations of tumbleweed.”
“This one has notes of boarding school and sexual repression.”
“Ooh, let me try.”
