Page 113 of The Difference Between

Gavin grins.

“No,” I snap. “Nothing weirder than usual. No G-spots.” I pin Gavin with a stern look. To Banyan, I add, “And none of your sexual healing nonsense. And what the hell is that thing?”

He blows into it again then looks at me like I should be impressed. “Twelve-holed ocarina. Good for the vagals and the vines.”

“Why can’t you be normal?”

“Why can’t you be chill?” he counters. “You know what?” He snaps. “I think you need a jaw release.” He sticks his fingers in his own mouth then rubs somewhere along his gum line, mumbling around his hands. When he pulls the fingers out, he shifts his jaw, wipes his saliva-covered fingers on his pants, and grins. To the room he says, “Back me up here, people. I keep telling the Fire Lady she needs a poke of the lo⁠—”

“Okay.” We are not going there. Gavin saying G-spot already made me have a split-second visual of him leading the charge to find it then taking up full-time residency. “Anything else?”

Rue makes a smart-ass comment, and Remy takes a slug of wine.

Gavin says, “Have you noticed those grapes stopped in the middle of the road?”

I angle my head to look out a window. “What?”

“Think they ran out of juice,” he says.

I bite back my smile and check my watch. “Nash should be here any minute.”

Everyone files outside except Gavin, who watches me from across the bar as I manically move bottles and glasses.

“Stop looking at me,” I say without looking at him.

“I like looking at you,” he says easily.

This, of course, makes me look at him and his good face and bright eyes. “That’s creepy.”

He leans onto his forearms on the bar. “I’m a creep.”

A laugh puffs out of me. “Why are you here?”

“I work here.”

I give him a flat look. “Not doing this.”

“Apex Properties, is it?”

I still. That’s the LLC I run my rental properties under . . . and now purchase vineyards with. “And?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “That’s not what you told me the company you work for was called.”

“It’s called a subsidiary.” I bring a hand to my hip. “Ever heard of it?”

“Sure I have.” He grins. “You just never mentioned it, and I saw it on Mom’s paperwork—and the paperwork you sent me for the shop. Didn’t know if that meant you had any other secrets.”

Abort! Abort! Abort!

“Hardly.” Other than my whole life. I focus on a stack of napkins. “Speaking of secrets, saw you out at the shed.”

His smile widens, teeth so perfect he could sell braces. “That’s not a secret. I’ve invited you, you’ve declined.”

He has a point.

He reaches across the bar to tuck hair behind my ear, making me pause mid-organization of something that’s already organized. “You’re going to be great today.”

“That why you rallied the troops to assist?”