Page 71 of Wild Abandon

Brent leans forward and brushes the hair off my shoulder.

“Don’t get me wrong; I think your tenacity is astounding. But a woman of your caliber should be waited on, not the other way around.”

He smiles, and I match his grin and lean into him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re suave?” I ask.

He smiles back at me. “All the time.”

I am laughing at this statement when I notice someone coming through the door. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans with a knit hat on his head.

What the hell is he doing here?

Nate takes a seat at the sushi bar and glances around the room. When his eyes fall on me, the look says he is not surprised to see me sitting there.

“Are you okay?” Brent’s voice pulls me back.

“Yes. Sorry. I thought I saw something. What were we talking about?”

“How suave I am.” Brent’s arm is resting on my shoulder.

His finger rises up to play with the lobe of my ear. I muster every ounce of energy I have to keep my focus on Brent as hard, cold emerald eyes are staring death lasers into the side of my head.

“What are you doing next weekend? I want to take you to my place in Tahoe. Just you and me, a hot tub, and an incredible view of the mountains.” Brent is crooning.

“Tahoe? Just the two of us?” My voice squeaks.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a sleepover with a guy. I’m no prude. I’ve been around the block a few times. But the insinuation in the invitation leaves nothing up to misinterpretation.

Brent’s cologne overpowers the space as he leans in and says into the side of my neck, “Just”—he gives my skin a nibble—“the”—nibble—“two of”—nibble, nibble—“us.”

As much as I feel Brent’s lips on my neck, I feel Nate’s stare even more.

“What do you think?”

Nibble. Stare. Nibble. Glare. Nibble. Jaw Clench.

“I’ll be right back.” I rise from the table.

Brent rises with me and then sits back down as I walk toward the ladies’ room. Before I make it there, I feel a tug on my hand and am pulled in another direction, out a back door and outside into the chilly Napa evening.

“What is wrong with you?” I yell at Nate as soon as the door closes behind us.

“You’re still going out with that guy?” Nate is not happy.

“What do you care? You’re the one who said he was a catch.” My hands are flying out and up and around.

“I said you picked a good one. I didn’t say he was good enough for you!” He stops and corrects himself, changing the path of the conversation. “And what are you doing, working at Russet Ranch? I thought you were a cellist.”

“I am a cellist.”

“At a winery?” His feet are wide apart, and his hands are on his hips. “You could work anywhere else in the world, but you landed at Russet Ranch?”

I think about his question and answer as honestly as I can, “Sometimes, the path you’re on isn’t the right one for you.”

Nate’s eyes burn. “Is that what you’re doing, Crystal? Switching things up?”

“Yes,” I say with surety in my statement. “Haven’t you ever tried something wild? Something different?”