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Because I nearly kissed Chloe today.
I don’t know what I was thinking—honestly, I wasn’t. When my eyes narrowed in on that icing left on her lips by the chocolate cake, it was all I could do not to lean in and lick it off.
Sure, I was able to play it off as part of our fake engagement ruse. But on the inside, my heart warred with my head until my brain eventually won—and I retreated like a soldier being chased on the battlefield to the hallway to get my heart on straight.
“Holy heck, dude.” Nathaniel, the youngest of the Loveland brothers—and also the tallest—slaps me on the back as I push in my last crate. “You’re a freaking beast.”
“Yeah, you sure you don’t want to stick around and come work here?” Malcolm, one of the middle brothers, leans back against the cab of the truck. He barely lifted a finger tonight, though he’s got the muscles to show he could’ve if he’d wanted to. “A workhorse like you would make a fantastic cellar rat.”
“Stop trying to give away your job.” His oldest brother, Oliver, walks up to Malcolm—who’s wearing nice jeans, a button-up black shirt, and boots—and sticks a crate into his gut. “And work a little, why don’t you.” Scowling, he storms off toward the underground cellar.
Malcolm rolls his eyes. “I’m leaving for a date soon!” he yells at Oliver’s retreating back. “Getting my best shirt all dirty,” he mutters under his breath as he walks to the back end of the truck and slides the crate in with ease. Then he winks at me again. “Seriously, though. You ever want to give up police work to come do menial labor with few benefits and long hours, you just give us a ring.” Then he finger guns me and stalks off toward the house.
I allow my gaze to wander back to Chloe, who’s sitting and laughing with the women across the yard. I’m not surprised they’ve taken her into their fold.
“Aw, don’t mind him.” Nathaniel walks over and hops onto the lowered tailgate. “He’s just grouchy because he hates being stuck in this dinky town. His words, not mine. I love it here.”
“I see.” I run a hand through my hair and tug on my shirt to create some airflow. Thankfully, the night air is cool and soon begins to dissipate the sweat on my brow. “Why doesn’t he just leave then?”
“Oh, he tried. Not sure why he came back, but apparently he couldn’t hack it. Not like Flynn and Adam. Though now that I think about it, nobody knows exactly where Flynn is. Good guy, but he’s one of those drifter types.” Apparently Nathaniel doesn’t have a filter. But he’s genuine, and I like him. Not only that, but his chatter keeps my brain busy so that I don’t dwell on how gorgeous Chloe looks in her leggings and oversized shirt with a high-waisted belt that she’s somehow made look extremely sexy.
Then again, I’m pretty sure she’d look sexy in a potato sack. So there’s that.
“Shew, man, you’ve got it baaaaad.” Nathaniel pokes me with his booted foot just as his brothers—Oliver and Dallas, who’s still muscular but on the leaner side with a blond man bun and a clear affinity for music with his Beatles T-shirt—lug the final two crates of wine out into the open.
Once they load them in, Oliver smacks Nathaniel lightly upside the head until he jumps down and snaps the tailgate shut. Then Oliver turns to me, hand outstretched. “Thanks for your help, man. You’re welcome anytime.”
“Thanks for the work out. Other than walking everywhere so we can plan the wedding, I’ve had no exercise.”
Oliver’s eyebrows lift, and it looks like he’s going to say something when car headlights flood the deck leading from the house. He squints through the darkness until the lights click off, then mutters, “What’sshedoing here?” and turns on his heel, hauling rear back to the cellar.
“Who’sshe?” I try to make out the figure as two women climb the steps, one wearing a bright red and black outfit. That one looks vaguely familiar, but the waning light hasn’t done me any favors in being able to recognize her from this distance.
“Oh, nobody,” Dallas says. “Just Oliver’s old girlfriend. Stephanie Reynolds.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Stephanie. Not her again. Is she stalking Chloe? “I need to g—”
“Here.” Oliver’s back and he’s handing out a round of cold water bottles. “Drink up. It’s not that hot, but you can still get dehydrated out here.” The man clearly takes his job as vineyard manager very seriously.
“Thanks.” I uncap the water and take a guzzle, the plastic creaking under my fingers as I do. Then I glance over at Chloe again.
But she’s gone.
Both her … and Stephanie.
I’ve been distracted and now she might be in trouble. “Sorry,” I say. “Where’s the loo?”
“Just through the deck doors, past the kitchen, and on the right,” Nathaniel says after chugging his entire bottle of water. He wipes his mouth with the inside collar of his white shirt.
“Thanks.” I take off at a clipped pace toward the house, but instead of heading for the four women still sitting on the deck, I go north along the house’s perimeter, keeping an ear cocked for Chloe’s voice. In this moment, I know it’s likely an overreaction, but I wish I could reach for my firearm that I’m allowed to wear at home and on official visits to the States, but don’t have the clearance to wield on this particular trip.
Finally, I hear voices coming from around the side of the house, so I slow my pace and inch toward the corner of the structure, peeking around the edge when I arrive. Thanks to large floodlights fastened to the sides of the house, I can see both women standing beside a lovely home garden with an abundance of flowers planted in old wine barrels. Thankfully, Chloe looks at ease where she leans back against a full-sized barrel that hasn’t yet been transformed into a planter, arms casually folded across her chest. “It’s fine, Stephanie. Truly.”
The other woman paces, though how she doesn’t trip in those platform shoes is beyond me. “I just didn’t expect to see you, so I was flustered.”
“It happens.” Chloe’s voice is soothing as she smiles.
“I haven’t told anyone who you really are, I promise.”
