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“Thank you. I think.” I glance around, looking for Matt, and spot him standing with a group of people who seem to be enthusiastically chatting him up.
Good. He doesn’t need the stress his dad brings him while worrying if anyone is impressed with the wine. Not that I ever doubted he’d succeed, but he’s been on edge for days. Weeks. Months.
Probably why he kissed you. Needed an outlet for all that nervous energy and you were the perfect distraction.
The thought comes upon me so quickly, I go still as I turn it over again and again in my head. Could that really be the reason why he kissed me? A way to unleash all that edgy energy he’s been living on for the last few weeks?
God, I hope not.
“So can I ask you a question, pretty lady?”
Vinnie’s voice reminds me what I’m supposed to be doing, and I turn to look at him, a tentative smile on my face. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“Are you fucking my son?”
Chapter 8
Bryn
My mouth is completely dry as I gape at Matt’s father, shocked that he would say such a crude and horrible thing.
They have similar features, Vinnie and Matt. Same dark hair and brown eyes, though Matt’s are much kinder than Vinnie’s cold, almost mocking glare. His mouth is set in a firm line too, as if he doesn’t smile much.
I bet he doesn’t. It seems he’s got a mean streak in him a mile wide.
“Well? Cat got your tongue or what? I can only take your silence as confirmation that yes, indeedy, you’re fucking my son,” he says. “The lucky bastard.”
Swallowing hard, I search for composure. The very last thing I want him to believe is that Matt and I are having some sort of illicit affair. I wouldn’t put it past this man to sell the story to whoever would listen if it brought him any bit of attention.
“Your son is my boss,” I finally say, my voice raspy, and I clear my throat. “That’s it. There’s nothing between us except a working relationship.”
He casts a skeptical glance my way. “Uh-huh. That’s why he looks at you like you’re his favorite dessert and he’s a starving man. I get it. Really I do. I never could keep my dick in my pants, you know, especially when faced with a gorgeous woman such as yourself. And neither can he.” Reaching out, he touches me, slides his fingers down my forearm. I yank my arm away, my skin literally crawling from his touch.
“There’s nothing going on between us,” I say, my voice firm, my insides anything but. I’m a nervous, quaking mess, afraid this man will somehow figure out that Matt and I have at least kissed.
His questions, his blunt wording, are tainting everything I’ve shared with Matt. Reminding me that I’m just the same ol’ girl from Cactus, Texas. The girl everyone chases after and expects sexual favors from, all because she has a pretty face and curvy figure.
That’s me. I’m that girl, the one who everyone makes feel like she’s a slut. A whore. I’ve slept with two men in my life. I could count the sexual experiences I’ve had on one hand. Nothing lasting, nothing good, and I always run before it can turn into anything more. I’m always too scared.
Yet I’m the shameless hussy who’s out to fuck around with every man I see. I’m a home-wrecker. A man stealer. A girl who’s good for nothing but cock sucking. A pervert’s dream. I’ve been told this time and again.
And I’m being told it right now.
“You keep on saying there’s nothing between you two, but soon you’ll fall under the DeLuca charm. You all do. We’re irresistible. My son and I have both had plenty of women. I know when one’s interested. And you, my girl, you are definitely interested.” Vinnie puts his hand over mine and holds firm, trapping it on the table. “If my son doesn’t take the bait, just know I’m always here waiting whenever you’re ready.”
Oh my God. Now he thinks they’re interchangeable? That I’ll just bounce from father to son? “You’re disgusting,” I say, my voice low as I finally snatch my hand back from beneath his.
He laughs, the sound so loud more than a few people turn and look in our direction, including Matt. He shoots me a look of concern, but I shake my head, offer him a quick smile. The last thing I want is him coming over here and discovering this particular conversation. I can handle this man on my own.
He’s not the first to think like this, and I’m guessing he won’t be the last.
“Disgusting only because you don’t want to hear the truth.” He reaches for his cup of coffee and drains it. “Keep doing what you’re doing, girly. He’ll get you into his bed sooner or later.”
That’s it. I’ve had it. The man is a pig, and I need to get him out of here. “How did you get here tonight, Mr. DeLuca?” I ask, using my best, most professional voice. Not a twang or y’all in sight.
“Ah, now we’re back to the formalities, huh? Well, I got myself a ride. The car and driver are sitting out in the parking lot,” he says with a grin.
“Then let’s go.” I stand and grab hold of his arm, yanking him to his feet. He stares down at me in shock, most likely surprised little ol’ me could tug him to his feet like that, but I just smile my best smile and lead him toward the entrance of the winery. “You need to get on home. I know Matt was thrilled you thought of him and wanted to stop by, but I think your time here is through.”
