Page 119 of Lennox Lane

Lennox leaned close. “Better or tolerable?”

Lane looked at him.

The question called back to a morning in her bed, to the way she’d told him that with him, everything felt better and tolerable. She’d meant it then. She meant it even more now.

“Better,” she said softly.

His smile faded into something tender.

Lane turned back to her wine before the moment could swallow her whole.

Dinner lingered in the best way. Knox sat with them for a few minutes between courses, telling stories about building Olive and Oak, about merging Greek flavors with soul food because both cuisines understood family, fire, and feeding people past hunger.

Dana talked about Maison Noire, about choosing wines that didn’t just impress but conversed with food. Lane listened and asked questions. She laughed and felt herself unfold in a room where everything had been designed for pleasure without pressure.

That was Lennox’s gift when he was at his best.

He didn’t just plan dates.

He built experiences that told her he saw her.

The woman who loved food because she knew hunger. The woman who loved wine because complexity didn’t scare her. The woman who needed beauty but distrusted spectacle. The woman who enjoyed being desired but needed to know desire could still wait for consent, timing, and softness.

By the time the final glasses were cleared and Knox sent them home with a small box of cornbread crisps “for later,” Lane felt loose and luminous.

Outside, night had settled over the vineyard. Lanterns lined the walkway. Crickets sang in the dark grass. The air smelled like herbs.

Lennox walked beside her, his hand brushing hers once, then twice. Lane sighed and slipped her fingers through his.

“Needy,” she said.

“Accurate,” he acknowledged.

She slid into the car, letting the satin whisper against her thighs with dark green toes peeking from black straps. Her gold jewelry warm against her skin. Lennox stood there for one more second, looking at her like the night had only just begun.

Lane lifted a brow. “You coming, or are you going to keep salivating in the parking lot?”

His mouth curved.

“For you?” he said. “Both.”

She laughed despite herself as he shut the door and they pulled away from Olive and Oak, watching the vineyard disappear behind them. Lane realized Winston Hills was already doing something dangerous.

It was making her feel as if love, in all its wholeness, could be a destination. Not just a thing she visited by accident. Not just a thing she stumbled into when exhaustion lowered her defenses.

Love was a place she could choose.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DAHLIA + LAVENDER

Lane hated admitting how perfect dinner had ben because it gave Lennox too much ammunition, but there was no other word for it. Olive and Oak was culinary love. The cuisine was like a love letter written to one’s palate. Knox Carter-Fairfax had fed them food that breathed seduction while Dana’s wine pairings had left Lane warm and giddy, open to believing life could be generous without demanding blood in exchange.

The food had been enough to make her emotional. The wine had been enough to make her giggle against the rim of her glass.

But Lennox?

Lennox had ruined her. He’d sat across from her all night in that dark green shirt, watching her. It was as if every bite she took was a private performance created solely for him. His eyes had followed her every movement. He bit his lip as he watched tongue lick her lips after every bite she took. He groaned watching the curve of her throat when she swallowed wine. The way she hummed when something tasted too good to be polite about. His undivided attention was deliberate enough for Lane to know her man was one breath away from committing lewd and lascivious acts in the restaurant.