Page 46 of Wine & Dine

“Perhaps I am a Wizard, after all,” I joke.

“Perhaps.” She sighs. Actually, I’m more cowardly Lion because I want to tell her how I feel but won’t. I’m afraid to share my thoughts and my heart. Dolores already holds them both, but when she goes home, she’ll take them with her, and I can’t handle that pain again.

+ + +

The next morning, the questions arrive as we have breakfast on a balcony overlooking the vineyard.

“You brought me to a place where you proposed to someone.” She isn’t judging me but questioning the rationale.

“I told you last night. I want to scope out the place for ideas.”

She nods, not convinced. I hold her hand on the table, lazily stroking my thumb over the back of her knuckles. I can’t seem to let her go. We had sex again this morning. Morning wood. Hard and fast, we lay on our sides with her back to my chest. A man could get used to waking up to that every day.

“So when do we begin?”

As if on cue, Sofie enters the balcony. She’s a medical doctor in the valley, but her grandparents own this place. I learned after my attempt to purchase it that the vineyard is near and dear to her heart, and she wanted to keep it for her retirement. She’s only twentysomething, so she has a long time to go, but the comment sparked the thought for myself. What would I do next? When I grow tired of the hustle of other people’s companies, what would I have for me?

Like Dolores mentioned, I already have Fox Investors, but I’ve always been someone who wanted more. More money. More business. More anything. When I look over at Dolores speaking with Sofie, I realize the more I may be missing doesn’t come with a price tag. The more I might be searching for may be something money cannot buy.

Huh.

Sofie explains our tour guide will be Raphael, a sixty-nine-year-old man, who clearly has the hots for Dolores. If he doesn’t stop flirting with her, I’m going to be charged with harming an elder. She giggles and teases him in return, which only encourages him. It’s a lesson in her management skills—she’s good with people. She told me her diner caters to all the locals. Old men on Saturday mornings. Ladies playing Bunco on Tuesday evenings. Her Thursday night special of chicken salad. Dolores has an easy way about her. Being so secluded at her brother’s place, I haven’t seen her interact much with others. It’s fascinating to watch her until there are one too many winks from Raphael.

“Time for the vineyard,” I snap. We toured the winery, but a golf cart ride through the vines is another part of our day. Raphael offers to drive, allowing Dolores to sit next to him, but I object.

“I’ll drive. You direct.” Raphael sits next to me, and Dolores sits behind us. With his attention better focused, I begin to have my questions answered. The time it takes for a vine to produce. Conditions. Weather. Land. It’s all stuff I’ve researched, and many days it makes me miss my granddad as he’d understand it all better than I do.

We stop in the center of the vineyard where a small table is set up with wine samples. Dolores gushes over each taste while Raphael explains how to twirl a glass, then sniff and sip. She flushes by the time we finish, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright. I want to make love to her with this look on her face.

When we return to the main resort, we find Wally, who’s been hanging out in a barn. The inn doesn’t allow animals inside the hotel but has a pen of sorts in a heated room in one of the outbuildings. Wally looks like he’s been pampered, but he jumps to his feet when he hears Dolores’s voice.

“Where’s my spoiled Wally?” she coos, and his tail thumps. His heart belongs to her like mine. We decide to walk back through the vines, Wally racing up the path as we discuss what we’ve learned. Dolores loops her arm with mine, occasionally resting her head on my shoulder.

I’m not certain how long we walk before we discover a river and a small sandy beach area. Dolores and I stop, and she stares at the streaming water.

“This reminds me of home,” she says, her arms crossing over her middle.

“You don’t talk much about it.” I throw a twig for Wally, but he doesn’t chase it. Instead, he collapses by a tree, panting from the long walk.

“There isn’t much to tell. Blue Ridge is a small town. My father was the mayor, but he was a terrible human being.”

Holy crap. I didn’t know her family was in politics. Her brother mentioned how he didn’t get along with his dad, who died sometime while he was on the road being a rock star.

“The town supported him because that’s what small towns do. He held a position of power, but people didn’t respect him. He cheated on my mother. He beat Denton.”

Fuck. “Did he ever touch you?”

“Not with his fist.”

“People suck,” I mutter. My father left us when my little sister was born. The only father figure I had was Granddad, but I wouldn’t trade him for the world.

“We lived on the Lane. Mountain Spring Lane. A dead-end strip of gravel road with three exclusive homes. Daddy wanted to be part of the history of Blue Ridge, although the Harringtons and the Conrads on either side of our house were old families. Original settlers or something like that.” She sighs. “Anyway, a river edged our properties. The water was cold.” She chuckles, still lost in her memories.

“Do you miss it?” I hold my breath as I ask.

“I miss the diner and some of the people. It’s the only place I’ve ever known, so in my heart, I miss the familiarity. But I don’t miss the lonely memories I have of my parents.” Her head rolls, and she looks at me. I love when she stares into my eyes because it’s as if she’s giving me her soul. I reach for her hand and tug her down next to me. She lands with a thump on the ground.

“Ow.” She blends the interjection with her laughter. Reaching around her back, I nudge her to scoot between my legs. With my chin on her shoulder, I watch the water flow in the river.