Be Mine Forever (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) (16 page)

“Things happen. People make their own choices, Trey. It wasn’t your fault.”

Something raw and vulnerable flashed in his eyes at her statement. It could have been the best thing or the worst thing to say in that moment, she didn’t know, but something between them shifted.

“And to answer your earlier statement, you do impress me. Everything about you impresses me.” The way he cared for his family, took a genuine interest in her and her son’s lives. How he managed to make her feel safe and challenged and adored all at the same time.

He cocked a brow and folded his arms over his chest.

Sara became aware of two things simultaneously. First, the movement caused the thin material of his shirt to pull taut across his firm pecs and bulging arms and, second, he’d had some trouble with the spray nozzle because the front of his clothes were soaked to the point of translucency, sticking to his body and making her wonder just how far down the water dripped.

And, once again, Heather was right. Sara needed the kind of happiness that went beyond being a mom—the sweating and gasping-for-air kind of happiness that only Trey could provide.

Trey cleared his throat and, great, the amused look on his face spoke volumes. She was caught checking out his goods.

“Let me help you.”

“Okay,” Sara breathed. Trey didn’t just fill out a pair of slacks to perfection, he was nice and funny and made Sara want things she thought long ago lost. And he was hot.

So hot she was already thinking that Friday was the perfect night, if she could make it that long. Cooper would be at Roman’s, the house would be blessedly empty, and they’d have three hours after her last class and before she’d have to pick him up. Three hours was enough time, right?

God, she needed to get her legs waxed and stop by the Bolder Holder for something adventurous. Maybe even get some candles for her room. Unless of course, she thought, looking around at the crayon pictures on the refrigerator and the Batman action figure stuffed in the fruit basket, he’d want to meet at his suite.

“I can pick up Coop after school and bring him home, then just finish my work here. I mean if that’s okay with you.” He shrugged. “If not, I can work at night when I get home.”

“What?” she asked, because how did they go from sex to Cooper’s schedule?

“What, what?” He looked just as lost as she did.

“I was talking about Friday,” she explained.

“Oh, well, Roman said that Coop can still go to movie night since it is an unofficial Mites gathering, but he can’t return to hive meetings until a
week
from Friday. So I figure, until then, Coop and I can hang out and do guy stuff while you’re at work.”

“You want to
manny
my son?” she asked. Was she hearing him right? Trey, man-of-the-world, wanted to spend the next two weeks sitting her kid?

“I want to help you,” he amended.

That should have been the end of the discussion, because having a short fling with him was one thing, mixing Cooper up in this situation was a bad mommy move. Then she thought about the way Cooper’s face lit up when Trey said he’d stay for pizza, and how proud he’d been introducing Trey to his hive at the race.

It was obvious in the way he watched other dads and sons around town that Cooper needed a male figure in his life. And here was the perfect specimen of one, offering to fill the role. A role that she was sure had an expiration date.

She didn’t know how much Trey traveled, but based on his living arrangement, she’d guess he’d raked up some pretty hefty frequent-flyer miles.

“You’re going to be busy with the Gala and your new classes, and with Heather being gone, well, I figure he’d rather hang here with me than spend all day at the studio.”

That was the understatement of the year. Cooper would rather hang with Trey than drive around the track in Indianapolis with Batman as his co-pilot. She knew what it was like to spend every day before and after school in a studio, doing homework while her mom taught class. And she didn’t want that for Cooper, especially since he was still upset over getting suspended from Mighty Mites.

“Pretend I say yes, what do you get out of this arrangement?” Sara asked, because she knew what she’d get out of this: short-term help that she desperately needed. What she didn’t understand was how Trey would benefit.

“I get to work in a place that my nonna and sisters-in-law can’t find me, which means I might actually stand a chance at meeting my deadlines, and I get uninterrupted access to the hottest dance teacher in St. Helena.”

“Are you saying we barter? Mannying for lessons?” She walked toward him, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor.

“Yup.” His gaze slid down her body, lingering on all the right places and sending her into sexual meltdown. “Guy-time in exchange for some woman-time later.”

Stopping right in front of him, she looked up into those deep brown eyes and stuck out her hand. “Deal?”

Trey took her hand, but he didn’t shake it. Instead he held it palm up and placed a kiss right in the center, his eyes never leaving hers. “Deal.”

“You know,” she said a little breathless, “I would have given you lessons, even if you didn’t offer to sit Cooper.”

“Even after today?”

“Especially after today,” she whispered.

Trey studied her face, so intensely that she suddenly felt shy. Sara, widow and a single mom, would have looked away, but the new Sara, the one who wanted some excitement and was tired of being alone, stared right back.

Trey shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?” She had several ideas, and if he didn’t say something, she wasn’t above listing them.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, the word sliding over her skin. “Talking’s never been my strong suit, I’m more into showing.”

Just like a man, Sara thought, but that was all she could process before his mouth came down on hers, and focusing on anything other than the way his lips languidly explored hers was impossible. Not with the way he was teasing and tasting—and then his tongue got involved and thinking wasn’t an option. All she could do was feel. And, God, it felt good. He felt good.

Another thing that felt good? The way his hands gripped her waist, spinning her around so that she was trapped between the counter and a solid package of muscle and heat. Then things got out of hand, or maybe it was that his hands knew all the things her body craved, because he was touching her as though he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t decide what he wanted to touch first.

Sara had some specific requests, one was north and the other just a few inches south, but she was too caught up in his body to articulate. So she decided to take a page from his book and show instead of tell.

Her hands slid down his chest and over his abs and were just about to reach the promised land when he shifted and pulled back enough to look at her.

Not sure how to progress, she tightened her fingers—which happened to be wrapped around his belt—and tried to speak. Not an easy task when she’d just had the best kiss. Of. Her. Life.

“Why did you stop?”

Not that she was open to rounding third base with Cooper asleep just down the hall, but a few more nibbles would have been nice.

He rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming out in harsh bursts. “Because I like you.”

“You’re stopping because you like me?”

“Yeah,” he began, then shook his head. It was good to know that she wasn’t the only one confused. “A lot. And, don’t get me wrong, seeing you naked is all I can think about. In fact, seeing you naked ranks third on my bucket list.”

“What’s number one?”

“Seeing you naked in my bed. Often,” he said in a low, gravelly voice that sent her nipples into party mode. “Which is closely followed by seeing you naked on that pole.”

Before she could comment, or tell him that she wanted that too, he tried to back up and put space between them. So she tightened her grip and held him to her.

With a low sigh, he gently cupped her face between his palms and looked her in the eyes. “Before we go there though, I need you to know that I don’t do permanent. So you
need
to be sure that you’re good with casual, short-term. Because that’s what I am, Sara.”

“I can barely think past what Cooper is having for lunch tomorrow, let alone a serious relationship,” she admitted, although the idea of an end date had her heart spinning. Or maybe that was the idea of her naked with him on that pole. “I already did the whole love and happily-ever-after track. I’m not looking for that. At least not right now.”

He studied her, really studied her, then as if he still wasn’t convinced that she understood, he said, “I’m in town until the end of February, beginning of March at the latest, and I would love to spend that time with you. But then I’m moving to Italy and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Italy?” she asked, giving herself a moment to process that bit of news. “Your brothers are moving you to Italy?”

“I’m moving myself. I needed a home base and Italy seemed the best fit.” There was something about the way he said it, as though Italy was the logical choice, only he wasn’t sure if it was the right choice.

“St. Helena wouldn’t be a good fit for a home base?”

He shrugged a shoulder, but there was nothing casual about the expression on his face. “I can’t stay here forever, and home is a little crowded right now. Plus most of the clients who need my attention are in Europe. It makes sense.”

No it didn’t. Not to her. She’d kill to have a family like his: loving, supportive, so intertwined that no one ever felt alone. And yet he was just walking away.

“If that doesn’t work with what you had in mind,” he said quietly, “I understand. It won’t change the promise I made to you, and I will still help out with Coop. I just wanted to be honest, because, well, I like you.”

And weren’t those three of the most romantic words she’d ever heard. Unable to help herself, Sara wrapped her arms around his middle and held on tight. “I like you too.”

Already too much
, she thought. Trey was no longer the sexy stranger who was exciting to flirt with and made her laugh. He was the guy who had helped her son carve a car from wood, and cleaned her kitchen just because. He was also the only person in her life to be honest and up-front about where they stood.

Trey’s arms slid around her, his fingers doing some sliding of their own, down her spine to rest temptingly low on the small of her back.

“Does that mean yes?” he whispered against her neck, his hands taking that final plunge south and cupping her butt. And if she had any lingering questions about how serious he was, the hard proof pressed against her stomach. “Please tell me that it means yes.”

Sara wasn’t sure what she had expected. Maybe a hot fling with a steamy send-off when Trey traveled for business, then they’d pick up when he got back. Or not. But there would have been the choice.

But Italy? As in a permanent move? Could she do it?

The people in Sara’s life never managed to go the distance. Whether by choice or death, it seemed as though she was determined to live in a cycle of love and loss, which always ended with her going it alone. First her dad, then her grandmother, and finally Garrett.

At least with Trey, he was being up-front about the relationship, clearly stating that there was a hard stop, an end that she could see coming and prepare for.

“It means I have to think about it,” she said and Trey exhaled so hard she felt sorry for the guy. He was tense, rock hard, and ready to go, and she’d just slammed on the brakes.

Instead of pouting or taking that as a cue to cut out, Trey’s hands turned gentle, understanding, and he pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. “Fair enough.”

She relaxed against him and took in a deep breath. He smelled like pizza and dish soap and sexy man. And he felt like he belonged—in her kitchen and in her arms. Maybe not forever, maybe not even tomorrow, maybe this hug was all it would ever be.

But right here, right now, he was hers.

CHAPTER 11

T
hree days later, Trey pushed through the revolving door of the Napa Grand, pausing to enjoy the crisp air. It was a perfect winter day. The storm had finally passed, leaving behind the fresh scent of rain and rich soil, while Main Street, which looked like it had been hit with a Valentine’s Day confetti blaster, was bustling with locals and a few courageous tourists.

Old wine barrels lined either side of the street, overflowing with bright-red camellias and clusters of pink pansies. Heart-shaped fliers hung from every storefront announcing the Winter Garden Gala was only a week away. And his brothers were still AWOL.

True to her word, Sara had made time for a private lesson each night when she came home. And true to his word, Trey hadn’t pressed her for an answer on where they stood in the getting-naked department. Instead they’d had civil conversations about Cooper’s homework, the performance for the Gala, how his interviews were going—anything to avoid the fact that both of them were solely focused on getting down and dirty.

Sara couldn’t even say the word “pole” without blushing.

Trey shifted the case of wine to his other arm and made his way toward Petal Pusher. The Garden Society was having an impromptu meeting to finalize the wine selection for the Gala, or so ChiChi claimed, and since he still was officially the Ryo wine rep, it was his duty to go.

He could have argued that Abby was coming home early next week, giving her ample time before the Gala, and could therefore handle it herself. Or that his presence had more to do with hijacking Deidra’s secret meeting than wine selection. But ChiChi was determined, and Sara’s cute little backside had shimmied into the flower shop not too long ago, so he decided to play the doting grandson, packed up a generous selection of Ryo’s best, and went to work.

Opening the front door, Trey rounded the heart-shaped pansy display and made his way toward the sunroom and the sound of arguing. With a deep breath, he stepped through the French doors and found what could only be called, Family Feud: the Mad Hatter Edition.

A long table stretched the length of the room, covered in a red seasonal themed cloth with coordinating arrangements going down the center. Trays of finger sandwiches and little tea pots with matching cups were strategically placed for maximum affect. But instead of a bunch of old ladies nibbling crumpets while talking about their grandkids, the table worked as a dividing line, with Deidra and her supporters on one side, and ChiChi and her comrades on the other. At the head of the table, barely visible over a vase of roses with dead twigs sticking out of it, stood Sara.

“Now, one more word like that and I will put you all in time out,” she threatened and Trey found himself smiling.

The normally patient Sara was frazzled, and she looked like she meant business.

“But she’s trying to make this the Deidra show,” ChiChi argued, standing up, her hand strangling a linen napkin.

“I am just saying that the winner should receive the honor of having the first dance. Alone,” Deidra countered.

“This isn’t a wedding,” Sara reasoned but no one was listening.

“The first dance is the finalists’ waltz,” ChiChi yelled, her face going red.

“Why are you so scared, Chiara?” Now it was Deidra’s turn to stand. “Afraid that your pansies aren’t—”

That was all she got out before Pricilla shoved one of those tiny sandwiches without the crust into Deidra’s mouth, ending the argument. Deidra’s eyes went wide with outrage and she started mumbling a blue streak of accusations. Even though the mouth full of bread and cream cheese made it difficult to understand what she was saying, the intent behind the threat was clear.

Sara let out a long, tired breath. By the looks of things, they must have been going at this for a while now. And were getting nowhere fast.

“Sorry, dear,” Pricilla said quietly. “But a person shouldn’t talk about a woman’s dead pansies like that.”

And there went the sign of the cross.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Trey interrupted, flashing his most charming grin. It worked wonders on women and had an 89.9 percent effective rate with disarming the retired sector. And if that didn’t work, well then he had wine.

Everyone in the room went silent and looked his way. Sara, however, didn’t just look his way, she looked him up and down, taking in every inch and releasing a little sigh when she met his gaze.

He’d take that sigh and raise her a moan. She looked great, better than great. Today she was in a fitted tank top that was the same color as her skin and did crazy things for Trey’s imagination. She also wore a flowy skirt—light yellow—that barely covered her butt, and blessedly tight leggings that hid nothing.

Trey loved her dance skirts, she owned one in every color. All of them were sheer, and all of them had played a special role in his fantasies as of late.

Best of all, she looked happy to see him. Something that made him flex as he set the case of wine on the table.

“Thank God you’re here,” she said, and something else altogether flexed. “Wait, why are you here?”

Not as good as the first, but better than if she were to ask him to leave. He tapped the top of the wine box. “I come bearing wine.”

“But the tasting was scheduled for Tuesday,” Deidra said. “Today is the tea party.”

“My mistake. I saw everyone gathering and assumed it was for today.” Trey upped the watt-factor of his smile and shrugged. “I can come back.”

Mrs. Moberly, the town librarian, looked at her still-full cup of tea and grimaced, before zeroing in on the wine. “I think there is room in the agenda.”

“What agenda? I got invited to a party, not a meeting. And I think this young gentleman just brought the party,” Connie Larson, the rescue half of St. Helena Hardware and Refurbish Rescue, said, her gaze landing on Trey.

He sent her a little wink.

She smiled and pulled out the seat right next to hers in offering. “Why don’t you and that box come over here? I’m sure we’d all love to see what’s in the package. Right, ladies?”

Excited murmurs filled the room and Sara let out a little laugh. She had a great laugh. It made her eyes sparkle and his mind go fuzzy.

“Thank you,” he said, picking up the box and making his way to the front, right next to Sara. Mrs. Larson let out a disappointed
tut
but rallied when he turned his back to the room and set out the bottles one by one. Taking his time to line them up, bending over when needed, he smiled when the women started commenting on his “display.” Mission accomplished.

Turning back to face his audience, he locked gazes with the host of this non-meeting and asked, “Deidra, would you mind helping me out? I’m in need of an assistant for the tasting and since Sara is heading out, I was hoping you’d volunteer.”

ChiChi mumbled something crude and crossed her arms.

Deidra beamed.

And Sara blinked up at him surprised, and relieved. “I’m leaving?”

“Yes, dear, you are,” Deidra said, hands on Sara’s back about to usher her through the door and out of the way, when Trey intercepted.

Draping an arm over Sara’s shoulder, he pulled her to his side, noticing that her breathing had taken on a labored effect. “But before she leaves, I want to say how thankful I was when I heard she had agreed to step in as Entertainment Coordinator for this year’s Gala. Just thinking of my niece, of how excited she is to participate in one of the most treasured St. Helena events, reminds me of how special our town is.”

All of the board members exchanged a guilty look and Deidra scowled. Wanting to make sure that Sara wouldn’t lose the stipend, he added, “So if there are no more questions for Sara, I say we let her get back to teaching this new generation of St. Helenians how important participation and community service are.”

When no one spoke, except to thank Sara for her time and effort, Trey said, “Deidra why don’t you set up the glasses while I walk Sara out?”

Trey didn’t wait for an answer, just like he didn’t waste any time hustling Sara through the door. It wouldn’t take much before the grannies found another feud-worthy topic that he’d have to arbitrate. Just like it wouldn’t take much to fray his already unraveling control. Especially when Sara stood there, looking up at him like he’d saved her universe—again—and that his intentions had nothing to do with getting him laid.

Okay, so maybe it did have more to do with getting laid. There was a warm quality about Sara that tugged at his chest, drew him in, even when he knew it was better if he walked away.

“That was incredible,” she breathed, her eyes lit with excitement. Trey closed the French doors behind them. “You opened your mouth and started talking, and before I knew what was happening, they were all rapt, too mesmerized to even talk, let alone argue. It was as though you knew exactly what they needed to hear so they could feel comfortable saying okay.”

Trey shrugged, not sure how to take her comment. Was she saying he was good with words, or a smooth talker?

Then she placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him through soft eyes, and he was too busy feeling to think about anything.

“You have a good heart, Trey.” And damn if that didn’t make his chest tighten. “And here I thought your plan was to get them so drunk that we could roll them home, and when they woke up, they’d be too hungover to argue.”

“No, my plan was to…”

Was to what?

He couldn’t remember. She licked her lips and dropped her gaze to his mouth and, poof, not a damn clue as to what he was saying.

He knew what he should be doing though. Saying his good-byes and seeing her to the door before he screwed this up. He promised he’d give her time to think on things, and even though he knew with one well-practiced move, her answer would be a big resounding yes, it wouldn’t be yes to the kind of guy who deserved the hero worship she gave him moments ago.

Only she swayed closer, her hips gently bumping his and, again with the poof, he didn’t have a damn clue as to what he was feeling. Except that it was crazy, and scary, and so right he had to kiss her. A little brush of the lips to show her how special she was.

So he did and she kissed him back. But gentle went out the window when she gave a throaty moan and ran her hands up his chest and into his hair. Without breaking contact, she walked him backward until a wall or a shrub hit his back and she pressed herself tightly against his front.

Always up for spontaneity, he went with it.

Sara tugged his head down, gripping his hair and—
Jesus
—that mouth of hers was so soft and generous, he almost forgot that there was the entire St. Helena grapevine right on the other side of that door. And that Sara still hadn’t made up her mind.

He wanted to help her make up her mind. And quick. As long as her mind was in sync with his, then come tonight, when Coop was at movie night, Trey would be having his own private party under the stars. With his own personal dance teacher. Because her sexy little moans and flimsy tank straps were driving him insane. One tug and the entire top would fall to her waist and he’d—

Be. That. Guy.

With one last kiss, he pulled back and found breathing uncomfortable. Hell, standing was uncomfortable.

“We’re stopping again,” she whispered, looking up at him with enough heat to scorch.

“Unless you’re done thinking,” he said and when she looked away he added, “Then yeah, we’re stopping.”

“If you put your hand here and move your hips like this, she’ll be putty in your hands,” Sara said, showing Charles how to dip his secret crush—aka ChiChi—and not hurt his bad leg.

Charles tried it with Sara in his arms and the man actually grinned.

“She’ll feel like the belle of the ball,” she added after Charles righted her.

Charles had grown on her. His gruff, hard exterior covered the tender heart he kept hidden from the world—and his family. In fact, he was fast becoming her second-favorite student. Her first was Trey, and the lessons they shared would have to go down as the hottest dance classes in the history of the world. He never once pushed for her to hurry up and decide, or tried to seduce an answer out of her. But the way he looked at her let her know that as soon as she was ready, they’d get down to business. And when they did, it would be intense and consuming, things Sara hadn’t felt since Garrett. And that made her nervous.

“What if she was taller than me?” Charles asked, staring at the mirror as though it was staring back.

That gave her pause, and a stomachache. ChiChi was definitely
not
taller than him. If anything she’d come up to his chin. Deidra in heels? That was another story.

“How tall are we talking?” Sara asked, crossing her arms.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing his chin and still avoiding eye contact.

After a few moments to speculate, he lifted his hand a good two inches over his head, “About yea-high. And stubborn. I don’t think she’ll take well to being led. Anywhere. Especially from me, but I’d like to be able to make her feel like a princess on her wedding day.”

Sara’s throat closed. She didn’t know the whole story behind Charles’s falling out with his grandkids, but she knew enough to understand that he was lonely and full of regret, and her heart hurt for him. As far as Sara could tell, he didn’t speak to anyone in his family, aside from his sister Lucinda. Although they seemed to spend most of their time arguing.