Summer in Napa (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) (18 page)

“I mean, if you don’t want me to, I understand,” he backpedaled.

“No. That would be great.” She blushed, actually blushed, and he felt like a freaking hero.

Shit.
Marc took a step back, pulling the leash as he went. “Well, we didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lexi rested her hand on the door, looking ready to give another excuse to turn down his offer, one that he would happily accept, when Wingman went to work. He waddled over and dropped himself on Lexi’s foot, his tail slapping her shin. He looked up at her with those big brown eyes and panted a little harder for added effect.

Everything in Marc stilled. He could tell by the way Lexi ruffled Wingman behind the ears that she was going to give in and he would get that walk through the park. And when it was over he’d be in deep shit, because Marc finally understood why Gabe would blow off a day of beer and football to go for a walk in the park with his wife.

“I guess fresh air would help me focus. Wake me up. Plus, I had four éclairs this morning.” She smiled, but Marc couldn’t smile back. He was too busy holding his breath. “To be clear, though, I don’t walk, I don’t dally, and I don’t like talking while pounding the pavement. If we are doing this, it’s a flat-out run—”

On cue, Wingman lost it. He started barking and jumped right for Lexi, yanking the leash out of Marc’s hand. He was pretty sure the dog was going to take Lexi down and made a move to grab for her when she held out her palms and simply said, “Sit.”

And wouldn’t you know it, the damn dog sat. Completely still, except for the quivering tip of his tail, he stared at his new mistress, awaiting her next command.

But the command that came out was directed at Marc. “Five miles. No coffee, and you have to help me cart all of my stuff over to the tasting on Wednesday night.”

And like any obedient mutt, Marc agreed. Both he and Wingman watched in awe as Lexi made her way up the stairs, that perfect ass swaying saucily with every step she took.

“Give me five,” Marc said to Wingman after Lexi disappeared around the corner. Wingman sat back on his haunches and pawed Marc’s palm. “We got us a girlfriend
and
a date.”

“Are you dating my brother?” Abby accused by way of greeting. She said it loud enough that it carried to every customer within a three-booth radius. And since it was prime time at the farmers’ market, it reached the maximum number of listeners.

“Classic French pastry?” Lexi said loudly, forcing a salesgirl smile.

She strategically avoided her friend’s glare, instead paying particular attention to the arrangement of mouthwatering éclairs, fluffy and custard filled and drizzled with enough chocolate to make her forget that it was only eight in the morning, on a Tuesday, and she had already been up for more than four hours.

“Two for five dollars,” she said, licking a glob of filling from her finger. As heavenly as it was, it wasn’t going to save her from an inquisition.

Today the DeLuca Darling wore distressed snug-fit jeans, a bright-teal top, and enough accusation to fill three churches. She also wore a slicked-up ponytail, minimal makeup, and a glare that cut through her designer sunglasses. Abby might look like an innocent coed, but even at five foot one she could be intimidating as hell. “Are. You. Dating. My. Brother? Yes or no.”

“No. Yes.” Lexi sucked her lips inside her mouth to keep from saying anything else. She’d promised Marc that their relationship would stay a secret, well, the pretend part, anyway. She’d also made a blood oath with Abby senior year, after daring Abby to steal the school mascot and blame it on the rival high school’s quarterback, promising her that no one would find out, only to have photographic proof of Abby’s crime end up on the front page of the school paper,
that she would never lie to her again. And she hadn’t. Ever. And she didn’t want to start now.

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s a Facebook status, not an answer. Is. Marco. Your boyfriend?”

They stared at each other for a tense moment, neither willing to cave. One night, in the tenth grade, they had had a heated discussion over which was the hottest boy band. Neither had been willing to concede, so they’d glared at each other until the sun came up.

“Fine, he’s my boyfriend,” Lexi started, then corrected herself. “But not my
boy
friend.”

“What does that even mean?” Abby threw her hands up in frustration and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out—except for a high gasp.

Clasping her cheeks as though it would keep her head from shaking back and forth, Abby took a step backward with every word. “No. No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. You’re the only friend I’ve ever had who doesn’t go stupid around my brothers.”

Lexi rolled her eyes. “I’m not going stupid. And we aren’t even dating…really.”

“Wow, thanks, Lex. That clarifies things. Really, it does. So clear, in fact, that next time Natasha corners me at Picker’s Produce demanding to know if you’re sleeping with one of my brothers, I’ll know exactly how to answer.”

Three ladies in neon sun visors and armed with big canvas bags looked up from the stand one over. The pudgiest of the group, who just so happened to be Nora Kincaid, set down the locally grown honey and moved on to inspect the baskets of organic squash. Not because she had a sudden craving
for zucchini bread, Lexi mused, but because it was as close as she could get to eavesdrop without looking too obvious.

“Will you please lower your voice,” Lexi hissed. She grabbed Abby’s arm and dragged her around the table. After shoving Abby into a plastic chair and taking the closest metal folding one, Lexi leaned in and whispered, “She asked that? Really? When?”

“Yes. Ten minutes ago. While my nonna was two feet away trying to barter for a better price on the fava beans.” Abby did not whisper.

Nora leaned closer and pulled out her smartphone, elbowing an eggplant in the process and sending it crashing to the sidewalk.

Lexi waved politely and then turned so that her back was to the pedestrian-filled street. In St. Helena, farmers’ markets were serious business, and if Lexi wanted to discuss her business without it becoming the town’s business or winding up on YouTube, then she had to keep it down. “Wait. What were you doing at Picker’s? You’re supposed to be supervising the remodel.”

Lexi looked behind her, squinting through the back flap of the white farmers’ market tent toward the bakery. Over the heads of a group soccer moms whose faces were pressed against the windows, Lexi could just about make out some scaffolding and a ladder. What she couldn’t miss were the sounds of hammers and drills that had started up when the sun rose.

“I am,” Abby defended. “I went to get breakfast for the crew.”

“They’re installing a second kitchen in a bakery. Why didn’t they just eat danish and muffins?”

“Because I needed space, okay.”
Now
Abby was whispering. She stole a glance toward the bakery right as Hard-Hammer Tanner slung a two-by-four over his shoulder and happened to look out the window—and directly at them. The soccer moms waved. Abby gasped, then ducked, then gasped again. She was so bent over in the chair she was practically hugging her knees. “Crap, crap, crap. Did he see me? Is he still looking?”

Yup
, Lexi wanted to say as she waved at a smiling Tanner, who, ignoring his adoring fans, waved back. The man was enormous. She had always thought Marc was tall and built like a god, but Tanner looked a good two inches taller than Marc with at least thirty more pounds of solid muscle on him—and all in the right places. What also surprised her was how graceful he was for such a big guy.

After a few moments had passed, Lexi said, “You can come up now. He’s on the ladder. Probably wondering why his design manager is flinging herself on the floor.”

“I’m not flinging…” Her eyes darkened with suspicion. “Stop changing the subject. We are talking about you and my brother.” She sighed, and her face went soft, almost hurt. “Are you sleeping with Marco, Lex? And if so, why didn’t you tell me?”

Lexi considered fanning the air. It was so thick with guilt it made it hard to breathe. When she and Marc had made that promise to keep quiet about their deal, it seemed so simple. She never imagined it would put her in a situation where she’d have to be disloyal to her best friend. “Look, I am not sleeping with him.”
Shit
, that was a lie. “Well, I mean we slept together, but—”

“Oh God.” Abby covered her mouth. “I think I just threw up a little.”

The idea of sex with Marc made Lexi queasy too, but not the kind of queasy Abby was feeling. “I got drunk, my date got handsy, so Marc took me home. He crashed at my place to make sure I was okay, and he fell asleep in my bed. With me. But nothing happened.”

“Then why is everyone saying they saw you two running in the park?”

Right. That. “Marc asked me if I wanted to go on a run, so we did. And it was fun.” It was better than fun. It had been one of the best mornings she could remember in forever. They didn’t stop for coffee, but they sat on her back porch and shared a pint of caramel ice cream from Picker’s. They talked about nothing important, laughed when Wingman farted, and scooted closer when Chad happened to walk by. Then he left and, as promised, Lexi had spent the entire day trying to make a baked pork chop interesting. “He makes me laugh. End of story.”

Abby’s eyes narrowed and her lips went thin. “Then this isn’t some kind of twisted payback at Jeff for being a total douche? I know I told you to stick it to him, but if you’re using my brother because he is Jeff’s best friend, that’s just wrong.”

Her friend’s words stung. She hadn’t pursued Marc. He had followed her. And she hadn’t said yes to their pretend relationship because of his friendship with her ex; if anything, that had been her biggest concern. But if her best friend came to that humiliating conclusion, then what would everyone else think?

“Marc was my friend too, before Jeffery and I even started dating.” Not sure what else to say, Lexi went for honest. At least as honest as she could get without betraying Marc’s trust. “I thought it was weird at first too. But Marc makes me feel good about myself. We have fun. He gives me the space I need to cook and figure things out. It’s no big deal.”

Abby didn’t look convinced. “Okay, so what if I were to say Marco is one of the hottest bachelors in the valley?”

“So?” Lexi sat back in a chair and shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. So Marc was hot. So were a bazillion other guys. Granted, a bazillion other guys didn’t make her undies catch fire every time they looked at her.

Nope. Only one guy had managed that. Not that she would admit that to Abby.

“Uh-huh.” Abby sat back and mimicked Lexi’s body language, only her friend actually pulled off laid-back and unaffected. “And if I were to warn you that Marc is a commitmentphobe playboy with the attention span and life goals of a horny teen.”

“Why would you say that?” Lexi sat forward, unaffected going right out the tent. “Marc may have been wild in high school, but people change, Abs. I mean, only a person with some serious focus and talent could single-handedly restore the Napa Grand like he did, not to mention that he is the one responsible for bringing the Showdown back to its original glory after two decades.”

That was exactly why, blood oath or not, Lexi would never say anything to Abby. Marc had a hard enough time proving to his siblings that he had his life together. Nope, she wasn’t going to let them use their arrangement against Marc.

“I think it sucks that your family is constantly—”

Abby’s lips turned up a little at the right corner, and Lexi snapped her mouth shut. This was a bad sign. Her friend made that face when she was scheming. And whenever Abby schemed, Lexi somehow ended up with an egg-white facial.

“Go on, I’m fascinated.” Abby kicked back in the chair, her shoulders completely at ease, and gave an encouraging—and totally patronizing—wave of the hand. “My family is constantly what?”

“Nothing.” Lexi stood and, afraid she would say something to rat herself out, walked back to the table, where she arranged and rearranged the danishes—three times.

“Oh, that sounded like a whole lot more than nothing.” Abby slid up to the table and helped herself to a danish. The raspberry-and-peach-filled one, right in the center, which forced Lexi to rearrange—again.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Instead of taking a bite, Abby licked the icing off of the top. “Then I won’t tell you that you have a huge chunk of melted chocolate on your cheek and that Marco is headed this way.”

“What?” Lexi whispered, her hand automatically going to her right cheek as she craned her head and…

Sure enough, walking down Main Street, dressed in black slacks and a blue button-up and looking like the poster boy for Bad Boys of Wall Street, the hubba-hubba edition, was her man. Well, her fake man. His strides were smooth and laid-back, and although he stopped to talk with Mr. Craver, the Meat in Picker’s Produce, Meats, and More, she could feel his attention zeroed in on her. Her eyes were fixed on Marc when both men looked up and over at her. They both wore knowing smiles, but nothing about Marc’s expression felt
fake. Neither did the way her breath caught or that silly little flip her stomach seemed to have become so fond of recently.