A Blend of Nero (Vine Valley #3)

Chapter 1

Where the hell is my underwear? I circled the pitch-black living room, trying to remember where I had tossed them. There were a lot of moving body parts earlier as Jessica—or was it Jennifer?—and I stumbled through her Airbnb and to the bedroom. I wasn’t thinking with the right head at the time.

Now I needed to get out of here before she woke up and wanted to talk or cuddle or something else equally horrifying. I wasn’t anything more than a one-night stand, and I made sure to inform every woman I was with, but sometimes… Oh sometimes they thought sex with them would magically change me. And I become the asshole.

I stared at the front door, wishing I could head into the darkness, sacrifice my underwear for the greater good, but I didn’t even have my damn car with me. If I did, I would have free balled it and been halfway home. But no, my dumbass left my means of transportation at my family’s winery.

We’d stumbled in and tripped to the left, so I peered over to that corner. It was too fucking dark, but I wouldn’t risk turning a light on. Light on my feet, I moved closer. Pain radiated up my toe and shot right through my leg.

“Son of—” I bit the words off and silently screamed in my head. Who the hell put a table there? I inhaled, letting the breath settle through me, trying to ignore the pulsating ache.

A ruffling noise broke through the silence, and I whipped around, careful not to plow into the stupid table again. The sound turned to menacing growls. Chills prickled along my neck, and my heart rate picked up a notch.

Definitely didn’t sound like a bear. Not that I expected a bear to be chilling in this Airbnb, but in this area, I couldn’t count it out.

The growls grew, the clack of sharp claws on the hardwood echoed through the dark space.

Fuck this.

I turned my cellphone flashlight on, braced myself to run, and shown the light toward the noise.

Two gleaming eyes glanced at me with a tilted head. You have got to be kidding me.

I hurried over to the Pomeranian that had a death hold on my underwear. With one hand held out, I lowered to his level. “Hey bud,” I said as softly as possible. “Those are mine. Can I have them back?” I took hold of the material and tugged, but this damn dog had the jaw power of a crocodile.

“Let go,” I whispered.

His top lip pulled back, baring his teeth, my poor boxer briefs pinched between his canines. A growl rumbled in his throat, and I could sense a bark.

My hands shot up. “No, no. Don’t do that.”

A stuffed crocodile—go figure—sat to his left. I scooped up the toy and dangled it in front of the fluffy ball of inconvenience. “Wouldn’t you rather have this?” I asked, as if the damn dog could respond. “Come on. Let’s switch.”

I tugged on my underwear and held the crocodile like a peace offering, but Mr. Pomeranian clearly didn’t believe in peace. He was a dictator, and my underwear was the flag he honored and protected.

In one last sad attempt, I waved the crocodile and fell back on my bare ass. The dictator loosened his grip on my underwear and eyed the stuffed animal. Maybe it was pity, or maybe his short puppy attention span kicked in.

Either way, I was back in business. His snout poked up, my underwear dangling from a single tooth. I swiped, throwing the crocodile at his face.

A loud, ear-piercing bark erupted from the bastard's little body, and I jumped up, underwear, jeans, and shoes in hand. A light turned on upstairs, and I bolted out the front door and straight for the tree line.

Fuck, it got cold.

Night surrounded me as I leaned against a tree and pulled the rest of my clothes on. The damn dog left bite holes. Luckily, I had plenty more. And in a few months, Mom would gift me with even more underwear like she did every year since my brothers and I were kids. I could have easily left them behind, but it’s better to leave no traces. That gave the woman an invitation to find me. I didn’t want to be found. I was a stranger passing in the night who they happened to snag, and their reward was the best orgasm of their life.

I slipped into my shoes and closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I wondered if sex was worth all this trouble. Never the same woman twice, always escaping before the sun rose, never experiencing a connection other than pure animalistic pleasure.

Damn right it was.

It was nearing five am, and I should have been out of there hours ago, but I foolishly fell asleep. I blamed the long hours behind the tasting room bar and the extra glass of whiskey I had at Don’s Bistro. I pushed off the tree and headed for the road.

Living in a small rural town, there weren’t a lot of streetlights. Hell, there weren’t any. But luckily for me, I could navigate these roads blindfolded and drunk, and I had many times. Wish I could say it was sex games gone wrong. At least that would be exciting, but really, it was just the product of having two older brothers who liked to fuck with me. They called it survival skills. I called bullshit. I’d never admit now that it definitely came in handy.

A familiar rhythmic hum sounded in the distance. I shook my head and prepared myself. The noise grew louder until it was beside me.

“Hey lover boy, need a lift?” I glanced up the tractor at Albert, the town grump and someone I called a friend. He wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with, but he had been a friend of my grandpa’s, so I knew he couldn’t be all that bad, and I’d been right.

“My feet move faster than that tractor,” I joked.

“Fine.”

The tractor shifted gears, and I jogged beside it, hoisting myself onto the running board. “Thanks,” I said over the engine.

The American flag pin Albert always had secured to his person adorned his plaid shirt. His hat was a reminder to everyone he was a veteran and damn proud of it. “Where’s your car?”

“The winery.”

Albert nodded and continued toward my family’s vineyard.

“What are you doing out this early?” I asked.

“Early?” He shook his head. “Working. Now stop talking.”

Albert wasn’t much of a talker first thing in the morning. Hell, he wasn’t much of a talker most of the time. Only if he had something important to say, or to rip someone a new asshole. He was good at that, and I swore he thrived on those moments.

We drove in silence the rest of the way, and when we got to the parking lot, I jumped down. “Thanks for the lift.”

He grunted, which was more than I expected.

“I’ll have that stuff for you later,” he grumbled.

This year for Albert’s scarecrow display, he wanted to have a Halloween Tree based on Ray Bradbury’s book. When I heard him discussing it with the other veterans, I volunteered to fabricate it. No one knew about my metal work, not even my own family, but once the idea came into my head, I couldn’t let it go. He was going over my sketches, and I was waiting—impatiently—for the approval.

“Sounds good. Always a pleasure seeing you first thing in the morning.”

“One of these days, your dick is going to fall off,” he announced.

“Then we wouldn’t have moments like this, and how sad would that be?”

A wicked smile curved his usually flat lips. “I can’t wait for the day when you meet your match.”

“Never going to happen. I’m going to be single for the rest of my life, just like you.”

Sadness—an emotion I didn’t think Albert was capable of—flashed in his eyes “Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” He tipped his head and headed out of the parking lot, leaving me way too confused for the ass crack of dawn.

There was nothing like a busy Friday night behind the tasting room bar to jumpstart my weekend.

The bottles were flowing, laughter was rich in the air and there were not one but two bachelorette parties. I gave a wink to the woman in the bride sash as I handed her the next tasting in her flight.

She smiled and blew a kiss before returning to her group.

“The sash says bride-to-be in case you didn’t notice,” Lanes, my sister’s best friend joked from her stool. She’d sat there after meeting with my brother Laurent and his fiancée about the cake she was making for their wedding.

“To be, are the keywords there,” I said as I unloaded a rack of freshly cleaned glasses.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her favorite wine, a Sauvignon Blanc that was a little on the dry side. As a cake maker who indulged in confections all day, she preferred something crisper and less sweet.

“I swear you just ask for trouble,” she said, a glint in her eyes.

“Maybe I do.”

After all, I was considered the bad boy amongst my brothers, but what did my parents expect giving me a name like Nero? Sure, all our names had to do with wine. But Nero? Really? The name was synonymous with evil. Not Nero d'Avola the grape I was actually named after. Though it’s the most important grape planted in Sicily, it was definitely not what people thought of when they heard the name Nero. No, they only thought about the tyrannical, murderous psycho who played the fiddle while Rome burned.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t run the entire show like my oldest brother, Laurent, or was a world-renowned winemaker like my other brother Franc, or even training under Franc like our baby brother, Rhone. To my family, I was the tasting room manager, but let’s be real. I was a glorified bartender.

My job had its advantages, though. It was the perfect place to meet women. Most were tourists looking for a good time, and I was always willing to show them exactly that. Nothing more. Even if it did result in me having a standoff with an underwear thief. It was all part of the lifestyle, and I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

One of those stage five clingers materialized in front of me. I hadn’t even slept with her. Hell, I hadn’t taken her out on the town. I’d flirted with her like I flirted with every woman in a pair of tight jeans.

This was her second night visiting the tasting room. She’d shown up Thursday night with a group of friends. I winked at her a few times, shared a few stories and maybe flashed her the Grasso charm. But I went home with Jennifer-slash-Jessica instead for this very reason. She didn’t give off fall in love and marry me vibes like this woman in front of me.

Tonight, she was flying solo. I’d already brushed her off, telling her I was too busy to chat. Yet, she kept finding reasons to linger at the bar. There was no bigger turnoff than a woman who couldn’t take a hint.

“Can I get you something?” I asked, doing my best not to flash the charm. It wasn’t something I had control over, but in times like this, I needed to reel it in.

“How about you?” she said with an insinuating undertone. I couldn’t help the smile that cracked at the corner of my mouth. I might not have wanted her advances, but the egotistical jerk who lived inside of me liked when his ego was stroked.

“Can’t, sweetheart. If you haven’t noticed, it’s a little crazy, and I’m short-staffed.” I wasn’t, but I needed to build my defense.

“I can wait.”

“It’s going to be a late night.” I nodded to a person at the opposite end of the bar. “If you’ll excuse me.” I hurried my ass over to the waiting customer.

I poured the next wine on his tasting flight, wiped down the bar, and turned to Lanes to make sure she was still good, though she only ever had one glass of wine.

“You good?” I asked.

“I’m fine.” She smirked. “You, on the other hand, seem to be reaping what you sow.”

“The only thing I’m reaping is a headache.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have… oh, I don’t know… fed her lines of bullshit after bullshit to sell her a case of wine she’ll most likely never drink.”

“First off, that hurts coming from you.” Unlike my family and friends, Lanes was one of the few people who didn’t usually judge me. She accepted me for who I was, and as stupid as it was, I appreciated it. “And second, how did you know I sold her a case?”

She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, sipping her wine. The light pink gloss transferred from her lips to the glass. Her eyes snapped to mine, and she gave me her ‘give me a break’ glare. “That’s what you do. You use that ridiculous smile to sell cases and then sometimes, if the woman strikes your fancy, you get a date out of the deal.”

“I didn’t realize you paid such close attention.”

“I don’t,” she said with a careless ease. “It literally happens every time I’m here. On rare occasions, one of those women you charmed returns and doesn’t realize you were just trying to sell wine and make a good tip even though, no offense, it’s so obvious. Amateurs.” She rolled her eyes before continuing. “So I get to kick back and watch you squirm. Until you need my help that is.”

“I don’t squirm, and I don’t need your help.”

“You were so squirming. I swear I saw your skin ripple over there.” She held her glass up, then tilted it to her lips again, taking a small sip.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

Her cheeks plumped with her smile, and her lashes brushed the tops before her eyes popped open with pure amusement. “So much.”

“Thanks, Lanes.”

She fluttered her eyelashes in mock innocence, which made me laugh. Lanes could always make me laugh. Even when Gramps died. I never thought I’d laugh again. The aching pain in my heart had been too much to handle, but then there was Lainey. Sweet, bubbly Lainey who yielded sarcasm and wit like a trained swordsman.

“Should we take the flowers and throw them into the crowd to see who is next?” she’d said that dreaded day.

One sentence from her, and the pain eased, the joys in life slowly came back to me, and every tear I had been holding at bay and had been forcibly pressing against my eyes had dispersed. Some tears disappearing completely and a few slipping down my face, but not in pain. They fell in joy. Joy that I had people like Lainey in my life. Joy that I was lucky to have had Gramps for so long. I had hugged her, grateful for the reminder that even in times of loss, there was always room for laughter.

That hug had been exactly what I needed.

Her lip quirked, and she motioned to the far end of the bar.

“What?” I asked, the smile from the memory still holding strong.

“Your friend is back.”

“How many times can I blow someone off before they get the hint?”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just take her up on her offer. She clearly wants you.”

“That’s the problem. She wants more than a single night, and you know I don’t do that.”

“How can you tell?” she asked curiosity forming in lines on the bridge of her nose.

“It’s all in the eyes.”

She shrugged. “Maybe she can be the one who changes your mind.”

Did she and Albert have a secret meeting about me or something? I didn’t understand everyone’s sudden interest in me settling down. “That’s never going to happen.”

“Why?” Her blue eyes met mine with an unexpected gentleness that nearly knocked me off my damn feet.

“B-Because,” I stuttered. Her eyes had a black ring around them, highlighting the sky blue and making them pop that much more. Something I had never noticed before.

“You deserve happiness, Nero. Just like Laurent and Franc.”

“I am happy.” I liked sex. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. My family called me a dog and a pig, but it never bothered me. Maybe I was more like the Roman emperor than I wanted to admit. He was known for his debauchery, and so was I. But unlike the lunatic emperor, I wasn’t hurting anyone. At least not intentionally.

“You should go handle that,” Lanes said. “The last thing you want is a scene.”

I turned toward Rebecca. Or was it Rachel? Shit. I was never good with names.

“Do you need me to play the family emergency call, or the other one-night stand? That one is always fun.” Excitement filled her tone, and her hands landed on the bar like she was ready to leap into action.

“I told you I don’t need your help.” The last time she played another one-night stand, she almost got decked in the face. I had felt guilty for a week when Lanes finally admitted she made friends with the woman afterward, and they bonded over a mixed drink down at Three Barrell Distilling.

“Until you do.” She bit her lip, her mouth lifting at the corners, and pushing her cheeks up. The smile faded, and those lines of curiosity formed on her brow again. “How do you know these women aren’t serial killers?”

Lanes watched entirely too much true crime documentaries.

“Most serial killers are men. While women tend to kill one man slowly over many, many years.”

“I could argue, but I think the punishment you have waiting at the other side of the bar is much worse.” Lanes paused the glass at her bottom lip. Her too blue eyes with the black ring peered over the rim. “Then again, maybe I should talk to that woman. Does she realize you could be a serial killer?”

“A serial killer? Me?” I scoffed. “In my family, I can’t even take a piss without everyone knowing. Do you know how hard it would be to hide a body and keep it a secret?”

Then again, by some miracle, I had managed to keep one secret from my family. They had no idea I spent my nights welding big pieces of metal into art. Or at least I thought it was art.

Lanes laughed, that loud, boisterous giggle of hers that eased the tension in my shoulders.

“Good point,” she said, before taking another sip of her wine. She didn’t have much left, and when she finished, she would leave like she always did. But I wasn’t ready for her to go. I wanted to ask her about her meeting with Laurent and Phoebe and what cake they were going to have at their wedding. Lainey’s cakes were the highlight of any event, and I wanted to know what I had to look forward to.

“Nero!” The stage five clinger all but barked. She waved a dainty hand in my direction and with a roll of my eyes to Lanes, I made my way to the woman. It was time I put an end to this so I could finish my conversation with Lanes.

“What can I do for you?” I purposely left the sweetheart off, but it took restraint as that endearment just naturally flowed from my lips.

“What took you so long?” she asked, eyelashes fluttering, reminding me of Lainey earlier. Though Lanes did it jokingly, and it was adorable. This poor woman looked like she had something in her eye. I was tempted to steer her toward the bathroom to check the mirror.

“I told you, we’re busy, and I’m shorthanded.”

“But you didn’t mind taking your time with that”—she waved her hand toward Lainey—“person.”

My head snapped to attention. I didn’t like her tone.

She leaned forward, resting her elbow on the bar and successfully hoisting her tits to the ceiling. “Why don’t you and I meet up after your shift?”

“Can’t,” I said and didn’t bother offering more of an explanation. With a woman like this, short and direct was best.

“If you’re playing hard to get, it’s only going to turn me on. I’m a woman who gets what she wants, and I don’t back down.”

“It’s going to be a long night.”

“I can wait.”

“Excuse me,” Lainey’s voice cut through the murmur of the crowd. “Can you stop flirting with my boyfriend?”

I told her I didn’t need her help, but I flashed her a smile filled with appreciation. Even I knew when I was in over my head.

The brunette let out a loud bark of a laugh that carried across the large space. It wasn’t loud in the way Lainey’s laugh was loud. No. This was unkind. “Boyfriend?” she exclaimed. “There is no way.”

“Why the hell not?” I demanded, a sudden urge of protectiveness rising inside me.

Lanes wasn’t tall and thin like the woman in front of me, but she was just as beautiful, if not more. Her kindness was far above the norm. Genuine and real. She was good even when no one was watching.

Lainey, I’d give her credit, didn’t sink into herself. She stood and walked toward me. Her five-foot-one frame was dwarfed by the leggy brunette, but Lainey stopped in front of her and tilted her head a good six inches to meet her gaze head on. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders like a golden curtain.

“First of all, you haven’t mentioned a girlfriend in the two days I’ve been flirting with you and… look at her,” the brunette said, glaring at Lanes before waving a dismissive hand in her direction.

Anger burned a trail of heat through my neck to my ears. Say anything you wanted about me, but once anyone said anything about my family—and Lainey was family—all bets were off. I gained my composure and stepped out from the bar, stopping in front of Lanes. Her big blue eyes blinked up at me.

“I am looking at her,” I said and wrapped my hand around her waist, tugging her close to me. Lanes let out the slightest of gasps before I bent my head and captured her lips with my own.

It was supposed to be a simple kiss—a deterrent to get this beast of a woman to leave, but once my lips pressed to the softness of Lainey, every thought fled.

I moved my mouth, and Lainey’s body slowly unfroze. Her hands slid up my abs, resting on my chest and surrounding me in the scent of sweet vanilla. Her lips parted, creating an inviting path I was too eager to explore. I didn’t hesitate, dipping into her mouth, meeting her tongue with an excited vigor that rarely happened.

Kissing was all about mechanics, doing things to make the woman want to strip herself bare for you…

But not this kiss.

Lanes was following my lead, tongue sliding with mine, not waiting for me to guide her, but moving as one, a fluid dance that shot pleasure through my entire body.

My dick hardened beneath my pants, confirming a reality I never thought I’d face. I was kissing Lainey Burns, and I didn’t just like it.

I fucking loved it.

Fuck me.