Chapter Ten
I stomped toward the door, refusing to accept Brady’s assessment. There was no way in hell I was going to be stuck in here with him for God knows how long. I should have already left, but it had been so quiet here, and I had just got to a good part in my book this morning, so I thought I’d read a chapter before going home. Except it got super steamy, and there was a major plot twist, and I couldn’t stop reading.
I shoved the door open, and cold air and snow blasted me in the face. Ice cold flakes pelted my skin. The wind grabbed the door, and I reached for it, tugging on the solid wood, fighting against the gale. It was too strong, too fierce. I planted my heels in the ground and used my whole body to pull. My hair whipped around my face, and I regretted every decision I had made in the last two hours.
Brady reached across me, his body too close. Flashes of his Halloween costume ran through my mind as his muscles bulged against his thermal and heaved the door shut.
“Believe me now?” he grumbled.
“I can’t believe this.” Denial wasn’t going to do me any favors, but why was the universe working against me? Brady and I had been cordial for the last couple of weeks, but locking us in the winery together to wait through this storm was going to put us back at each other’s throats.
“Believe it. This is our reality until this storm is over.”
“And when the hell is that supposed to be?” Normally, I kept up with weather reports. I should have already been home, glass of merlot on my end table, fire roaring, and settled in with my Kindle. But no. I was too impatient to wait to see what happened, and now I wouldn’t even be able to finish the book tonight. The last thing I needed was for Brady to ask me what I was reading and look over my shoulder.
“According to the last radar I checked, tomorrow early morning. Plows won’t be by until at least seven.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck. The one time I don’t have Jack with me.”
“Where is he?” I asked, suddenly aware he was not being followed by his fluffy shadow.
“At my house. I was just going to drop the damn chairs off. Now he’s stuck at the house while I’m stuck here.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I assured him. Jack was a dog, but to Brady, he might as well have been his biological son.
“I know he’ll be fine. But I’d rather talk to him than you.”
Unbelievable. I had started feeling bad for him. My eyes rolled so hard they might as well have implanted in the back of my head. “You’re an asshole.”
“I might be an asshole, but you’re lucky you’re stuck with me.”
“Why is that?”
“Do you have flashlights?” he asked.
“I have one on my cellphone.”
“You need to reserve your battery. In case we lose power.”
Of course. I knew that. I spent most of my life here. I knew how this worked. That damn book, then Brady showing up, had completely messed with my brain.
“We need to do inventory.” I hurried behind the bar to grab my emergency notebook I kept stored there. As soon as it was in my hand, Brady plucked it from my grip. “Hey!” I tried to snatch it back, but he held it beyond my reach.
“We don’t need a checklist.”
“You do things your way, and I do things my way. And if you don’t give me that notebook back, I swear I will make you regret being here.”
“I already do.”
My lips pressed into a thin line. He was such a dick. I wasn’t happy about our situation, but at least I wasn’t being an asshole about it. He couldn’t even control himself for ten minutes. This was going to be a long night. I planted my hand on my hip and held my other hand out. “Notebook.”
He grumbled something and slapped the notebook in my hand.
“Thank you.”
I opened to a clean page and made bullet points before filling in the items we needed.
Flashlight
Water
Food
Blankets
First Aid Kit
I pointed toward the left. “Flashlights are in the maintenance closet. There should be at least three. I have a case of water in my office, but there is also water in the fridge in the shop area. The kitchen is stocked if we want to cook. There’s also cheese in the fridge and crackers in the shop. There’s also jam, fruit and nuts.”
“I have a blanket in my truck.”
“Not necessary. I have blankets in my office.”
“You do?” His eyebrow arched like he was insinuating something.
“I get cold in the summer. Laurent runs hot and always has the damn air conditioner blasting. Then in the winter, God forbid someone put the thermostat above sixty-four.” After years of battling, I finally gave up. Truth was, Laurent was easier to deal with when he wasn’t overheating. I tapped the notebook, trying to think of what I was missing. “We have a back-up generator for the refrigerators, so we don’t have to worry about that.”
“Laurent has a six-pack in the fridge in his office. And a bottle of my whiskey on his desk.”
“Laurent has a fridge in his office? Since when?”
“Oh no, did Laurent do something without your permission?”
“He doesn’t need my permission. I just didn’t know.” I knew everything that happened in all aspects of this business, from the warehouse to the vineyard to the offices. When the hell did he get a fridge?
I glanced at my checklist. “First aid kit is under the bar.”
His lip quirked. “What do we need a first aid kit for?”
“In case I decide to hurt you.”
“Baby, I’d like to see you try.”
The use of baby froze me in place. “Don’t call me that.” Baby was used for lovers, and we were definitely not lovers. He couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me.
He shrugged and turned away as if he threw that endearment out all the time. I’d never heard him use it. Till just now.
“I’ll go grab the whiskey.”
“Because that’s the most important thing on the list.”
“We know where everything is, and the power is still on. The whiskey isn’t going to drink itself.” He made his way to the stairs.
“I guess I’ll get the flashlights. You know, the important items.”
“Whiskey will keep me from wanting to strangle you. I’d say that’s priority.”
I narrowed my gaze, tempted to stick my tongue out, but I was an adult, not a child.
“I’ll grab the blankets while I’m up there. Don’t want the princess to get cold.”
I was going to say we should head to the offices. It would be more comfortable, but it would also be closer quarters. Staying in the tasting room gave us plenty of room to keep our distance from one another.
It was bad enough we were stuck together; we didn’t need to really torture ourselves by holing up in a small office.
After I retrieved the flashlights, I placed them on the bar and grabbed a bottle of merlot. If he was going to drink, so was I. Maybe it would keep us from killing each other. The last thing I wanted was my family showing up tomorrow morning to start snow cleanup and finding him dead on the floor.
The stairs creaked, but I didn’t bother to look as the sounds of Brady’s feet on the wood echoed through the unusually quiet tasting room.
I poured my glass and kept the bottle on the bar. It was going to be a long night after all. A bottle of whiskey and a rock glass appeared next to the wine bottle, and a blanket draped over my shoulders.
I blinked up, shocked he didn’t just ball the blanket up and toss it at me. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He plopped on a stool a few away from me and held my Kindle in front of him.
“What are you doing?” I asked, unable to stave off the sudden panic in my voice.
“Just wanted to see what you’re reading.”
“Give me that.” I jumped off the stool, the blanket falling to the floor, and grabbed for my Kindle, but despite my heels, I was five inches too short and a hundred pounds too light. “Stop acting like a child and give it to me.”
“Why would I do that?” He pressed the power button, and my defense mechanisms kicked in. I might’ve been too short, but I was also the oldest of the Grasso sisters, sandwiched between two older brothers and two younger brothers. I knew how to fight.
I went low and threw an elbow into his gut. His stomach was much harder than I anticipated, and he didn’t even bend over as I hoped.
“Did you just elbow me?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe it.
“Yes, and if you don’t give me my Kindle, I’ll aim for your face.”
“You really don’t want me to look at what you’re reading, do you?”
“A person’s book choice is personal, and, quite frankly, no one else’s business.” I held my hand out. “So if you can refrain from violating my personal space, I would very much appreciate it.”
He pressed the power button again, the screen going black as he handed it to me. “I wouldn’t want to do that.”
“Thank you.”
“But now I can only assume you’re reading smut.”
The word annoyed me, but not as much as my desire to hide my hobby as if it was a dirty little secret. “That term is offensive.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. That implies it’s lewd and shameful. Some would go as far to say ‘dumbed down literature’ that women can read. The author of the book I am reading was a lawyer who practiced for fifteen years before following her dreams of becoming a writer. Now she’s her own boss, running a successful author brand, and writing books that are both enjoyable and addicting. There’s nothing lewd or shameful about that.”
“I never said it was.”
“Like I said, it was implied.”
“Baby, if you think I’m judging anyone after the way I grew up, then you haven’t been paying attention at all.”
“I told you, don’t call me that.”
He propped his elbow on the bar, his muscle bulging against his shirt, making me wonder if he’d ever ripped one at the seams. “Why? Am I reminding you of one of the characters in your book?”
“Can we change the subject, please?” I walked to my glass of wine, picked it up, and took a nice, long sip. Between admitting my secret to him, hearing him call me baby, and the way he smiled when he said smut, my body was battling a litany of sensations, each one contradicting the other.
“Sure.” He poured a two-finger pour of whiskey and took a sip. “So are we talking Outlander or Fifty Shades of Grey?”
“The fact that you know both of those is shocking.”
“Outlander’s a good show. There’s romance, but it’s also heavy on history and damn accurate.”
My head swiveled toward him, shock seeping into me as he praised the historical drama. I imagined him curled up on his couch with Jack, glass of whiskey in hand, shadows of a roaring fire dancing across his face as he watched the show. Did he get turned on by the intimate scenes, or was that just me and my dry spell? Did he long for a love that transcended centuries?
What the hell was I thinking? This was Brady. He’d never had a serious relationship in his life. He’d hooked up with people. The town gossip mill had kept me abreast of that, but he never actually dated anyone. He was more of a one and done kind of guy.
“Do you not agree?” he asked, taking another swig from his glass.
“I do. I’m just surprised you watch it, is all.”
“I think if you’d care to notice, you’d be surprised by a lot of things.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re quick to judge, quick to hold a grudge, and quick to dismiss someone.”
“That is not true at all. Maybe you’d be surprised by a lot of things too if you could see beyond that ridiculous perception you have of me.”
“Do you not remember accusing Quinn of being some gold digger?”
“I was protecting my brother and nephew. In the end, I was wrong. I admitted it, and I apologized to Quinn.” I swiped my glass of wine off the bar, almost spilling the contents. That was one time I misjudged someone and their intentions, and I still felt shitty about it. I didn’t need him using it against me.
I felt his eyes on me, and I debated looking up or keeping my attention on the red liquid in my glass. I relented. My breath caught at the way his eyebrows pinched together above the strong bridge of his nose. There was a slight bump there, barely noticeable, but I knew it was there.
I remember him showing up at our house, two black eyes, dried blood on his upper lip. He told us he tripped and fell into a doorknob, but I knew the truth. It might have been a doorknob that broke his nose, but he didn’t trip. I had gotten him ice and couldn’t forget the wince when I had put it to his face.
His eyes met mine then, looking at me just as he was now. There was softness there—tenderness that contradicted his gruff exterior. I shifted under the weight of his gaze, an uncomfortable knot dropping in my stomach. He was looking at me like someone who surprised him, and he admired it. But he hadn’t looked at me like that for a very long time.
“What?” I finally asked.
“You really feel bad about that. About Quinn.” It was a statement, not a question, but I still felt the need to clarify.
“Of course I do. Quinn is a sweetheart who treats my nephew like her own. She’s probably going to be my sister-in-law one day, and I villainized her.” I lived up to my bitch persona without even trying. Quinn had forgiven me, but it would be a long time before I forgave myself.
His eyes didn’t waver, not when my voice rose and not when it weakened. He stayed locked in on me. My breath stuttered in my chest, my heartbeat picked up, and I got lost in the green depths.
“Char—”
A loud crash jolted us away. I nearly fell off the barstool, but Brady grabbed my arm, securing me in place before putting his body in front of me.
I gasped, pressing a hand to my heart that was beating way too hard. “What the hell was that?”
His shoulders tensed, and his head scanned the room before his muscles visibly relaxed. “Looks like a bottle rolled off the display.”
“I told Nero it was a stupid setup.” The stubborn bastard wouldn’t listen to me. He had a vision. Now we had a bottle in pieces on the floor and red wine splattered halfway across the tasting room.
“I’ll get the dustpan and a mop.”
I went to the maintenance closest and retrieved the items. By the time I made my way to the mess, Brady was already on one knee, garbage beside him, picking through big pieces of glass.
“Be careful. Just because I have a first aid kit doesn’t mean I want to use it.”
“The amount of callouses on my fingers, I doubt the glass could even penetrate my skin.”
He was probably right. Years of cutting wood, working in construction, hauling barrels, rock climbing, and all the other stuff Brady did would do that. Still, I didn’t need him slicing himself up.
I bypassed the garbage pail and angled the broom toward the mess. As soon as I extended the broom, Brady snatched it out of my hands.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I tried to get it back.
“I’ll do this. You go over there and read your porn.”
“It’s not porn!” I snatched the broom back. “Besides, I need this done right.”
“Oh, and I’m not capable of doing it right?”
“Does everything have to be an argument with you?”
“Do you have to be in control of every situation?”
I didn’t have to be in control, but I knew no one else could do what I did better. It was nothing against them. I was just particular about the way things were done.
“Look, I saw you had ninety-four percent left in your book. I’m sure you’re dying to know how it ends. I’ll clean this up. Go cuddle up in your blanket and finish it.” He bent down and picked up another big chunk of glass, tossing it in the trash. “Besides, we have all night to fight. Why don’t we take five?”
I really did want to finish my book, and I would have if a certain somebody hadn’t interrupted me. “After you pick up the glass and wipe up the wine, spray down the floor with—”
“I know.”
“But you don’t want to—”
“Char, go read. I got this.”
I snapped my mouth shut and hesitated for only a second before pivoting on my heel. I headed to the bar and grabbed my Kindle, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders. I took a sip of my wine and glanced over at Brady.
He instantly spotted me and waved his finger in a circle, telling me to turn around and mind my own business. Fine. If he wanted to clean the mess up, I wasn’t going to argue. I could always reclean it later.
I powered up my Kindle and allowed myself to forget about lists and responsibilities, focusing on the sexy vampire on the page while trying to ignore the sexy man who just sprayed down the floor exactly how I would have.
It was going to be a very long night.