Chapter Four
Griffin
I woke to the insistent beeping of my alarm and the unfamiliar weight of someone pressed against my back. For a disorienting moment, I couldn't remember where I was or who I was with. Then it all came rushing back—the breakdown, the road trip, the motel with only one room available.
Lila.
Sometime during the night, we'd shifted from our careful back-to-back positions. Now she was curled against me, her forehead resting between my shoulder blades, one arm draped over my waist. Her breathing was deep and even, still lost in sleep despite my alarm's persistent buzzing.
I reached carefully for my phone, trying not to disturb her as I silenced the noise. Six o'clock—right on schedule. We needed to get back on the road soon if we were going to make good time to Foxfire Valley, and I knew she was anxious about her rescheduled meeting at Sparkling Oak.
I should have woken her immediately. Should have slipped out of bed and started getting ready.
Instead, I found myself lying perfectly still, reluctant to break the moment.
There was something oddly comforting about her presence, about the trust implied in the way she'd unconsciously sought me out during the night.
Last night's conversation replayed in my mind—her quiet confession about her childhood, about why control mattered so much to her.
It had shifted something between us, transforming her from an uptight stranger into someone I understood, someone I respected.
Someone I wanted to know better, despite my better judgment.
The morning light filtered through the thin curtains, casting the room in a soft golden glow. I could feel Lila beginning to stir, her breathing pattern changing as she drifted toward consciousness. Then suddenly she went rigid, clearly realizing our position.
She jerked away so quickly she nearly fell off the bed, scrambling to put distance between us.
"I'm so sorry," she blurted, her face flushing a deep crimson that spread down her neck and disappeared beneath her silk camisole. "I didn't mean to—I must have—in my sleep—"
"Good morning to you too, sunshine," I said, unable to suppress a grin at her flustered state. With her hair tousled from sleep and cheeks burning red, she looked adorably rumpled. Nothing like the polished, controlled woman from yesterday.
"I don't usually—" She stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again. "I apologize for invading your personal space."
I couldn't help but laugh at the formality. "Relax, Lila. People move in their sleep. It's not a federal offense."
She brushed a strand of hair from her face, still looking mortified. "Right. Of course. Very logical."
"Besides," I added, stretching my arms overhead and enjoying the way her eyes darted to my bare chest before quickly looking away, "you're pretty comfortable to sleep with."
That earned me a glare, though the effect was somewhat diminished by her persistent blush. "I'm going to get ready," she announced, grabbing her toiletry bag and a change of clothes before disappearing into the bathroom.
I chuckled to myself as the door shut firmly behind her.
Who would have thought the uptight wine expert could be so endearing when flustered?
I'd spent most of yesterday deliberately trying to get under her skin, enjoying the flash of annoyance in those expressive eyes whenever I pushed her buttons.
But this morning's reaction was something different—something softer, more vulnerable.
And I found I liked it just as much, if not more.
Dangerous territory, Rhodes. Very dangerous territory.
I got up and pulled a fresh t-shirt from my duffel, along with jeans and a flannel shirt. By the time Lila emerged from the bathroom, I was fully dressed and had packed up my things.
She looked put-together again, her armor of professionalism firmly back in place. Dark jeans, a silky blouse in deep burgundy, and low heels that somehow looked both practical and elegant. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her makeup was subtle but flawless.
"Bathroom's all yours," she said, not quite meeting my eyes.
"Thanks, but I'm good to go. Thought we could grab breakfast at the diner before hitting the road. They make a mean stack of pancakes."
She nodded, focusing on carefully folding her pajamas and placing them in her suitcase. "Sounds good."
We checked out quickly, the clerk giving us a knowing smile that Lila steadfastly ignored. The morning air was cool and crisp as we loaded our bags into my truck and walked the short distance to the diner attached to the motel.
The place was busy but not crowded, filled with the comfortable hum of conversation and the scent of coffee and bacon. A middle-aged waitress with a name tag that read "Flora" led us to a booth by the window, sliding menus in front of us with a practiced flick of her wrist.
"Coffee for you both?" she asked, already pouring without waiting for our response.
"Please," Lila said, wrapping her hands around the mug as if seeking its warmth.
"Thank you, Flora," I added, glancing at the menu though I already knew what I wanted.
The waitress beamed at us. "You two make such a cute couple. Honeymooners?"
Lila choked on her coffee, coughing and sputtering. I reached across the table to pat her back, trying not to laugh at her reaction.
"We're not—" she started, once she could breathe again.
"Just friends," I finished smoothly, winking at Flora. "But I'm working on it."
Flora laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "Well, good luck to you, honey." She turned to Lila with a conspiratorial smile. "And he's easy on the eyes, isn't he?"
Lila's blush returned in full force. "We're really not—"
"Ready to order?" Flora interrupted, pen poised over her notepad.
I took pity on Lila and jumped in. "I'll have the lumberjack special, eggs over easy, extra bacon."
"And for your not-girlfriend?" Flora asked, eyes twinkling.
Lila cleared her throat. "I'll have the French toast with berries, please. And a side of bacon."
I raised an eyebrow as Flora walked away. "French toast? Interesting choice."
"I like to try different things," she replied with a hint of a smile. "Besides, I've always been partial to the French approach."
"Fascinating," I said, genuinely intrigued by this small revelation. "The wine expert prefers the French approach to breakfast too."
She took a sip of her coffee, her expression giving nothing away. "I'll have you know I ate cereal for dinner just last month."
"Scandalous," I teased. "What was it, some kind of organic, sugar-free cardboard?"
"Lucky Charms," she replied with a defiant lift of her chin.
I pressed a hand to my chest in mock shock. "I don't believe it. Lila King, connoisseur of fine wines, eating artificially colored marshmallows? The horror."
"I contain multitudes," she said dryly, but her eyes were dancing with amusement now.
"Clearly," I agreed. "A woman of mystery and contradictions."
Our food arrived, and I watched with satisfaction as Lila eyed my towering stack of pancakes with poorly concealed interest.
"Want one?" I offered, sliding the syrup her way.
"I've got my own sugar rush coming," she said, nodding to her French toast as Flora set it down. The plate was piled high with thick slices of bread dusted with powdered sugar and topped with fresh berries.
Despite her protest, I cut a generous piece of pancake, making sure to get plenty of syrup, and held the fork out to her. "One bite won't kill you. Scientific comparison."
She hesitated, then leaned forward and took the bite directly from my fork. The casual intimacy of the gesture caught us both by surprise, and for a moment, we just stared at each other.
"Good, right?" I said finally, my voice rougher than I intended.
She nodded slowly, licking a drop of syrup from her lower lip. "It's... not terrible."
"High praise indeed," I laughed, trying to ignore the way my pulse had kicked up at the sight of her tongue darting out to catch that syrup.
The rest of breakfast passed in comfortable conversation. Lila relaxed more with each cup of coffee, her earlier embarrassment fading as we fell into the easy rhythm we'd established yesterday. She even stole another bite of my pancakes when she thought I wasn't looking.
Flora dropped the check on our table with another knowing smile. "You two have a safe trip now. And don't be strangers next time you pass through."
"We won't," I promised, leaving a generous tip.
Outside, the day had warmed considerably, the sun bright in a cloudless sky. Perfect driving weather. We got into my truck and hit the road, Lila checking her phone for messages as we pulled onto the highway.
"Everything okay?" I asked, noticing her frown.
"Just an email from Madeline Foster, the general manager at Sparkling Oak. I was supposed to meet with her today, but obviously that's not happening now." She sighed, tapping out a quick message. "I'm explaining that my car broke down and asking if we can reschedule."
"Will that be a problem?" I asked, feeling a twinge of guilt. I'd always been clear we needed to stop in Foxfire Valley to deliver my equipment, but I hadn't anticipated how much the delay might affect her plans.
She shook her head as she finished typing.
"Actually, she's responding now... she says they've had an issue with their bottling equipment and need a few days to sort it out anyway.
She's suggesting we reschedule for Friday.
" Lila looked up with a relieved smile. "Looks like this detour might have been perfect timing after all. "
"See? Sometimes things work out better when plans change," I said, oddly pleased that the universe seemed to be aligning to give us more time together.
"Don't get used to it," she warned, but her tone was lighter now. "This is still a temporary deviation from my master plan."
"Of course it is," I agreed solemnly. "Wouldn't want you to lose your reputation as the woman with a plan for everything."