Chapter 16 #2
He feels that too, right? He has to, because I’m damn near suffocating with the weight of our chemistry, our heat, our desire. It’s more than that, though. It’s connection. That’s what this odd sensation is in my chest.
Too soon, we’re the last ones in the room and have to hurry to catch up with the group.
Jim leads us all down a set of wide stone steps. In the front, he’s walking alone, his shoulders nearly brushing the walls and his head just missing the light fixture. Behind him, we walk in couples, two by two with plenty of space.
I whisper to Kaede, “How do you know Jim?”
“College ball. He was an offensive lineman who decided his rookie contract was enough beating on his body. After he retired from the game, he bought a winery that was in dire straits and turned it around. He’s got a heart of gold and a nose for wine.”
“When we opened Bosque Wines, my partners and I had a very clear goal in mind. Local to global. So all of our grapes are sourced from our own vineyards, no mixing in outside varieties ever. Our casks are made with wood harvested from trees grown within fifty miles of where we stand right now. Our bottles are made by a fourth-generation glass company in the next town. Once we have created a true representation of our best, only then does it go into the world.”
He continues with his history of the winery, but I hang back with Kaede, whispering to each other among the tall racks of casks. “You’ve never been here before?”
He gives me that smile that drives me wild, just a little cocky but with a hint of sweetness that he hides way down deep inside. “Never had a special enough occasion to come. Tonight seemed like the right time.”
Swoon. I haven’t had a sip, and I’m totally drunk . . . on him.
We walk the cavernous wine cellars for an hour, listening as Jim gives his spiel. It’s interesting, he mixes enough science and technique with his promotional puffery that I’m drawn in. Surefire way to this girl’s heart? Science and business. And Jim’s speech is hitting me right in the feels.
“Are most of your wines red or white?” one of the guests asks, and Jim hums.
“It depends on the harvest each year, but for the past few years, our competition wines have been our reds,” Jim concedes.
“In a year or two, there are a few whites I think will be competition worthy, and of course, there’s a blended rosé that I think is near perfect, but that’s personal preference.
Don’t worry, you’ll get to sample them all. ”
One of the ladies agrees with Jim, “Rosé all day for me, please.” Everyone laughs at the T-shirt phrase, and the tour continues.
I try to keep up, but I’m distracted.
Kaede’s kept my hand in his, and his palm feels warm against mine, leaving tingles in the wake of his thumb where it’s brushing along my skin.
My focus zeroes in on that small contact, my heartbeat quickening in my chest. I consider pulling him out of the group, into the dim shadows where he can put his thumb on more than the back of my hand, but I decide that’s not proper.
Later, as we move from one room to another, he guides me through a doorway, his hand resting gently on my lower back, and I can feel the buzz in my blood and the desire to arch into his touch, even through the fabric of my dress.
I swear he’s driving me wild on purpose, small touches here, little caresses there, seemingly casual but so electric each time. By the time we pass through the last archway, I’m nearly ready to just press my back against it, throw my leg up around his waist, and tell him to take me right there.
We finish our tour, heading upstairs behind Jim.
He leads us into an intimate bar area. It’s beautiful, with leather booths, lit candles, wood walls, plush carpet, and quiet jazz music.
Kaede guides me to a private booth in the back corner, the L-shaped curve letting us sit right next to each other.
“It feels like we’re in a speakeasy,” I whisper into Kaede’s ear, though I could have easily spoken it aloud. The bar just has a hushed library vibe that I can appreciate.
He looks around as though he hadn’t even noticed. Like he’s only been paying attention to me. “It does.”
The waitress sets two wood boards with tiny, miniature wine glasses lined up onto the table. They have just enough for a sip or two in each glass, a true tasting. “Mr. Spiewal will talk you through the wine flight as I bring your food.”
“The first course is our dry Chardonnay, paired with sautéed shrimp,” Jim says, holding up a glass of his own.
We try the shrimp, and they’re perfect, juicy and tender. And the wine is light, complimenting the seafood, but better than that is the way Kaede is watching my mouth sip from the glass.
“Mr. McWarren, are you planning on getting me drunk and then taking advantage of me?” I ask as I tease him, licking the edge of my glass and making him squirm next to me.
“I happen to know, Miss Andrews, that nobody takes advantage of you,” Kaede says, taking a small piece of French bread and holding it out to me.
I wrap my lips around it and bite, barely brushing his fingertips.
It’s just bread, but it feels like something powerful and important is happening here.
“That’s one of your most interesting qualities. ”
“I’m not sure your idea of interesting and other people’s quite match up,” I say coyly.
Before he can banter back, Jim is raising another glass, discussing top notes and other things that I suddenly don’t care to make sense of. Not when Kaede is looking at me the way he is.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks quietly.
“Yes, mostly because of the company, though this red is delicious.”
“I thought you would like this.”
I look around, nodding to myself. While the bar’s a little fancier than my occasional haunt with Abi and Vi, it’s nice to step it up a notch for the unique experience. “What made you think that?”
Kaede considers his answer as our next course comes, grilled vegetables with a Riesling that’s sumptuous.
“This place is quality, but quiet and unassuming. Confident without being showy, not needing to shout who or what it is from the rooftops to get everyone else’s opinions and validation.
It just is . . . perfect. I knew you were the special sort of person who could appreciate a place like this. ”
There are moments when I’m caught up in Kaede’s dark good looks, or his muscles, or the animal aura he puts off.
But there are other times when he stuns me with his intellect and the depth of his soul.
And those are even sexier than the Ken-doll lines on his abdomen.
I’m a woman who thinks brains are the sexiest thing a man can have.
And fuck, does Kaede have a gorgeous one.
“Wow. If that was a line and this is your standard first date, it’s a good one.”
Careful, Courtney. You’re falling . . .
He smirks. “Told you, I haven’t been here before. With anyone but you.”
I take a sip of the next wine, even though Jim hasn’t instructed us to. But it feels like I’m falling into Kaede, into this thing between us, and I need to remember what Abi told me.
Be sure.
Because if I let myself get carried away, if I let this develop the direction my heart’s telling me to go, there won’t be just simple ‘fucking’ involved.
I barely taste the rest of the meal, and when the last bite of dessert passes my lips, guided there by Kaede’s fork holding the cheesecake steady, his eyes are burning. “We should go.”
“Yes.” I don’t care where we’re going, what we’re doing, or if Kaede even knows that my ‘yes’ means a lot more than acceptance that we need to leave. I just want to float in his current, in the tide of desire pulsing through me and pulling me toward him.
He throws a wave toward Jim, who is busy talking to another couple, and then Kaede makes his car purr a lot more than he did getting here.
One hand is gripping the steering wheel and the other is holding onto the gear shifter, even though it’s an automatic.
His eyes jump from the road to the rearview mirror like a safe driver, but every so often, they tick down to my lap.
I can feel his eyes on my thighs and the edge of my dress that I pulled down demurely as I got in the car.
Damn my mother for teaching me ladylike manners!
When he pulls up in front of my building, I’m worried for a half-second that he’s going to drop me at the curb, and I’m already considering whether I’m flying with my fingers or the showerhead tonight. But then he opens his door and nearly vaults the hood of his car to open my door.
He walks me inside the building and upstairs, my hand tightly in his. Next to me, it feels as though his muscles are literally thrumming like he’s holding a live wire.
Maybe he is.
Maybe it’s me. And wouldn’t that be a shocker . . . for the Ice Queen to actually be liquid fire beneath the frost? But I think he might be the only one who can melt me.
We get inside, where Kaede stops in my entryway, his nerves still warring with him. “Come in.”
He steps into my living room, looking stiffer than he has all night. And not in the good way. Damn it.
“Would you like a drink or something?” Ever the hostess, maybe Mom’s lessons weren’t all bad if they’ll keep Kaede here a little longer.
He shakes his head. “No, I shouldn’t or I won’t be able to drive.”
Is that a roundabout question? Like is he asking if he can stay over? If so, the answer’s fuck, yes. But Kaede doesn’t do indirect. If he wanted to stay, he’d say so.
So he’s leaving. Disappointment works its way through me, a bitter end to a lovely evening.
“I got you something.” Kaede swallows thickly and reaches into his jacket pocket.
And suddenly, I realize what he’s been nervous about. Because Kaede McWarren is on one knee, in my living room floor, holding up a ring box and looking at me with dark puppy dog eyes!
I basically melt into a big puddle right there.
In my brain, I know it’s fake, I know this is just for show. But when Kaede opens the box, my heart’s louder than my head, racing with happiness, with hope. The ring’s perfect, classically beautiful but not gaudy, the diamond flanked on each side by emeralds, my birthstone.
No, I’m not crying . . . he’s crying.
Actually, I think we both are. So sue me for having a romantic streak.
“Courtney, I wish I could do this right. You certainly deserve better than this,” he says, swallowing back another lump in his throat.
“You’re everything a man could ever desire, everything a man could want.
Someday, I pray that you’ll have this moment for real and that guy will be the luckiest man in the world to have you by his side as his wife.
But for now, thank you for your kind heart and willingness to help a friend out of a mess of his own making.
Courtney, will you take this ring and pretend to be my fiancée? ”
Yeah, he’s making damn sure to remind us both that we’re friends, nothing more, and that this is fake. Responsible to a fault. But the truth isn’t in his words. It’s in his eyes.
Abi’s warning bells go off again, but they sound more like a jackpot hitting.
Ding-ding-ding-ding! We have a winner!
“Yes, Kaede. Yes.”
Maybe I’m fooling myself, or maybe I’m trying to tell him the truth. That I don’t want this to be fake, and that after all the years of watching him, of wanting him from afar . . . this feels right.
He feels that too. He has to feel it. God, let him feel it.
The ring slides onto my finger, fitting perfectly thanks to Kaede’s string trick. It looks good on my hand and feels even better. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, my voice weak with wishes.
He stands up, his gaze going from my hand, which he’s still holding, to my eyes.
I don’t blink, don’t want to miss a moment of this because I feel like in this moment, I can see down to Kaede’s soul.
He’s raw and open, his defenses crumbling, and I’m picking my way over the jagged rocks to get inside him.
He wants me, but he thinks he should go. Loyalty is a beautiful, honorable thing, but Ross doesn’t need his loyalty in this.
Because I know what I need, what I want. And so I take his hand and pull him down the hall.
There’s no turning back now.