Chapter 6
Ivy watched Dax flip the sign on the door and said, “You can go now. I have a routine as far as closing goes. It’ll take me about twenty minutes, cleaning up a few things and getting the place ready to open tomorrow. Can I meet you for dinner?”
“Sure,” he said easily. “It will give me time to swing by and check in with Sean at Java Junction.”
She giggled, something which never came out of her, causing her cheeks to heat. “Sorry. He will always be Mr. Shackleford to me. Sean sounds like some sexy spy—not a high school band director.”
Dax leaned against the serving bar. “Oh, are you into sexy spies?” he asked suggestively. “Because I can’t tell you if I’m one or not. Or else I’d have to kill you.”
Her face now flamed, as his voice sent shivers along her spine. “Oh, wildly attracted to them,” she flirted back, hoping the teasing covered her wild attraction to this man.
He shrugged. “Sorry. I’m just an humble coffeehouse owner in the Hill Country of Texas. Now if I worked for one of your family’s wine competitors, I might have been charged with getting all the secrets out of you as to how you make your wines.”
She laughed, trying to cover how nervous she was, being around such a hot guy. Somehow, it had been different during the wine tasting. She was on familiar territory there, walking Dax through the various wines he tasted and telling him about wines in general since he had no prior experience with them.
“I’m the last person you should ask on how to actually make a wine. No, next to last. My sister Harper can’t tell you anything. She does know a good wine from a mediocre one when tasting, but that’s about it. As for me? I can elaborate about the finished product, but I have no idea what goes into the science and art of winemaking. Yes, we harvest the wines. Destem them. Press them. Store them in oak barrels. But that’s as far as my knowledge goes. My dad has been our chief winemaker for all these years, and now Braden Clark will be taking over that role soon. I’m just a lowly tasting manager, so don’t plan on kidnapping me and forcing me to talk. I have nothing to give up.”
His gaze turned hot, so intense that Ivy swallowed visibly.
“I think the old saying that still waters run deep fits you perfectly,” Dax said huskily. “I’m ready to know more about you, Ivy.” He paused. “I’ll see you at Blackwood BBQ in half an hour.”
She watched him stroll out and knew her knees were about to give out, so she crouched, wrapping her arms around her legs, dropping her head to her knees. Ivy stayed this way for a few minutes, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened.
Dax had come in for a tasting. They had talked about wine. Yet the entire time, she realized an undercurrent had been present between them, connecting them in some manner. It was a powerful feeling that even with his absence continued to run through her. It was also something she had never felt before.
Her experience with men was sorely lacking and non-existent ever since she’d given her heart to her college sweetheart. Jay Ridley had been like Jay Gatsby, a golden boy who had looks and wealth, and everything seemed to come so easily to him. He’d played tennis for Trinity University and been one of the most popular students on campus, serving as both president of his fraternity and also the student government association. The fact he had even looked at her—much less dated her—had stunned Ivy.
She had fallen deeply in love with Jay, assuming they had a future together because he had guaranteed her they did. Though he never formally asked her to marry him, she believed they would follow through with that step after graduation. Then she had discovered he was cheating on her with a campus beauty, one who made Ivy feel awkward and inadequate. When she finally had the guts to confront Jay, he had acted as if were no big deal. Ivy had cut ties with him.
And given up on men.
She hadn’t had time for dating while at the gallery. She certainly hadn’t thought about it once she arrived back in Lost Creek. But Dax Whose Last Name Still Remained a Mystery had her blood stirring. It worried her, though, that he was so easygoing. So natural. Because of her experience with Jay, who had a similar nature, Ivy wasn’t certain she could trust her fledgling feelings toward Dax, much less trust Dax himself.
Pushing to her feet, she said aloud, “Get real.”
Ivy began gathering the wineglasses used in Dax’s tasting so she could wash them. She decided to ignore the stupid tingles and quickening heartbeat thinking about Dax brought about. She would go to dinner. Just talk. See if he might become a friend. Or even introduce him to Braden, who was new in town, as Dax was. Maybe they could be the ones to form a friendship.
As she readied the tasting room for tomorrow, Ivy told herself to keep things light this evening. It was just dinner with a new acquaintance. Nothing more, nothing less. Besides, she finally had time to devote to her art. She didn’t need to become distracted by a guy with soulful brown eyes.
And extremely kissable lips.
Swearing softly under her breath, she determined not to look at Dax’s mouth. She vowed not to kiss him—or anyone else—anytime soon.
She would keep her dinner plans with him, though. He had been friendly to her, offering her a free drink at his coffeehouse and then stopping by the winery for a tasting. It would do her good to get out of her routine.
Locking up the tasting room, she went to her car. As she headed into town, she called Harper.
“Hey, you on your way home? Braden is doing fettuccini Alfredo tonight.”
“I won’t be home for dinner. I’m stopping by Blackwood BBQ.”
“Oh?”
Ivy heard the note of curiosity in her sister’s tone and decided to come clean.
“I met Dax, the guy who opened Java Junction. I stopped by and had a coffee there yesterday, and he actually came out today, and I did a wine tasting for him. He had never had a glass of wine before. It’s not often I run into a wine virgin. Anyway, he was headed back to town for dinner and asked if I wanted to grab a bite with him.”
“Ivy, that’s fantastic!” Harper said enthusiastically. “I’m so glad you decided to go.”
“It’s just dinner. And it’s not a date,” she clarified.
“Maybe the next time it will be,” her sister said, chuckling. “Have fun. See you later. Or maybe not.”
“Harper, I will be home after we eat,” she insisted.
“Well, no rush. Braden and I will enjoy a romantic dinner. Then we’ll probably fall into bed because we’re so tired. If I don’t see you tonight, we can talk about Dax tomorrow.”
She didn’t say there wouldn’t be anything to talk about because she didn’t want Harper to get started on topics Ivy wasn’t willing to discuss.
“Okay. Talk to you soon. And tell Braden to save me some fettuccine.”
“Will do.”
Ivy slipped her cell into the cupholder, glad that was out of the way. Now that Harper and Braden were a couple, Ivy probably should start giving them more time alone together. It wouldn’t hurt to eat in town a couple of nights a week. She could always call Finley and Emerson to see if they’d like to join her. The teachers were their neighbors. Finley had been a sorority sister to Harper at UT, while Emerson had roomed with Finley and was also a fellow teacher and divine baker. Ivy was glad both Finley and Emerson were becoming friends of hers, as well. Braden cooked for the four women one night a week, which had really helped them all to bond over the shared dinner.
She pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and locked her vehicle. Going inside, she saw Dax sitting on a bench, waiting for her.
“Hey.” Standing to greet her, he asked, “Did you get everything done that you needed?”
“Yes. How about you?”
“Sean said things were a little slow tonight, so he won’t miss my help. I’ll leave here and go back to Java Junction to close at eight, though.”
She glanced at her watch. It was almost six-thirty. Ninety minutes. Or less, actually. She could do this. A little small talk as they ate. Nothing else.
Dax reached for a tray, handing it to her. Ivy picked up a rolled napkin filled with silverware and set it on the tray, pushing it to where Shy Blackwood stood, meat cleaver in hand.
“Ivy Hart! It’s good to see you. Why have you waited this long to come in? I heard you came back last month.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve been busy, Shy.” She indicated her companion. “Have you met Dax? He’s opened Java Junction on the square.”
Dax reached a hand over the counter, and Shy took it. “Dax Tennyson. I hear you have the best barbeque in the Hill Country.”
At least now she knew Dax’s last name.
“In Texas, Dax. I’d put my barbeque up against anyone in the state.”
“How is Ry doing?” Ivy asked.
Shy grinned. “I think he may be putting in his papers and coming home in the next year or so.”
“That’s fantastic,” she said. Looking to Dax, Ivy added, “Ry is Shy’s son. He’s been in the army ever since he graduated. He and my brother Todd were best friends. “Pausing a moment, she continued. “Todd was killed by friendly fire years ago.”
Dax took her elbow gently. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ivy.”
“Thank you.”
She didn’t talk much about Todd. Or her own background. But something told her Dax Tennyson might understand.
Glancing back at Shy, she said, “I’ll do the two-meat platter. Make it sliced brisket and ribs.”
Shy immediately went to work, his movements a blur before he placed the brisket on her plate and added a side of ribs.
“And for you, Dax?” Shy asked.
“I’ll go with the sausage and sliced brisket.”
Shy filled Dax’s order and handed up both plates to them. “Sides down the line, Dax,” he said. “Nice meeting you.”
“Come into Java Junction, Shy. Coffee on the house—at least the first time.”
The restaurant owner smiled. “Will do.”
As they pushed their trays along the buffet line, she said, “You’re never going to make any money if you keep giving away free coffee.”
He grinned. “But if people like it that first time, they’ll be back. Once I have them hooked, there’s where the profit comes in.” He looked around. “What’s good?”
“Everything,” she said honestly. “Blackwood has always been my favorite place to eat in Lost Creek. I’m partial to the potato salad and baked beans, so that’s what I’ll get tonight. The cole slaw is fantastic. The fries are to die for. And you can’t go wrong with the mac and cheese.”
As he watched her put the potato salad and beans on her tray, Dax said, “I’ll get the slaw and fries. That way, we can share.”
Sharing food was an intimate thing to Ivy. She started to protest and then decided to let it play out. So what if she took a fry from his plate?
They both filled their glasses with iced tea and got to the check-out at the end of the line.
“It’s on me,” he told the cashier.
Ivy didn’t protest. Dax had invited her and was being generous. She would accept the meal.
Instead, she took her tray to a booth. She’d always preferred the privacy a booth gave as opposed to sitting in the middle of a restaurant, surrounded by other tables. Dax followed, setting down his tray and slipping into the booth, removing his dishes and placing them on the table as she did the same. A bus boy quickly appeared and took the trays, telling them the bread would be coming around soon.
“Bread?” Dax asked, opening his napkin to claim his silverware.
“Someone comes around every few minutes with hot cornbread or yeast-filled rolls. And before you ask, both are heavenly.”
He smiled. “Then I’ll have one of each.”
She laughed. “Just try and have one. The bread at Blackwood’s is highly addictive.”
Sure enough, a worker appeared with the large basket, asking them if they wanted rolls or cornbread. Dax replied both.
He took a bite of the fluffy roll and sighed. “You weren’t kidding. This may be the best roll I’ve ever eaten.”
“Told you,” Ivy said, buttering her own and sinking her teeth into it. “This is reason enough to live in Lost Creek.”
“I can see that on the Chamber of Commerce website,” he teased. “Biggest selling point in Lost Creek? Not the antique shops. Not the winery. But the bread at Blackwood BBQ.”
They cut into their meat, and she was surprised how naturally the conversation flowed between them. Dax asked about the town and what it was like to grow up in Lost Creek. He told her about buying the space for Java Junction and learning how to make different coffees.
“I always enjoyed coffee. I started drinking it when I was about eight or nine.”
“Seriously? That young?”
“I had a paper route. Having a little caffeine in me made it easier to get up and go. Of course, we didn’t have anything fancy like a French press. Or even a coffeemaker. It was instant coffee.”
Her nose crinkled hearing that. “Yuck. I’ve only had instant once. It was…” Her voice faded out.
“Disgusting?” he offered, and she laughed.
“Yes. Very.”
“I get that now. But I didn’t know any better. We were poor. It was what Mom bought and drank.”
“And your dad?”
“There was no dad. At least not one I can remember,” Dax explained. “He left before I could form any memories of him. Mom said I wasn’t even two.”
Instinctively, Ivy reached over and took his hand, wanting to comfort him. “I’m so sorry.”
She left her hand a moment and then started to withdraw it, but he put his other hand atop it, keeping it there. “Thank you. I don’t talk about it much. Actually, I don’t talk about it at all. Mom always cobbled together several part-time jobs, working ninety-hour weeks or more. I did my share, working from the time I was young, trying to contribute to the rent and grocery bills.”
A warmth spread through Ivy. Not just from their hands touching, but from Dax sharing this about himself.
“It must have been hard. Did you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Nope. It was always just the two of us.” He paused. “I lost her my first year in college. I won an academic scholarship to SMU, and she was over the moon about it. Just so proud she had a boy going to college. It covered tuition, fees, and books, so I didn’t live in the dorm. At least until she died. A car struck her as she left the bus stop. I wound up moving on campus and stayed there.”
Ivy squeezed his hand. “It must have been hard, being on your own like that. Gosh, I think of what I was like at eighteen. Immature. Head in the clouds. Yes, I’d worked in the vineyards growing up, but I never had a job during the school year. I was too busy with band and classes. And my artwork took up a lot of time.”
“I’ll bet it did. How long will it take you to paint the mural for the mayor?”
“I think I can be done by late next week.”
“What’s it like, painting something so large?” he asked.
She laughed. “Since this is the first time I’m doing a mural, it’s a learning process. The biggest thing I ever painted before was the run-through sign for the football players to burst through on Friday game nights.”
“Then how did you know what to do with this mural?”
Ivy thought a moment. “A huge part of it is instinct. I sketched out some ideas and got approval for one. The rest was simply Googling what to do. I had to prepare the wall first. Prepping the surface took a long time. Other than rain, that brick wall hadn’t been cleaned since the building went up. But I needed it washed it thoroughly in order for the paint to adhere. I wanted the mural to have a long lifespan.”
“I’ll admit that it’s been a little hard for me to figure out what it’s going to be,” he admitted.
“The important thing is to prime the wall and then paint all of the background to begin with. By doing that, the surface has been smoother as I begin the finer details. And I was able to use a paint roller for that, which really cut down on the time.”
“That’s a lot of work before you really begin the actual painting.”
She laughed. “Be sure you tell the mayor that.”
“Why? Has he grumbled about the price?”
“No, I’m not charging him.”
He looked incredulous. “Ivy, you were chastising me for not charging for a cup of coffee. Think of all the hours you’re putting into this mural, not to mention the cost of the paints. Why would you do it for free?”
“First of all, I think giving back to the community is important. I’m depicting different things in the Lost Creek community on it. Second, I haven’t truly painted anything in years, not really since I graduated from college six years ago. My job kept me way too busy. It’s one of the reasons I decided to quit and move back to Lost Creek. I can manage the tasting room and still have plenty of time for my art. This project is letting me get my feet wet again. And if it turns out well, it’s great Ivy Hart advertising.”
“Pretty smart,” he agreed.
“It’s been a fun, interesting way to ease back into art. Yes, I’m also going out and sketching scenery in and around Lost Creek. I’ve even painting two canvases over the past few weeks. But the mural is testing me, which I like. It’s great because I can use the lines of the bricks to my advantage. They’re like a grid, guiding me along. I’m having to use all different sizes of brushes, from large to super-tiny ones for the minute details. I’m hoping it will bring awareness not only to what’s happening in our community, but I also have my fingers crossed that I may earn a few commissions from people seeing my work displayed.”
“It’s nice that when you turn off Main Street onto the town square, it’s the first thing you see,” he pointed out.
“Exactly. So it might not be a Lost Creek resident who hires me to paint something. It might be an out-of-town visitor who does.” She hesitated and then said, “The two paintings I’ve done since I returned home are of the Hill Country landscape. I’ve always seen an immense beauty in these rolling hills and splashes of color. I think I’m meant to paint these landscapes, in all different seasons and from many different points.”
He studied her carefully. “Would you be willing to show me your paintings?”
Ivy hesitated a moment. Her art was so personal to her. Then again, she wanted to get it out there. Maybe Dax might even purchase something she’d done and hang the piece in his coffeehouse. That, too, would be great advertising for her. In fact, she might bring it up—and offer him the painting for free if he would display it at Java Junction.
“Yes. Let’s finish dinner, and then I’ll take you to my studio.”
Dax grinned. “I was going to offer to go back and get some of that blueberry cobbler for us to split. Now, I’d rather leave and see your paintings instead.”
It surprised Ivy how much she wanted to show him her work, hoping to receive his approval.
And just maybe, she might have the opportunity to claim a kiss once they had privacy.