27. Ezra
“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” Hansen whispered as we stood on Leon and Lena’s front porch, waiting for someone to let us in.
“Yes,” I said, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “The Delatous invited us, and you’re going to be on your best behavior.”
“Duh,” he said.
I sighed heavily. I wasn’t sure where he’d picked up that little expression, but I assumed it was from one of his friends at school.
Five going on fifteen.
In truth, Hansen’s question wasn’t too far off base, because I’d been having similar internal struggles about coming here all day. But we’d been invited, and I’d happily take any opportunity to be near Brie, even if it meant spending an evening under the watchful gaze of her entire family.
I supposed I shouldn’t be feeling too honored, though. After all, the Delatous welcomed the entire staff into their home for Thanksgiving. The winery truly was a family business, and they treated their employees as an extension of that. As their head chef, it was only natural I be included.
At last, a shadow appeared on the other side of the fogged glass door, and it opened to reveal none other than Brie .
The cold had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that all the air vacated my lungs in an instant.
I rarely ever saw her with her hair down or in anything but leggings, an oversized tee, and her signature sage-green apron. Tonight, her long, chocolatey strands hung in waves down her back, one side pulled away from her face with a comb fashioned to look like a butterfly wing. As usual, she wore no makeup, save something shiny on her lips, making them look even more plump and luscious than normal.
I willed my cock to stand down.
Her emerald sweater matched the exact shade of her eyes, and her dark denim pants hugged every curve of her lower body, reminding me of what those legs looked like naked and wrapped around my waist.
Fuck, I needed to get it together.
“Welcome, Wendt family!” she said happily, her gaze lingering on mine as she stepped to the side. “Come on in.”
My dad offered her a warm greeting as he crossed the threshold, and Hansen hurried inside after shouting, “Hi, Baker Brie!” and making a beeline toward all the voices deeper in the house. When he reached what I presumed was the kitchen, happy exclamations rang out from the Delatou women at the sight of my little man.
Unfortunately, he had more swag in his pinky than his father did in his entire body.
But I wasn’t worried about charming the entire family—not when I only had eyes for the girl standing a few feet away from me.
I had every intention of moving right past her and following my son and father, but the moment that delectable scent of hers filled my senses, my body acted on its own. I leaned in close, inhaling deeply as I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek.
When I pulled back, I said, “Hey, honey.”
“Hey, Chef,” Brie choked out, and I chuckled. “Thanks for coming.”
“You know I can’t say no to your mom,” I reminded her. “And I definitely wasn’t missing out on the chance to enjoy one of Brie Delatou’s world famous desserts.”
A blush crept into her cheeks, and she ducked her head. “I’m definitely not world famous.”
Brazenly, I tucked a finger under her chin and lifted it so she met my gaze. “You are to me.”
She averted her gaze but couldn’t hold back the grin that bloomed on her mouth.
God, fuck dessert. I wanted to eat her instead.
Clearing my throat and willing my cock not to thicken with that thought—with memories of our one perfect night—I moved out of the way so Brie could shut the door behind me.
I’d been up here a few times in the past couple years for summer holiday gatherings—mainly the Fourth of July—but I’d never been inside the Delatous’ sprawling estate. High on a hill, it overlooked the point of Old Mission Peninsula and the waters of Lake Michigan where they fed into Grand Traverse Bay. Even in the darkness of the late fall evening, the moon glinted on the waves, their distant crashing against the shore calming my frayed nerves.
We reached the entryway to the kitchen, and Brie moved into the room, weaving through her sisters in the direction of the oven, which she pulled open to check on whatever baked inside. Awkwardly, I stood on the threshold, watching the Delatou women circle around each other easily, random snippets of conversations that would never make sense to me in a million years floating my way.
At last, Lena looked up and found me watching them, a warm smile stretching across her mouth.
“Ezra!” She hurried toward me to give me a hug then held me at arm’s length when she pulled away. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you for joining us. I couldn’t bear the thought of the three of you celebrating all alone today.”
“I really appreciate the invitation,” I told her earnestly. I wanted to be here, wanted to be in Brie’s orbit, to ingratiate myself with her family.
To make her family mine one day, and vice versa.
“We’re happy to have you,” she assured me.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, gesturing to the kitchen behind her.
“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “You’re a guest in my home—”
“And guests don’t cook,” Brie finished for her from across the room. With a wink at me, she added, “No matter how good they are.”
I grinned at her. “Then what do you expect me to do with myself?”
“Go down to the den,” Lena said, pointing to another archway down the hall. “All the guys are in there watching the Mustangs game.”
With a shrug and a final imploring look at Brie, who only offered me a demure smile and shake of her head, I made my way toward the guys, finding both my son and father sprawled out on one part of the large sectional—my dad with a bottle of Molson, Hansen with a juice pouch—watching the game and shooting the shit with the rest of them.
Well, Hansen wasn’t shooting the shit so much as he was exclaiming loudly with every hard tackle or big play, peppering Owen with endless questions about how football was played.
My heart swelled in that moment, grateful for these people who had easily welcomed us into the fold and acted like we belonged with them.
Fuck, how badly I wanted to make that a reality.
“Grab yourself a beer, kid,” my dad said, gesturing at the fridge cleverly concealed under a bar top along the back wall. I had to chuckle at the sight he presented, manspread across the couch, fingers lightly gripping the neck of his own drink while he watched the game and conversed with Owen, Leon, Logan, Calvin, and Liam like they were all old friends.
I grabbed a bottle of craft IPA and dropped onto the couch next to my son and Liam.
“Hey man,” Liam said, lifting his own bottle over Hansen’s head in a toast.
“Hey,” I said. “Surprised to see you here.”
Liam chuckled. “I could say the same.”
Liam Danvers was a bit of a wildcard in my opinion. As the winery’s vintner, he was directly involved in the growing of the grapes and production of the wine. Early the past summer, he and Amara had even teamed up to create a line of ready-to-drink, wine-based cocktails that hit the market in June and made a major splash. Personally, I was obsessed with the Lena’s Best Sangria—named, of course, after the Delatou matriarch—as was everyone else. In addition to his job as the CD vintner, he was also an insanely talented mixologist and had some sort of agricultural engineering degree.
The dude was wicked smart, but you’d never know it by the beard, flannels, and tattoos.
“Figured after three years, I could take Lena up on her invitation,” I said noncommittally.
Liam nodded in understanding. “My family lives in Vancouver, and I couldn’t take time off to go home.”
I blinked, surprised. “I didn’t know you were Canadian.”
“Really?” he asked, quirking a brow. “Everyone tells me it’s obvious by my accent.”
“You don’t have an accent,” Hansen said helpfully, and Liam chuckled, reaching out to ruffle my son’s hair.
“I don’t?”
“Nah,” Hansen said, his eyes never straying from the TV. “You sound normal to me.”
I barked out a laugh at my son’s confidence and decided it was nice having Liam here, reminding me I wasn’t the only odd man out around this family.
Plus, I was happy to see him for a different reason.
“So,” I said conversationally, and Liam glanced at me, brows shooting up. “There’s actually something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. You think maybe after the holiday season, we could set up a meeting with Amara to discuss an idea I’ve got?”
Liam shrugged, easy-going as ever. “I don’t see why not.”
“Did I just hear my girl’s name?” Cal asked from across the room.
“Simmer down, Ryder,” Liam said. “It’s work stuff. None of your concern.”
Cal slapped a palm over his heart in mock hurt. “You wound me, Danvers.”
“You say that like you didn’t get yourself fired from the company for being a jackass,” Owen mumbled, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Cal gasped, and Leon barked out a laugh. “You deserved that one, son,” Leon said.
Cal only nodded, hanging his head. “One day, you guys will stop giving me shit for that.”
“Not anytime soon,” I assured him.
“You stay out of this, Wendt,” he said, aiming a finger at me. “You’re not even part of the family.”
Mutely, I stared at him, knowing he was right, though I desperately wanted to weasel my way in, make Brie a part of my family, make her a permanent fixture in the Wendt household.
We could use more of her feminine influence.
“I’m just glad to have all you guys around now,” Leon said to Logan, Cal, and Owen. “This year, you can help me cook for Christmas.”
Early on in my tenure, I learned from Leon that the women cooked Thanksgiving dinner while he was in charge of Christmas—which usually ended with him hiring a caterer.
Last year, that caterer had been me, and I wasn’t being left out this time either.
“I can help too.”
I bit my lips together, as though that would take back the words. These other guys were father, husband, and brother-in-law, and boyfriends of the Delatou women. I was…the chef at their winery. I had no claim to family time or participating in traditions.
Leon waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. If I want you to cook for me, I’ll just come down to the winery.” Then, as if latching onto some thought, those green eyes narrowed on me—eyes so like Brie’s, it was disconcerting and a bit uncomfortable to hold his gaze. “Unless you’ve got something going on with one of my daughters. You know the rules, Wendt,” he said, pointing a finger menacingly at me.
“Oh, give that a rest,” Cal said with an eye roll.
“You’re only saying that because you’re the poster child for breaking the cardinal rule,” Logan said, elbowing him in the side.
“What about Lawless?” Cal sputtered.
“Owen never worked for me,” Leon pointed out.
“And I wasn’t working for you when Amara and I got together either,” Cal retorted.
“Children, children,” Owen said, waving his arms in a simmer down motion. “This is a stupid and useless argument. We all know those girls are going to do whatever the fuck they want, and not a single one of us can tell them otherwise.”
“Plus,” I said quietly into the silence that followed Owen’s proclamation. “Amara is my boss now.”
Excited chuckles and exclamations rang out from the other guys, but Leon sucked in a gasp and sat up straighter. “Which one?”
“Which one, what?” I asked innocently.
“My guess is Brie,” Cal said, shooting me a wink .
“God, you’re such an asshole,” Owen said with a disbelieving laugh. “Between you and Delia, I’ve got my hands full with shit-stirrers.”
“You love me,” Cal said with a cheesy grin.
Owen threw a pillow at his head, and the room erupted into laughter.
But all was not forgotten, at least not by Leon, because when everyone settled again, he said, “ Is it Brie?”
I nodded, giving him a sheepish grin. “I’m kind of crazy about her, and I’d like the chance to pursue it.”
Leon studied me for long moments, those emerald eyes like laser beams flaying through skin and bone straight to my soul, testing my words for verity.
“You’re adults and you don’t need it,” he said at last, “but you’ve got my blessing anyway.”