33. Trinity
Trinity
I couldn’t remember a time when I’d spent an entire evening with just my parents.
Usually the only time I saw them was when the whole family had been summoned together.
But tonight? I’d actually enjoyed myself.
Maybe I was growing up. Or maybe it was because Mom and Dad had finally decided to support me in my new venture.
But most likely, it was because of the man sitting next to me.
The man whose hand was wrapped around mine under the table while we sipped coffee and shared the biggest piece of tiramisu I’d ever seen.
“So, Trinity…” Dad leaned back from the table and slipped his arm around Mom. “When can I expect to get a peek at that business plan you mentioned?”
The business plan. I figured he’d bring that up before we said our goodbyes. “Oliver’s just helping me put some finishing touches on it.”
“We should have it ready by the end of next week,” Oliver said, giving my hand a quick squeeze.
My heart skipped half a beat. I owed him a major favor for having my back on that. Hopefully, he’d be in the mood to collect later tonight when we got back to his place.
“That’s great. Any idea what her projected P&L might look like at the end of year one?” Dad asked.
I used the edge of my fork to carve out another bite of dessert. “Sorry, Dad. No spoilers. You’ll have to wait.”
He grinned and shook his head. “I’m just so proud of you for taking a chance. Can’t blame me for wanting to mitigate the risk.”
“That’s a lot of money you’re working with.” Mom nodded and took a small sip of her coffee.
“I know, Mom.” I felt the pressure every day. Not only was I risking Grandma’s money—I was also trying to preserve her legacy. It was a lot for someone who still didn’t even have a permanent address.
“Should we talk about the party?” Dad asked.
“Sure.” I set my fork down on the side of my plate. No more tiramisu or I’d end up in a sugar-and-wine coma. Between the carbs, dessert, and expensive red, I was already getting sleepy.
“Your mother and I talked about having a private cocktail reception right there in your shop. Passed hors d'oeuvres, a full bar. What do you think?”
“I think that would be great. But totally unnecessary.” I tried to picture my family, decked out in suits and cocktail dresses, standing among mannequins and bins of yarn.
“We want to do this for you,” Mom said, her eyes taking on that dreamy look she got when she felt nostalgic. “We never got to throw you a graduation party.”
“Here we go,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for Oliver to hear.
His hand tightened around mine.
“And who knows if we’ll ever get to have an engagement party or a wedding reception.” Mom skipped her coffee and finished the last sip of wine in her glass.
“I appreciate it. If you’d like to plan a party, that would be fantastic.” If I gave in a little here, maybe I’d earn some karma points for whatever crisis came next.
“Oliver, I’d really like to get some of your family’s wine to serve at the party. It would mean a lot to us if we could figure out a way to make that happen.” Dad nodded, like he’d just willed it into existence.
Oliver stiffened beside me. “Oh, um, I can check, but I don’t know that we’d be able to make arrangements in time.” His spine straightened and his chest puffed out as he drew in a breath.
“Money’s not an object. You’re part of Trinity’s life and we want to celebrate that along with her grand opening. Just give her the vineyard’s contact info, and I’ll have my people take care of everything.”
“I’ll have to look that up when I get back. Thank you.” Oliver let go of my hand and picked up his wine.
The server dropped off the bill and Oliver reached for his wallet.
“I’ve got this, son.” Dad slid his platinum card into the sleeve, not even glancing at the bill. I was used to him covering everything, but for Oliver it probably came as a bit of a surprise.
“Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Ryan.” He pushed back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”
“Of course.” Dad nodded.
I watched Oliver wind his way through the tables toward the restroom, wishing I could go with him.
I could really use a kiss right now. Or maybe even a quickie in the back hall.
My cheeks flushed as I remembered who I was sitting with.
Still, he’d gotten under my skin, cracked open the shell of my heart.
This wasn’t just physical anymore. I was falling—headfirst and without a safety net—for Oliver Martin.
“What do you know about that boy?” Dad’s voice snapped my attention back to the table.
“What do you mean? He’s from New Zealand. Just finished his MBA. If he doesn’t find a job, he’ll have to go home. What else do you want to know?” I frowned, confused.
“He’s hiding something.”
“Now, Patrick,” Mom cut in. “I know you’re not used to Trinity having a boyfriend…”
“It’s not that. I checked up on him. There’s no Martin family involved with any vineyards in southern New Zealand.”
“What do you mean you checked up on him? Maybe it’s under a different name. Could be his mom’s family, not his dad’s.” My chest tightened. I thought they finally respected me. That they trusted me. “Is that why you asked us to dinner? To grill him?”
“Of course not. I just want to make sure he’s not trying to use you. You’ve got a lot of money tied up in that business. There are men who prey on women?—”
“Stop right there.” I pushed back, nearly knocking over my chair. “I can’t believe you. I thought things had changed. That you were ready to treat me like an adult. Like the grown woman I am. But this—” I pulled several bills out of my wallet—“this is a whole new low.”
“Take your money.” Dad tried to stuff the cash back into my purse. “That’s not what this is about at all.”
“Keep it. I don’t want your money, and I don’t need your support.” I turned and stalked toward the back hall, blinking furiously, not trusting myself to look back without crying.
Oliver stepped out of the men’s room, adjusting his collar. I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door at the end of the hall.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping short. “What happened?”
I turned to face him, tears slipping down my cheeks. “Can we get out of here? I need to go.”
“Of course.” He put an arm around my shoulder and pushed through the back door into the alley.
I gulped in the cool night air. I didn’t even care that we were standing behind a restaurant in an alley. “I’m sorry. I had to get out of there.”
“What happened?” He faced me, his palm cupping my cheek. “Why are you so upset?”
I leaned against the brick and tried to steady my breathing. “My dad. I thought he trusted me. That he wanted to see me succeed.”
“What changed?” He leaned in, touching his forehead to mine.
Our eyes met, and just like that, all the emotion welled up again. He saw me—really saw me—and it cracked me open all over again.
“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” All I wanted was to feel something besides the ache in my chest. His arms around me helped. I buried my head in his chest, holding him tight, hoping to block out everything else.
“What can I do to help?” he whispered.
I tilted my face up just enough to kiss him. “Distract me.”
His hand slid down my side, reached around, and pulled me tighter. I pressed my body to his, needing the heat, the contact. His moan vibrated through me as his hands found my ass and his mouth explored my neck. I guided his hand to the front of my skirt, not even thinking.
He slipped it past the waistband, over my stomach, and under my panties. My breath caught. I rose to my toes as he moved lower.
God, yes.
He grazed my ribs with one hand while the other stroked between my legs. When I ground against him, he moved his hand just out of reach. It made me groan. My body was already aching. His mouth covered mine as I moaned into him, pushing harder.
Then he found the spot. Slipped his fingers inside me. And I shattered, clinging to his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure flooded through me. My knees buckled, and I would’ve collapsed if he hadn’t held me up.
His mouth kissed along my temple, my hair, my eyelids. I clung to him, trying to calm my racing pulse.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, brushing my hair from my cheek.
I nodded. “Take me home?”
“To Macy’s?”
“No. To your place.” Right then, I jumped all in with Oliver Martin. I’d find a way to make sure he stayed in the States—whatever it took. I wasn’t letting him go.
He didn’t look surprised. He just took my hand and led me down the alley toward his bike.