Page 44 of Love You Truly

If anything, he’s gentlemanly and sweet. I never could have known this about him based on the rumors about his lady killing ways, but he’s kind of a sweetheart underneath the pretty face and shoulders so broad they’re practically tearing his suit.

I rest a hand on his shoulder, then let it slide down his bicep. I have to stop myself from sighing at the muscular curve of his arm, which makes me want to touch more of him.

“Ah, there’s the happy couple.” I bristle at Felix’s raspy voice, which irritates me a little more each time I hear it.

“Nice to see you,” I say politely, hoping he’ll leave it at that and go away.

He nods. “You too. Always happy to see you.” He twirls his finger around a tendril of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. It’s too familiar, but that’s Felix. Not good with boundaries.

“Get your goddamn hands off my wife.” Dash’s voice booms in a low, threatening growl. It’s not loud enough for anyone to hear beyond our table, but it sends a chill down my spine.

A delicious, beautiful chill I’ll feel for days. He’s hotter than hot, and it’s all I can do not to reach over and lick his neck.

Down, girl. Eat the Mallomar instead.

Felix removes his hand like he touched something hot. “Neanderthal,” he mutters, walking away.

“Possessive like that?” Dash asks with a smirk.

“Yes. Exactly like that. Your high school thespian work is really paying off.”

His smile dims just a bit, and I worry I’ve offended him somehow. But then PJ sweeps past Dash and gives him a playful pat on the head. “These seats taken?” She points at the two empties opposite us.

I see Dash start to protest, and PJ tugs at her blond updo with a smile. “Not for us, silly. But there’s a reporter here from Wine Style, and I want her sitting right in the middle of all the action. Save the other seat, too, in case I nab another reporter.” PJ handles press relations and social media for Buttercup Hill, and I know she’s good at her job based on the great coverage the winery always gets after events. “Thanks for bailing us out with the offer of your harvest, by the way,” she whispers.

I sit bolt upright. Dash mentioned needing grapes when we made our deal, but we never talked about me selling them.

“Hey, am I selling grapes to Buttercup Hill?” I try to keep my tone light.

“What?” Dash looks confused.

“PJ just mentioned it.”

He waves a hand. “No, she’s thinking of something else,” Dash explains. “And she’s also annoying.”

“Spoken like an older brother.”

Now that I watch PJ in action, I see that she curates exactly who she wants to have photographed and does nice things for magazine writers to ensure Buttercup stays on their minds. But I can’t help wondering if all of his talk about honesty is just the way he plays his game. He knows how to sweet-talk people. I need to make sure I don’t fall victim to it.

“These are all things I’ll need to do when Autumn Lake rolls out its first new vintages,” I say, taking mental notes. “I’ll either need to hire someone like PJ or do it all myself. Kind of have a feeling I’ll be doing it myself. At least at first.”

I barely realize I’m talking out loud until Dash answers me.

“You can’t do everything yourself. You’ll burn out. But you’ll cross that bridge…”

He’s silenced by the tap on a microphone by the auctioneer who’s just stepped to the front of the room. He’s a tall, barrel-chested man, and with that comes a deep voice. He introduces himself and directs everyone to the auction catalogs on the tables and the numbered paddles we were all given when we entered.

“Who’s ready to bid on some wine and do some good for the community?” his voice booms to a round of applause.

“You gonna bid on anything?” Dash asks, thumbing through the catalog and squinting at the vintages of wine offerings by the flickering candle on the table.

I shrug. “There are a couple in there I wouldn’t mind drinking someday, but I probably shouldn’t be spending big bucks on rare wines if I want to focus on growing a business.”

“On the contrary. Bid, win, make a name for yourself here tonight. People will remember it when Autumn Lake’s first vintage is ready for tasting. You’ll be the one with the discerning taste in wine.”

He may have a point. I look around the room and see that everyone has their eyes on the auctioneer, so I focus, taking a pen from my purse so I can mark items that catch my interest.

There’s more than just wine here. I note a weekend for two at a posh spa I’ve never been to, but I need to stick to wine. That’s what will get people’s attention in this room. Dash is right.

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