Page 19 of The Vineyard Crush

Emma looked so peaceful in that moment, her features relaxed and unguarded, devoid of the weight that seemed to perpetually rest upon her shoulders. A stray lock of hair fell across her face, rising and falling with each gentle exhale, and I found myself fighting the overwhelming urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

Just as I was about to give in to the temptation, the sudden wail of Avery’s cries erupted from the baby monitor, shattering the tranquil spell that had enveloped us. Emma stirred beside me, her eyes fluttering open as she was abruptly pulled back into the waking world.

Reluctantly, I shuffled to my feet, my muscles protesting the movement after having remained so deliciously still for who knows how long. Emma mirrored my actions, a sleepy haze still clinging to her like a gossamer veil.

“I should go,” she murmured, her voice thick with the remnants of slumber. She took a tentative step forward, but her legs seemed to betray her, causing her to slip precariously.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I surged forward, my arms encircling her waist and drawing her flush against my chest. The sudden proximity sent a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins, setting every nerve ending ablaze.

Emma let out a soft gasp, her warm breath fanning across my neck as she instinctively clung to me for support. For a heartbeat, we stood frozen, our bodies intertwined in a delicate dance, my senses overwhelmed by her intoxicating presence.

“You’re too groggy for that,” I whispered, my voice a ragged whisper as I fought to regain control over the tempest of emotions raging within me. “I’ll bring you down, and you can take my guest room. Your shed is a long walk.”

Emma didn’t protest, didn’t even seem to have the energy to argue. Instead, she simply snuggled deeper into my embrace, letting out a contented sigh that sent tremors skittering down my spine.

Taking her wordless acquiescence as consent, I cradled her in my arms, lifting her with a surprising ease that belied her delicate frame. Emma’s head lolled against my shoulder, her breath warm and gentle against the curve of my neck, and I had to force myself to focus on the task at hand lest I become hopelessly lost in the moment.

With careful, measured steps, I made my way down from the loft, navigating the dimly lit staircase with the utmost care. Each step felt like a tightrope walk, the weight of Emma’s body in my arms both grounding and dizzying all at once.

The journey seemed to stretch on for an eternity, each second ticking by with an agonizing slowness that only served to heighten my awareness of the precious cargo I carried. By the time we reached my bedroom, my heart was thundering against my ribcage, a staccato rhythm that threatened to drown out all other sound.

Gently, reverently, I deposited Emma onto the rumpled sheets of my bed, taking a moment to simply drink in the sight of her sprawled across the expanse of crisp cotton. She looked so small, so vulnerable in that moment, and a fierce surge of protectiveness welled up within me, threatening to consume me whole.

With trembling fingers, I reached for the thin blanket folded at the foot of the bed, carefully draping it over Emma’s prone form. Even in the throes of slumber, she seemed to instinctively burrow deeper into the cocoon of warmth, a soft sigh of contentment escaping her parted lips.

I lingered for a moment longer, my gaze tracing the delicate curve of her cheek, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, committing every detail to memory. It was a moment frozen in time, a fleeting glimpse of perfection that I knew could never truly be mine to keep.

But in that instant, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the woman lying before me, a beacon in the darkness that had become my life, a constant reminder that even in the bleakest of moments, beauty and wonder still existed.

Forcing myself to tear my gaze away, I turned and slipped from the room, leaving Emma to the peace and sanctuary of her slumber. Avery’s cries echoed through the empty hallway, a persistent reminder of the responsibilities that still awaited me.

With a heavy sigh, I made my way to the nursery, my steps weighted by the burden of unspoken emotions that seemed to cling to me like a shroud. As I crossed the threshold, the sight of my daughter’s tear-streaked face tugged at my heartstrings, instantly shifting my focus to the task at hand.

“Shhh, Daddy’s here,” I murmured, scooping Avery into my arms and cradling her against my chest. Her tiny fists clenched and unclenched, seeking purchase against the fabric of my shirt as she fought to quell her sobs.

I paced the length of the room, swaying gently from side to side as I hummed a soothing melody, the familiar tune ingrained into my very being after countless nights spent soothing Avery’s cries. Gradually, her whimpers began to subside, her body slowly relaxing into the comforting rhythm of our dance.

Ten

Emma

The first thing that enveloped me as I drifted into consciousness was an intoxicating scent – a heady blend of rich, earthy notes intertwined with the unmistakable aroma of warm, musky wood. It was a scent so utterly intoxicating, so utterly captivating, that I found myself instinctively burrowing deeper into the cocoon of soft, inviting sheets, desperate to immerse myself fully in its alluring embrace.

For a fleeting moment, everything else faded away – the worries that had plagued me, the burdens that had weighed so heavily upon my shoulders, even the persistent ache that had taken root deep within my soul. All that existed was this moment, this delicious instant of pure, unadulterated bliss.

But as the hazy tendrils of sleep slowly dissipated, reality came crashing back in a dizzying rush. With a start, I realized that the bed I was nestled in, the sheets that caressed my skin with such tantalizing softness, were not my own.

“Shit,” I breathed, the word slipping past my lips in a hushed whisper as the weight of the realization settled upon me.

Had I truly allowed myself to indulge in such a deliciously vivid fantasy, or had the unthinkable actually transpired? Had the deliciously rugged, tantalizingly off-limits Ridge – my smoldering next-door neighbor and single dad extraordinaire – truly swept me up into his arms and carried me off into the night, like some sort of modern-day prince charming?

The mere thought sent a giddy thrill coursing through my veins, igniting a blazing trail of heat that licked at my very core. Before I could stop myself, a breathless squeal of delight escaped my lips, the sound muffled by the pillow I clutched tightly against my chest.

God, what was wrong with me? I was acting like a lovestruck teenager, all flushed cheeks and breathless sighs over a man who, for all intents and purposes, should have been utterly off-limits. Ridge was a father, a man with responsibilities and burdens that I could scarcely fathom. He was the epitome of everything I should have been steering clear of, a temptation far too dangerous to even entertain.

And yet, here I was, cocooned in the very essence of him, surrounded by the intoxicating aura that seemed to cling to every fiber of his existence. It was utterly intoxicating, utterly consuming, and I found myself powerless to resist its siren call.

With a trembling hand, I reached out, my fingers skimming across the crisp cotton of the pillowcase, seeking out the lingering traces of Ridge’s scent. It was there, woven into the very fabric, a heady blend of earthy musk and something undeniably, deliciously masculine.

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