Page 35 of The Vineyard Crush

“Yeah, they’re out back with Jonny, grooming the horses.”

“And how about you?” I asked, unable to stop myself from drinking in every rugged detail – from the crease between his furrowed brows to the way his plaid shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders.

One side of his mouth kicked up in that trademark smirk. “Is this an interrogation, little bird?”

That ridiculous nickname again, somehow both infuriating and endearing all at once. I rolled my eyes, giving my head the smallest shake. “No, just…wondering if you and the kids would maybe like to go down to the stream? On vineyard property?”

Ridge’s eyes narrowed for a beat before glancing out the window, seemingly weighing my offer. I could practically see the wheels turning as he debated accepting an olive branch from his prickly neighbor.

When his gaze returned to me, I fought not to fidget under the weight of that intense stare. “The stream, huh?” A dawning smile slowly spread across his face, crinkling the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes in a way that did bizarre things to my pulse. “Thought that might be off limits, being Vineyard property and all.”

“Well, I’m making an exception,” I gave a nonchalant shrug, fighting to keep my expression casual despite the way my heart was tap dancing against my ribcage. Was I really about to invite Ridge McCords on a picnic? With his kids? The words nearly strangled in my throat, but I mustered every ounce of determination and added, “If you’re interested, that is.”

For one torturous moment, Ridge simply studied me, his expression inscrutable as those penetrating green eyes bored into mine. I couldn’t read his thoughts, but I could have sworn I detected a slight muscle ticking in that chiseled jaw, giving away the internal battle he seemed to be waging.

Then, so agonizingly slow, he rose from the chair, his powerful frame unfolding like a predator about to pounce on its prey. With several prowling strides, he closed the distance between us until he towered over me, near enough that I could smell his earthy, masculine scent—just a hint of sweat and well-worn leather. My breath hitched as he leaned in closer still, the roughened stubble along his jaw scratching my flushed cheek when his lips brushed the delicate shell of my ear.

“If you want me to do something,” he murmured in that maddeningly low rasp that curled my toes, “just say the word, little bird.”

A shiver danced down my spine at the rumbling timbre, the teasing lilt he gave my ridiculous nickname sending a new blush blossoming across my skin. Gathering every scattered brain cell, I tilted my head back to meet his smugly arched brow with what I hoped was an equally impassive stare rather than the lusty, awestruck expression I felt spreading across my face.

“Well then, Mr. Cowboy,” I managed in a tone far breezier than I felt, “take a break and we can go on a picnic.”

The teasing glint in Ridge’s eyes dimmed momentarily, that infuriatingly blank mask slipping back into place as he straightened and put a few crucial inches between us. My lungs burned, realizing I’d been holding my breath while caught in his sphere. When he didn’t respond right away, panic began to set in that I’d severely overstepped, misread every single brewing spark between us over these past few months.

Just as I started mentally berating myself, the corner of his mouth quirked upward in an approving slant. “I’ll go grab the rugrats,” he stated simply, already turning on his boot heel and striding for the door with that bowlegged ranch swagger.

I released the breath I’d been holding in a relieved whoosh, my knees actually wobbling with a dizzying mixture of lingering desire and bone-deep gratitude that he’d agreed. Sinking onto the beat-up leather sofa beside Avery, I resisted the urge to bury my flushed face in my hands, choosing instead to focus on taking long, steadying inhales through my nose.

Get a grip, Emma, I chastised myself sternly. It’s just a picnic with the neighbours. Ignore the fact that said neighbour is six-feet-and-then-some of gorgeous, gruff, single-dad perfection who you’ve been semi-lusting after for weeks now. Nothing to set your heart pounding and your internal thermostat spiking…

The office door banged open, admitting a flurry of rowdy voices that jarred Avery to jump into my arms. Ridge reappeared, wrangling two squirming, giggling bodies under each arm—a tiny denim-clad tornado and her blond pigtailed counterpart. My breath caught at the sight of him, so effortlessly paternal and protective, his stern features completely transformed by the adoring grin he bestowed on his daughters.

“You two quit that wiggling and listen up,” he rumbled in that no-nonsense dad-voice, somehow making the command sound more gruff than harsh. Immediately, Lily and Cody stilled, twin sets of bright eyes locking on their father with rapt attention. “Miss Emma’s taking us on a picnic down by the stream, if you munchkins can mind your manners.”

The high-pitched shrieks of unrestrained glee threatened to scramble my eardrums as the youngest McCords predictably vibrated with excitement, their chubby legs kicking wildly. Even Cody couldn’t contain the dimpled grin splitting his freckled cheeks as Ridge deposited them on the floor with an affectionate ruffle of Lily’s messy curls.

Lily and Cody didn’t need to be told twice. The second Ridge’s boots hit the ground, they were off like unleashed torpedoes, shrieking with glee as they raced toward the glittering creek in the distance. Scooby, the massive Labrador Ridge had, bounded along at their heels, yapping and lurching in a tangle of wagging tail and flailing limb.

“You two stay where I can see you!” Ridge hollered after the rapidly disappearing figures, his deep voice reverberating with a familiar mixture of stern warning and resigned endearment.

Shifting Avery higher on his hip, he shook his head, muttering something unintelligible under his breath before glancing sidelong at me. One dark brow inched upward as he jerked his chin in the direction the kids had fled. “You sure about this, little bird? Still, time to back out before the circus arrives.”

A surprising burst of laughter bubbled up from my chest at his dry attempt at humor. Squinting against the midday sun peeking through the trees, I watched as Lily flung herself into the shallow creek with a mighty splash, Cody following suit a beat later. Droplets of water glittered like diamonds in the air before raining back down in a sparkling mist.

In that moment, everything else faded away—All that mattered were those two tiny, carefree souls, entirely consumed by the simple pleasures of sunshine and playtime and nature.

“And miss the fun?” I quipped, already shrugging off my jacket and bending to roll up the hems of my jeans. “You’d have to be crazy.”

Then I was tearing off across the grassy bank, uncaring of the chill that immediately prickled my bare arms, of the way my hair whipped wildly across my face with every sprinting stride. Lily released a squeal of pure delight as I hurtled into the creek beside her, crisp water surging over the tops of my boots and soaking through the denim in seconds. Not that I cared in the slightest as I scooped the gurgling little girl into my arms and spun in a circle, every inch of me coming alive under the magic of her tinkling laughter.

Cody aimed a wicked splash in my direction that I only half-dodged, shrieking at the icy shock against my cheek. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now, mister!” I crowed, doubling over with breathless laughter that only escalated when Lily promptly launched herself at her big brother, intent on exacting swift retaliation.

I was only vaguely aware of Ridge watching on from the bank, one hand shielding Avery’s eyes, while the other pressed firmly to his stomach as his deep chuckles mingled with his daughters’ high-pitched giggles. In that blissful pocket of time, the world beyond the four of us simply ceased to exist—no looming deadlines or vineyard pressures, no ghosts from our respective pasts weighing us down. Just pure, unfettered happiness flowing as freely as the bubbling creek.

Eventually, the morning chill began to sink under my skin, and I lifted my face to take in our tiny slice of paradise. The massive oaks and sycamore trees swayed gently in the crisp breeze, rustling the last of the changing leaves in a kaleidoscope of amber and crimson and rust. Sunlight filtered through the branches in bright dappled patterns, sparking off the clear rushing water like a thousand scattered gemstones. Utterly breathtaking. I made a mental note to see if I could steal Kate away to take some promotional photos for the website and tasting room. Nothing could possibly capture the magic of this place better.

Climbing onto the bank, I moved to retrieve the tote of wine and cheese and fruit and the cozy flannel blanket I’d packed, only to pause mid-stride. Because Ridge was already there, blanket spread out neatly in a dry spot beneath a twisting oak, the tote’s contents artfully arranged like he was setting up for a freaking photoshoot.

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