Page 46 of The Vineyard Crush

Ever since the night on the rooftop something had awoken inside me. At first, it had been easy to dismiss as a fleeting crush, the type of superficial physical attraction a guy feels when he sees a beautiful woman but now I feel protective of her, possessive of her her.

Those sparks of chemistry I thought I was imagining started to feel like a gravitational pull, drawing me in closer whether I wanted it or not. And lately, I could no longer deny that I very much wanted it.

Maybe it was the way Emma always seemed to meet my eyes for just a beat too long, chin dipped in that subtle way that drove me crazy. Or her energetic presence that made her seem to crackle with life, a force of nature I both feared and yearned to be swept up in. Even her mannerisms - constantly twisting a lock of hair or tapping her fingertips in that telltale rhythm only made me want to reach out and still her nervous motions myself.

This had to stop. The lingering stares, the vivid imagination that made it difficult to look at Emma without picturing her in a variety of compromising positions, the acute awareness of her proximity anytime we were in the same room – it was becoming unhealthy. Obsessive, even.

I was a grown man, a father of three wonderful kids who deserved better than for their dad to start leering at the first pretty girl who batted her eyelashes in his direction. Granted, the attraction wouldn’t be so maddening if said girl wasn’t also his best friend’s conniving little sister who likely saw me as some creaky old cowboy.

The hot rush of desire coupled with the tight coil of shame and guilt made me want to slam on the brakes right there. Instead, I white-knuckled the steering wheel and shoved those inappropriate thoughts violently from my mind. I needed to get a grip on myself.

Emma and I could never happen. It was wrong on a dozen different levels. She was too young, too vibrant and full of life. Meanwhile, I was a dusty ranch owner going through a four-year dry spell, embarrassingly out of practice in all things romance and intimacy ever since Melissa left and even before that. My life revolved around chickens and cattle and ensuring my kids wanted for nothing, not yearning after some unattainable fantasy woman a decade younger than me.

When we finally rumbled up the long drive to the ranch house, I killed the engine and sat for a long moment, hands still clenched tight around the wheel. The girls hopped out, their giggles and babbling about whatever movie snacks they wanted fading into the background static in my mind. I stared unseeingly at the rusted ranch gate, my jaw locked rigid.

This was a problem I couldn’t outrun or shove to the side anymore. As much as it made my blood run hot with shame, I would be lying if I said these feelings weren’t quickly becoming all-consuming in the worst way.

The image of Emma, rosy-cheeked and breathless beneath me on those rumpled sheets, resurfaced unbidden in my mind’s eye. I cursed under my breath and pushed out of the truck, slamming the door harder than necessary. Yeah, I had it bad. And if I didn’t get a handle on this raging lust sooner rather than later, I was going to do something unforgivably stupid like actually try to make one of those feverish daydreams a reality.

There was only one solution, as unappealing as it might be: I would have to severely limit my time around Emma from now on. No more casual drop-ins at the vineyard under the flimsiest of pretenses. No more fridaying out on the back patio shooting the breeze over a couple of Lonestar tall boys as the sunset painted the world in shades of burnished gold and rose – the kind of evenings where our conversation and laughter flowed so easily that I almost forgot she was just about a decade too young for the direction my thoughts often strayed.

I called up Ethan while the girls chattered excitedly in the backseat. “Yo Big Daddy!” he says

“Please don’t say that,” I tell him and he chuckles

“What’s up Ridge.?” He asks

“Hey man, you free this evening? Lily and Avery were actually wondering if you and Emma might be able to join us for a family movie night?” I glanced in the rearview mirror at Lily’s hopeful expression. “They really want Emma to come watch Tangled with us.”

There was a brief pause before Ethan responded. “Sure thing, we’d love to.Have you called Em or should I? You know how she gets wrapped up in her projects.”

A soft smirk played across my lips as I thought about Emma, no doubt holed up in her eccentric shed office, obliviously poring over the estate’s social media presence and upcoming event schedule. She had a remarkable ability to seamlessly merge her creative passion with keen business savvy.

“Yeah, that sounds like Emma alright,” I said, feeling an unexpected swell of affection. “I don’t have Emma’s number so you do it. Just let me know what she says. If you both can make it, we’ll do the movie around 9?”

“You got it. Oh, and I’ll bring some wine from the vineyard to make it a proper occasion,” Ethan added with a wry chuckle before ending the call.

Lily’s voice piped up as I entered my Ranch house. “Is Emma coming, Dad? Didja ask Uncle Ethan?”

“He’s checking with her now, princess,” I replied as I ushered them to shower and then into their PJs “Why don’t you two head inside and get the living room ready? I’ll be right behind you after I get cleaned up a bit.”

I ushered Avery and Lily inside, stealing a moment alone to climb the stairs to my bedroom with uncharacteristic haste. Despite my typically low-maintenance self, I found myself standing before the full-length mirror and fussing with my appearance in a way I couldn’t recall doing since…well, a long time.

Stripping off my dusty ranch clothes, I turned on the shower and stepped beneath the steaming spray, giving myself a cursory scrub and appreciating the way the pulsing water sluiced away the day’s grime and tension. As I lathered up my hair, I inhaled the invigorating cedary notes of my shampoo and ruminated on the unexpected flutters coursing through me at the prospect of seeing Emma again.

Truthfully, my feelings regarding the lovely, free-spirited woman had become…complicated of late. Increasingly, my mind would drift to her at the most unexpected moments—when I’d spot a blooming lavender field swaying in the evening breeze, or read a verse of whimsical poetry, or indulge in the plummy bouquet of one of the estate’s finer vintages.

It was foolish, I knew, to dwell on someone so inherently vibrant and unfettered, someone who seemed to flit through the world like a kaleidoscopic hummingbird while I remained stubbornly earthbound. Except lately, the thought of Emma’s warmth and unrestrained laughter had increasingly beckoned to me like a siren call amidst the loneliness.

Shaking my head at my uncharacteristic woolgathering, I toweled off and swiped a palm across the fog-misted mirror to take in my reflection. It wasn’t as if I was an ugly man, not by any stretch—my chiseled features and the rigorous demands of ranch life had ensured I maintained a lean, muscular physique well into my late 30s. And yet, I couldn’t quite seem to muster much enthusiasm about my external surface trappings or to silence those nagging inward whispers that perhaps I’d become too calloused…too world-weary and closed-off in the wake of Mellisa’s departure.

I run a hand through my damp hair, tousling it just how I know Emma secretly appreciates. Not that I’m trying to impress her or anything. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I give my reflection one last onceover in the mirror, straightening the soft cotton henley that skims my torso.

With Lily and Avery waiting downstairs, I know I need to get a handle on these wandering thoughts and feelings where Emma is concerned. She’s my neighbor, my friend, and most importantly, Ethan’s baby sister. Surely these…stirrings are just temporary insanity brought on by being a single dad for too long.

Yeah, that has to be it. I’m just starved for some long-overdue female companionship, that’s all. Emma’s kind heart and warm spirit are bound to appeal to any lonely soul, not to mention her smiling beauty and effortless grace. But I need to get a grip before I make a fool of myself tonight.

By the time I rejoin the girls in the living room, I’ve managed to plaster on what I hope is a relaxed, unbothered expression. Lily is settling on the couch, bowl of popcorn in her lap, while Avery sits hugging one of her stuffed animals nearby, looking as excited as any three-year-old can for a Disney movie night.

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