Page 71 of The Vineyard Crush

“Morning,” he grumbled, collapsing into the empty chair across from Ethan. He snagged the full carafe, pouring himself a mug and draining half of it in three long gulps. With a sigh, he leaned back and leveled Ethan with an unapologetic look over the rim. “Yeah, well, Marty dragged out that damn poker game longer than planned.”

“I’ll say,” Ethan snorted. “You look like you got hit by the hangover express, bro. Tell me you least won back some of your dignity.”

Leo allowed a roguish grin to curve those unfairly chiseled features of his. “Only way to find out is next time you join us for the re-match.”

Before Ethan could accept the open challenge, two tiny blonde whirlwinds came careening across the terrace, all giggles and exuberant shrieks. Lily and Avery, moving twin comets of unbridled energy, hurtled straight for me at full speed.

“Emmy!” they chorused in sync, colliding solidly against my shins as I crouched with my arms spread wide to enfold them.

“Hey, little sprouts,” I laughed, pressing a smacking kiss to each golden head. “You two excited for Grape Stomp Day?”

A rapid-fire patter of answers tumbled forth as they nodded enthusiastically, bouncing in my arms with puppyish exuberance. Ruffling their silky tresses, I glanced up to find an indulgent look of paternal pride crinkling the laugh lines around Ridge’s eyes.

As though summoned by my mere thought, there he stood in the stone archway, all rugged handsomeness in his battered Stetson and faded denim. His broad shoulders filled the worn leather of his ranch jacket, caked in the unique, earthy-and-leather scent that was distinctly Ridge.

The moment our gazes met and locked, that same inexplicable magnetic pull zapped through me—a visceral, pounding need to be near him that stripped me of conscious thought. Every finely-chiseled plane and shadowed angle of his face I’d already memorized somehow struck me anew, conjuring a flickering tendril of yearning in my core.

As though in slow motion, his lush mouth curved in that halfway smile I’d come to crave more than the bouquet of an aged Bordeaux. “Mornin’, little flower.” That smokey rasp slipped through my defenses like a caress, his term of endearment both benediction and incantation to summon me directly into his orbit.

Unable to resist the gravitational pull, I drifted toward him until his calloused fingers grazed the curve of my jaw with a whisper of exquisite tenderness. The simple contact sent tingles of longing spiraling through me as his nose grazed the slope of my cheek, mouth brushing a devastatingly unhurried kiss there.

“Hey, cowboy.” My voice emerged husky, fraught with an intimacy we still kept veiled around the kids and family. With a last, lingering caress of his lips, Ridge finally pulled back mere inches—only to have his gaze arrested by the watchful figure of my older brother now standing protectively beside me.

“So you’re the infamous cowboy I’ve been hearin’ so much about.” The trademark smirk curved Leo’s mouth as he extended one hand in greeting. “Leone Harrison—but most just called me Leo. The big brother.”

Ridge’s eyes flickered toward me, a silent question in the green depths. I gave an imperceptible nod. He exhaled, then turned to shake Leo’s outstretched hand, his grip firm and cordial despite the tightness around his eyes.

The door swung open, admitting James and Cody in a swirl of crisp mountain air. James’s face lit up as he caught sight of me. “Hello, Emma. You look stunning as always.” His gaze swept over me in clear appreciation.

A low rumble sounded from Ridge’s direction. James shot his older brother an unrepentant grin and shrugged. Pivoting toward Leo, he stuck out his hand. “Hey, I’m James, this behemoth’s younger brother.”

Leo’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes as he clasped James’s hand. “Leo. Emma and Ethan’s big brother. Nice to meet you.” His gaze dipped meaningfully to the cable-knit sweater stretched across James’s broad chest. “I like the look.”

An endearing flush crept up James’s neck. “Oh…uh, thanks.” He tugged self-consciously at the hem. “It gets crazy cold in that tiny box they call my classroom. Being a lit professor doesn’t exactly put you at the top of the heating priority list.”

Leo’s eyes danced with interest at the mention of literature. My heart swelled at the familiar sparkle. The door banged open again, admitting a tall, dark-haired man I vaguely recognized from a night at the pub a few weeks back. A petite young woman with azure eyes and chin-length ebony tresses trailed in his wake, hands jammed in her pockets as she surveyed the room with open curiosity.

Ridge stiffened beside me, the motion jostling Avery where she cuddled against his chest. Extricating one hand from his coat, he extended it to the newcomer. “Martin, good to see you again.”

Martin’s grip engulfed Ridge’s in a crushing shake. A high-pitched squeal shattered the air. “Mel!” Lily launched herself at the young woman, wrapping her in an enthusiastic hug that made her stagger.

Mel’s surprised expression melted into a warm smile, crinkling the corners of her azure eyes. “Hey Lily,” she rasped, patting Lily’s back. “It’s been too long.” She pulled back, shooting a playful glare at Cody over Lily’s head. “You keeping this one out of trouble?”

Cody flashed a roguish grin, slinging an arm around Lily’s shoulders. “Trying my damnedest, but you know how she is.”

Mel snorted indelicately, shoving her hands back into her pockets. “Don’t I ever.”

“That’s my daughter, Melera,” Martin interjected with a proud smile.

Mel whipped around, eyes blazing. “Dad! What did I say about the full name?”

Martin held up his hands in surrender, though his expression remained unabashedly adoring. “Mel used to babysit for us before she went to college,” Ridge explained to me. “Smart as a whip and kept these two terrors in line.” He jerked his chin at Lily and Cody, who rolled his eyes heavenward.

“I certainly tried,” Mel said dryly. She swept me with an assessing look from beneath absurdly long lashes. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Mel.”

I extended my hand, unable to repress a grin at her frankness. “Emma. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her grip was deceptively strong, her callused fingers suggesting a athlete beneath the slim build. “You too.” She canted her head.

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