Page 8 of The Vineyard Crush

Emma

The bell above the reception area door jingles, and my heart stutters in my chest as Ridge strides in, Avery cradled securely in his muscular arms. It’s like a bolt of electricity surging through me just from laying eyes on him again. Twice in one morning is simply unfair - how is a girl supposed to catch her breath and recover when he keeps appearing like some kind of mirage conjured from my deepest desires?

I almost topple right off my chair as our gazes lock. Those forest green eyes of his feel like they’re piercing straight through to my soul. The man is pure rugged masculinity from the tousled midnight black hair peeking out from under his cowboy hat to the scuffed boots encasing his feet. A dark scruff shadows his chiseled jawline, like he hasn’t shaved in a day or two, only amplifying his roguish appeal. But it’s the shirt straining against the sculpted contours of his chest that really does me in. I can practically see every ridged plane and valley of those pecs and abs through the thin cotton fabric. He’s every ranch hand fantasy come to life.

“Hey,” Ridge rumbles in that low baritone that has a Pavlovian effect on my insides. There’s the barest hint of a smirk playing on those full, plump lips as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

The single gravelly syllable is like being caressed by velvet, and I have to clench my thighs together as desire pools hotly between my legs. Get a grip, Emma! I mentally rebuke myself, heat flooding my cheeks. This man is a father - he probably just wants someone to watch his kid for a little while, not fantasize about debauching him over the reception desk. Though now that I’ve had the thought, I can’t seem to shake the image of me splayed out on the sleek wood surface, skirt hiked up as Ridge’s muscular frame looms over me, trailing scorching kisses along my overheated skin…

“Hey,” I finally manage to croak out, my voice emerging an embarrassingly breathy rasp. Way to play it cool, genius. I push up from my chair, legs trembling faintly like a newborn colt’s, and come around to the front of the counter. Squaring my shoulders, I paste on what I hope is a warm, normal smile as I greet Avery. “Hey, sweetie.”

Ridge shifts the adorable little girl higher onto his hip, her cherubic face brightening as she recognizes me. “emememe!” she babbles excitedly, making grabby hands in my direction.

“What’s up, buttercup?” I coo, bopping her tiny button nose and cupping her downy cheek. The sweet baby scent of her calms the raging hormones thundering through my veins…for about two seconds before I glance back up at Ridge and that deliciously rugged beard.

Up this close, I can see how the fine silver strands catch the sunlight filtering in through the window. His arms are absolutely mouthwatering, bunched and straining with sinewy muscle from supporting his daughter’s weight. If I lean in just a bit, I could inhale his rugged, earthy scent…

“Got a couple hours of ranch work to get through,” Ridge explains, jolting me from my inappropriate reverie. “I’ll come pick her up once I am done.”

He arches one brow quizzically, like he’s caught me doing something I shouldn’t.

“Uh, y-yeah!” I stammer, resisting the urge to rake my fingers through my hair - a nervous habit leftover from childhood. “Yeah, no problem at all. I’d love to watch Avery.” Forcing a bit more brightness into my tone, I wiggle my fingers at the little girl enticingly. “We’ll have all kinds of fun together, won’t we, sweetpea?”

Avery cheers, squirming happily.

The corners of Ridge’s sensuous mouth tug upwards in an amused half-smile that makes my knees perilously weak. With great reluctance, he transfers his daughter into my arms, our bodies brushing for the barest hint of a moment. But that fleeting point of contact is enough to make my nerve-endings burst into kaleidoscopic sparks. The man is scorching hot - like I’ve been struck by lightning.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he rumbles in that buttery smooth accent. “I owe you one.”

If only he knew just how many deliriously filthy thoughts I’ve entertained about him that I want when claiming that debt from him. But before I can say or do anything too mortifyingly embarrassing, he turns on his booted heel and heads back out the door, hips swaying in that bowlegged ranch hand stride. My eyes are utterly glued to the masterful play of muscle and denim across that supremely fuckable ass.

Somehow I manage to keep my composure until Ridge’s muscular figure retreats through the door, those mouthwateringly snug jeans hugging his lean hips to perfection. The moment he’s out of sight, I exhale a long, shuddering breath, my knees going watery-weak. How am I supposed to get any work done when my mind is utterly consumed with X-rated fantasies about the rugged ranch owner next door?

Avery squirms in my arms, oblivious to the torrent of molten lust roaring through my veins. “Sweep?” she asks hopefully, those big doe eyes blinking up at me.

“Actually, sweetpea, I’ve got some work to catch up on,” I murmur, hefting her higher onto my hip as I cross to the office nook off the main reception area. “But you can sleep right here with me while I finish up, okay?”

As if in agreement, she gives a contented little hum and nestles her honey-sweet head against my chest. My heart clenches with gentle longing. She’s just the most precious little thing - to have a daughter this darling someday would be an utter dream.

Once inside, I plop onto the worn leather sofa tucked in the corner, situating Avery comfortably on my lap. Her tiny rosebud mouth splits into an adorable yawn, those long sooty lashes fluttering sleepily. The poor thing must have had an early morning trailing after her dad on the ranch, and the steady rhythm of my breathing soon lulls her into slumber.

The vineyards’ web and social media presence desperately need some sprucing up - fresh photos of the newly blossoming grapes, updated touring info, maybe some Q&A highlight reels to pique interest. Maybe I can get Ethan to talk about his and mine Wine experiments for our socials, or do some live wine tastings. I make a mental note to talk to Ethan about our Social Media presence.

For a blissful stretch of maybe an hour, I immerse myself in crunching numbers for our upcoming summer event packages, blessedly distracted from thoughts of Avery’s outrageously sexy father. My laptop balanced on the armrest, I crunch figures in a spreadsheet, brow furrowed in concentration. Every so often, I glance down at Avery’s cherubic face, so peaceful and unburdened as she slumbers. She looks like a little angel with those plump cheeks and fluttery lashes fanned over her skin.

God, the idea of Ridge creating something so perfect and innocent with his ex-wife makes my heart clench behind my ribs. I can’t even imagine what he went through when that shrew abandoned him and their babies so callously. He may act all gruff and closed-off, but underneath that chiseled, damn exterior, but with the way he was acting around lily that morning or just how he acts around his kids shows he must be a soft and fluffy as a teddy bear.

The thought makes me ache for him in a way that sucker punches the air right out of my lungs. How could someone walk away from the this? From a man who’s not just ridiculously handsome in that brooding, ludicrously fuckable way, but who clearly has the biggest, kindest heart locked away beneath all those gruff and scowls? I feel a wild burst of protectiveness for Ridge.

It’s just not fair that someone so sweet and loving on the inside should get repeatedly burnt by life. Unbidden, my free hand drifts down to smooth over Avery’s baby-soft curls, tracing her angelic features with a featherlight touch. She’s so unquestioningly trusting and open, never cruelly shut off from the world, the way I suspect Ridge has built up walls around his heart. How could someone bear to break that trust, to deliver those kinds of scars at such a tender age?

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, sweetpea,” I whisper, cupping her plump cheek while a stray tear slides down my own. The injustice of it all ignites a flame of anger towards her mother - how could she betray her children and their father so selfishly?

My thumb gently brushes away the silvery teardrop trickling over her baby-soft skin. Hardly daring to move, to breathe too loudly, I sink into the buttery leather and let Avery’s innocent milky breaths lull me into a light doze. I can’t seem to summon the energy to go back to my spreadsheets and projections. A bone-deep weariness seeps through my veins, leaving me drained and a bit melancholy for reasons I can’t quite explain.

When next my lids flutter open, it’s to find Avery’s cornflower blue eyes peering up at me with sleepy curiosity. “Hey there, snugglebug,” I murmur, voice raspy from my unexpected nap. “I think we both needed that siesta.”

Stretching languorously, Avery beams up at me, all bright smiles and sparkly-eyed mirth, the heaviness weighing me down melting away like so much morning mist. “Hungee!” she announces imperiously, patting her little tummy.

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