Page 11 of The Vineyard Crush

At some point, Avery managed to wiggle her way into the fray, taking up a position behind Emma and lobbing grapes at me with surprisingly good aim for a two-year-old. Each time one of her little missiles managed to hit its mark, she would erupt into a fit of giggles, her whole face scrunched up with delight.

“That’s my girl!” I crowed, ruffling her hair proudly before returning fire at Ethan. “Avenge your old man, baby girl!”

Despite my earlier frustration, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as the battle raged on. There was just something so…freeing about letting go like this, about embracing the chaos and just allowing myself to be in the moment. All my worries and stresses seemed to melt away, until there was nothing but the thrill of the fight and the joy of Avery’s bright, uninhibited laughter.

At least, that’s what I told myself in an effort to ignore the very different kind of thrill that sparked through me every time my gaze landed on Emma’s lithe, luscious form. The way her dress clung to her curves, outlining every soft swell and dip in mouthwatering detail…it was enough to make a man’s thoughts turn downright sinful.

More than once, I found myself shamelessly ogling the way her chest heaved with each breathless peal of laughter.

Finally, when Avery’s giggles subsided, she tugged on Emma’s sleeve and asked in that sweet, pleading tone only a child can muster, “pick me up, plwease?”

“You feeling tired, buttercup?” Emma cooed, those big doe eyes of hers shining with pure adoration.

I felt a tightness in my chest watching my little girl nuzzle into the crook of Emma’s neck, small fingers playing idly with the damp tendrils of Emma’s hair. A pang of guilt lanced through me. If Melissa hadn’t been so selfish, so eager to chase the illusion of a better life with her hotshot lawyer boy toy, I hope Avery wouldn’t be so starved for that bond, I hope I could be enough.

Shaking off the bitter memories, I cleared my throat. “I’ll take her home and we’ll freshen up, then see you for dinner.” I tried for a casual smile, but couldn’t help drinking in every detail of Emma in that clinging, ruined sundress.

There was an effortless beauty about her in this moment—mussed hair, flushed cheeks, and all. Gone was the shy, awkward girl from yesterday, replaced by this vibrant, uninhibited creature radiating pure joy. She was utterly captivating.

And damned if I didn’t find the whole raucous, messy scenario insanely arousing despite my initial irritation. Maybe it was the grins and squeals of delight from my typically reserved daughter. Or maybe it was the equally carefree smile Emma wore so dazzlingly.

I’m a stickler for order, for rules and discipline. So this unapologetic chaos shouldn’t appeal to me at all. And yet… there was something undeniably alluring about cutting loose like this, surrendering to unbridled fun and whimsy.

Responsibilities and self-imposed emotional barriers had me wound up tighter than a coiled spring most days. But Emma, with her infectious spirit and easygoing grace, had a way of throwing me deliciously off-kilter. Of reminding me that it was okay to embrace the unscripted messiness of life every once in a while.

As I took Avery from Emma’s arms, our fingers brushed ever so briefly in the transfer. A shiver rippled through me at the whisper of contact. Avery was all I could focus on in that moment to avoid turning beet red from the swirling haunt of desire I fought to ignore.

“We’ll see you soon,” Emma murmured, giving my daughter’s cheek an affectionate stroke.

I bobbed my head wordlessly, turning on my heel to make a hasty retreat before the sight of Emma covered in that viscous liquid proved too much temptation. The damp clinging fabric left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and my overactive mind was already storming with X-rated thoughts of using my tongue to thoroughly clean every luscious inch of her body.

Get a grip, you filthy bastard, I chastised myself as we neared the house. She’s barely out of her teens while you’re a broken down, world-weary dad closing in on forty. The girl deserves better than your twisted cravings.

But no matter how I tried to douse the raging lust burning through my veins, images of Emma’s ample breasts straining against that soaked dress material wouldn’t stop replaying in my head. Christ, I was already half-hard at the thought of suckling those ripe, perky peaks while she writhed and whimpered beneath me.

This morning’s cold shower was about to get the night’s encore performance, that’s for damn sure. I needed to drown these sinful urges in an icy deluge before they consumed me completely. Emma was the epitome of elegant, refined beauty—a porcelain angel utterly undeserving of the depraved cravings roiling within the depths of my calloused soul.

Get it together, you pathetic bastard. She probably writes you off as that crotchety rancher prick next door as it is. Don’t make things even more uncomfortable for her by openly gawking like a damned tongue-tied creep.

I had to get a handle on these turbulent desires, these intrusive fantasies of bending Emma over the nearest surface to make her mine. Because there’s no way in hell someone as radiant and pure as her would ever entertain the sinful whims of a broken, unworthy soul like myself.

Deep, steadying breaths slowly leaked the furious pounding from my skull. One agonizing inhalation after another until the visions began to recede, peeling away in smoky tendrils to reveal the fractured man beneath—the one too haunted and damaged to submit to such earthly temptations.

The ragged sigh that escaped me then sounded like the dying gasp of something primal and hopeless.

With a bone-deep lethargy, I pushed away from the door and headed toward the back stairs, boots scuffing against the polished hardwood in a rhythm as weary as my soul. After bathing Avery and strapping her to the portable swing in my bedroom, I went to shower myself. I placed the baby monitor on the sink and before stepping through the partition into my shower, slowly peeling off the sticky layers of my clothes, I let my mind blank out.

I made quick work of rinsing myself clean. Now, I just have to get through dinner with her and her family.

Six

Emma

When Ridge strode in, brow furrowed and a rumbling growl escaping those lusciously full lips, I braced myself for an outright scolding. The frustration blazing in his eyes told me the scene we’d created—me and Avery caked in grape residue amidst an utterly trashed storage room—had set his temper flaring.

But then the darnedest thing happened. One look at his little girl’s bright, uninhibited smile as she revelled in our messy shenanigans, and Ridge’s stern façade crumbled. A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of his mouth before escalating into deep, gravelly laughter that enveloped me like a warm embrace.

Any harsh words died on his tongue as he waded straight into the sticky puddle with us, fully clothed. The sight of his t-shirt plastered to that powerful torso, outlining the rugged contours of muscle and sinew, had my mouth going dry. Every flex and stretch of his frame caused the soaked fabric to cling and accentuate those mouthwatering curves in a way that sparked molten yearning low in my core.

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