Page 18 of The Vineyard Crush

“You really look like a wilting flower,” he rumbled, the hint of a sad smile playing about his beautifully carved mouth. “with your tearstained eyes and doleful pout, all trampled fragility and defeated grace.” The visual imagery, however poetic, still managed to sting even as his words somehow seemed to enfold rather than diminish me.

Inexplicably, I found myself holding my breath as he leaned in just a fraction closer, near enough for me to catch the clean, earthy tang of his skin and crisp cotton shirt. The unexpected intimacy was utterly disarming, robbing me of even the most basic self-protective instincts.

“But when you’re smiling?” Ridge murmured, each hushed syllable caressing the scant space between us with soft reverence. “You know what you remind me of then?”

My mouth felt too sandpaper-dry to formulate a response, so I simply gaped up at him, utterly transfixed. Whether by the magnetic pull of his hypnotic voice or our sudden propinquity, I couldn’t be certain - everything was a jumble of blurred sensation.

Sensing my speechlessness, Ridge indulged me with a slow curve of rueful mirth before finishing his thought. “Flowers of the first bloom. All dewy, petal-soft promise just beginning to unfurl.” The timbre of his tone had lowered to a hushed, raspy cadence, like the words themselves were objects of reverent beauty being handled with the utmost care.

At the apex of his descriptive flourish, he murmured one final, gracenote word that conjured an achingly vivid image all its own.

“Daffodils.”

I couldn’t stifle the tremulous inhale that escaped me then, the breath whispering out before I could rein it back in.

The ghost of seraphic wonderment flickering across Ridge’s face told me he’d registered my utterly visceral response to his surprisingly poetic turn. Not condescending or mocking, but genuinely appreciative of the seismic verbal impact he’d clearly orchestrated.

Nine

Ridge

With every breath I took, the intoxicating scent of fresh flowers and citrus enveloped me. Emma lay close beside me, her eyes puffy and bottom lip trembling, yet she remained breathtakingly beautiful. Gently, I brushed away a stray tear that had escaped down her cheek, my fingers lingering against her soft skin. For a fleeting moment, I found myself drawn to her plump lips, the selfish desire to claim them as my own nearly overwhelming me. But I pulled back, restraining myself from acting on those forbidden thoughts.

Turning my gaze back towards the vast expanse of the night sky, I waited as Emma mumbled a quiet “thanks.” Her voice, laced with a vulnerability that tugged at my heartstrings, carried a weight I couldn’t quite place. “She doesn’t like me better than her own dad, by the way,” she added, shuffling slightly to face the celestial canvas above us.

I took the opportunity to study her profile, drinking in the delicate curve of her nose, the gentle sweep of her lashes against her flushed cheeks. “Yes, she does,” I replied, the words escaping my lips before I could stop them. “I am boring, strict, and always working. My kids haven’t stopped talking about you, even Avery, who barely speaks.” A soft chuckle rumbled from deep within my chest at the thought of my littlest one, already enamored with Emma’s presence.

Emma turned her head, our eyes meeting in a charged gaze that seemed to rob me of breath. “You are not boring, and you are the only parent, Ridge. You have to be strict and working to keep them happy and healthy, and they see that,” she said, her voice carrying a conviction that left me stunned.

I felt the weight of her words settle upon me, a familiar ache spreading through my chest. “I just wish I had more time to make them happy,” I confessed, the words tumbling from my lips before I could rein them in. “Take them to the lake to play or just do something fun, but I’m just stretched too thin.” It was a truth I had never voiced aloud before, but in Emma’s presence, I found myself disarmed, my carefully guarded walls crumbling with each passing moment.

Emma turned her body towards me, her eyes shining with an understanding that both comforted and unnerved me. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as her pinky finger brushed against mine, the featherlight touch sending a jolt of electricity through my veins. I allowed our fingers to remain connected, the barest of touches, yet in that moment, I felt a sense of peace and contentment that had long eluded me.

The world seemed to fade away, the constant hum of responsibilities and worries that usually plagued my every waking moment fading into the background. All that existed was the warmth of Emma’s skin against mine, the steady rise and fall of her chest, and the mesmerizing depths of her eyes that threatened to swallow me whole.

I knew, in that moment, that I was treading dangerous waters. The pull I felt towards this woman, this enigmatic creature who had so effortlessly woven her way into the fabric of my life, was something I couldn’t quite comprehend. But as I gazed into her eyes, watching the infinite cosmos reflected in their depths, I found myself powerless to resist her gravitational pull.

“You’re doing the best you can, Ridge,” Emma whispered, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. “Your kids see that, and they love you for it. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Her words washed over me like a soothing balm, easing the constant ache of self-doubt and guilt that had become as familiar as the air I breathed. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to believe her, to let her words seep into the cracks of my weary soul and mend the wounds that had festered for far too long.

But even as I basked in the warmth of her presence, a niggling voice in the back of my mind whispered words of warning. This was dangerous territory, a path that could lead me down a road I might never be able to return from. Emma was a fleeting moment in time, a shooting star streaking across the sky, bright and brilliant but destined to fade just as quickly as she had appeared.

And yet, I found myself powerless to resist her pull, like a moth drawn to the flame.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. “I needed to hear that.”

Emma’s smile widened, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made my heart flutter. “Anytime,” she replied, giving my pinky a gentle squeeze before withdrawing her touch.

A pang of loss shot through me at the absence of her warmth, but I swallowed it down, determined not to let my turbulent emotions show. Instead, I turned my gaze back towards the heavens, letting the vast expanse of the night sky ground me once more.

We lay there in comfortable silence, the sounds of the night enveloping us like a gentle embrace. The chirping of crickets, the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, the distant call of an owl – it all blended together into a soothing symphony that lulled my frayed nerves.

As the minutes ticked by, I found myself acutely aware of Emma’s presence beside me, the rise and fall of her chest, the soft puffs of her breath. It was as if every fiber of my being had become attuned to her, like a finely calibrated instrument vibrating in harmony with her very essence.

Within moments, I could tell Emma had drifted off to sleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. Instead of following my usual routine of cleaning the house, washing the dinner dishes and tending to the left over ranch work, I found myself indulging in the rare opportunity to simply watch her.

A part of me recognized the inherent creepiness of my actions, but I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away from her slumbering form. The soft moonlight danced across her tanned skin, casting an ethereal glow that left me utterly captivated.

---