Page 40 of Gifts

But the second I hear new voices ring through the house, my nerves ignite like a tiny sparkler. Saylor comes skipping in first, followed by Knox and a very unhappy Emma with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

Emma gives me a forced smile. “Hey, Miz Lockhart.”

I don’t have a chance to respond, because Saylor announces, “I’m gonna show her my room, then Knox’s room, then the playroom, then we’re gonna play with the goats.”

I look down at my bossy daughter. “Baby, you need to let Emma do what she wants to do. She might have homework or want time to herself.”

“It’s okay,” Emma adds.

“See?” Saylor gives me her big eyes telling me she’s right. She thinks she’s always right.

“You just don’t want to read,” Knox points out, sticking it to his sister, and he’s right.

I sigh and wonder if my daughter will be the one to scare off Asa and his kids. “Fine, but after dinner you need to leave her alone if she has to study.”

Emma drops her bag in the family room and follows my kids up the stairs as I hear the door to the garage. And the sparkler sizzling in my belly explodes into a burst of fireworks worthy of Independence Day from having Asa Hollingsworth in my space.

His eyes are on me and their intensity says more than thanks for the dinner invite. I’m not familiar with his eye-speak yet, but I think they’re saying he wants to press me up against things and teach me about encrypted apps. I should welcome him, ask what’s in the enormous box he’s carrying, or give him the pick of all Saylor’s goats to ensure he comes back every day, but I don’t have the chance to do any of this.

He plops the box down on my island and announces, “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you a case.”

I feel my face crinkle in confusion at the same time I note he’s wearing another pair of old jeans with a t-shirt sporting the logo from the last winter Olympics. He looks so comfortable in his clothes, I could curl into him and take a nap. “A case of what?”

He doesn’t answer, but he proves I was right by moving around the island, and his intent is obvious. I see him look around quickly as he takes my hand and the next thing I know, he’s pulling me into the pantry, shutting us inside. The motion light flickers on the moment his lips touch mine. Just like last night, his tongue delves into my mouth and he tastes of mint and a man capable of changing tires. Fresh excitement stirs inside me, causing me to press into him. His soft beard scratches my face reminding me I’m alive. I’m in a flux of emotions that are nothing short of exhilaration laced with anxiety.

All this, coupled with his big, warm hand sneaking up into the back of my shirt creating tingles on my bare skin, is too much. When he pulls his lips from mine, I’m left wanting more. How can his kiss be too much and not enough at the same time?

He looks over my head and frowns. “Where are we?”

My hands flex on his chest, but I make no move to leave his arms. “What do you mean?”

“Do you have two kitchens?” He looks around but doesn’t let go. His fingers trail up and down my back, teasing my bra strap, making me wonder what he’s going to do next.

I can barely focus on our conversation as I wonder if he’s going to pop my bra. “It’s just the pantry.”

He looks down at me. “Where’s the food?”

I give my head a little shake because I don’t understand why he’s so confused. “In the cabinets. Where else would it be?”

“Keelie.” He gives me a squeeze. “I’m not sure what I expected since the outside of your house is torn to shit and you have a million goats, but you have a microwave, coffee maker, a,” he pauses and cranes his neck to the side before he smirks, “wine refrigerator that’s stocked full of juice boxes, and all kinds of other fancy shit. This looks like another kitchen with as many cabinets as you have in here. You wanna see a pantry, come look at mine. It’s full of cereal, power bars, and protein powder.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say other than he needs to branch out at the grocery store. “The main floor was gutted before we moved in. It was done before the budget went to hell.”

He nods like he gets it, and since I’m not at all anxious to delve into my shitty past, I change the subject.

“What did you bring me a case of?”

His arms convulse around me. “Wine.”

I push him away and exclaim, “Why would you bring me a case of wine?”

His shoulder hitches. “Because I didn’t know what you liked. And since fish can swim, I figured you really like wine. I was right since you have a wine refrigerator.” He leans in to kiss me fast and reaches around to his back pocket and shoves a stack of papers in my hand. “Here, I also got you a barrel, but you can’t have it for three years. You can visit it, though. Addy said they’ll burn your name into it.”

“A barrel? And who’s Addy?” I ask, opening the papers that are haphazardly folded. Asa leaves me standing in my pantry and I hear the clinks of bottles hitting marble.

“My buddy’s wife,” he calls from the kitchen. “She owns Whitetail.”

I skim the document outlining my member benefits for the Elite Barrel Membership program at Whitetail Farms Winery. From the looks of it, I get two cases of wine a year for the next three years, unlimited complimentary wine tastings, annual passes to the Harvest Celebration, Grape Stomping, Spring Blooms Celebration, and the list goes on, but I stop reading because Asa comes back in the pantry holding three bottles in each hand.

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