Page 23 of Twin Babies For The Grump

Is it the complete opposite of a full restart? Sure, technically. But I’m also in exactly the sort of headspace not to care.

“Do you need something?” I ask.

Tess says, “You know, Jed has been with the company for almost ten years.”

“Not my problem.” I grab the spare helmet off the back of the motorcycle and toss it at her.

Tess fumbles but catches it. She pulls the helmet against her chest. “What’s this for?”

“If you want to talk shop, you can put that on and come with me,” I say. “Because I have places to go.”

I’m not expecting her to come with me. I figure it’s my own line drawn, right? Tess clearly isn’t the kind of girl that takes spins out on motorcycles, so I won’t have to try and figure out how far I’m going to go.

But she looks at me with those sharp green eyes and meets my bluff head-on. “Alright, fine. How long do you think we’ll be gone?”

She uses one hand to gather up her hair, and the other to pull the helmet on. She looks good like that, even if it doesn’t totally match the pale-yellow button-up blouse that she’s wearing.

“Don’t know yet,” I say and get on the motorcycle. “Come on.”

Tess is a little awkward in how she swings onto the back of the bike, but she wraps her arms around my middle and settles herself.

“It’s easy,” I tell her. “You just need to lean when I lean.”

“Sure,” she says. The engine revs to life, covering her voice for the moment. And then we’re going, taking the back road out of the winery, and onto one of the long country roads behind it. This part of Napa Valley has always been gorgeous. I could seriously spend my whole day out here, especially with the wind whipping around me.

Even at twilight, the hills curl around us, flashes of green that are broken up only by the stretches of vineyards that are so prominent in this part of the world. I’ll be honest, my thoughts aren’t actually hooked up to the scenery. Gorgeous as it is, it doesn’t hold a candle to the feeling of Tess leaning up against my back.

Her breasts feel soft when they press on me. I can’t stop thinking about what she looked like held against the window. The way that her copper-stained skin had gone red beneath my every touch. The press of my tongue to her skin. How wet she had been.

God damn, this has backfired on me big time, hasn’t it?

Desperate for a distraction, I catch sight of the lovely handmade sign for Rostam Winery. I take a detour, driving up the long, winding path to the main house. As a sign of good luck, my friend, Beau, is already out front with his two dogs.

The chocolate labs, Bear and Bubbles, start howling when they see us.

I cut the engine.

“I didn’t think that you were actually going anywhere. I figured that you were just… You know, stepping out for a bit,” Tess admits.

“I told you that I had places to be,” I say, even though I honestly hadn’t been thinking about Beau when I left.

“Holy shit,” says Beau, holding out his arms. He’s a tall, well-built man with slicked-back black hair and a heavy Italian accent. “Is that— It is! Owen! I have not seen you here in years!”

As soon as he’s close enough, he pulls me in for a hug and a kiss on either cheek. Then he turns to Tess, clasping a hand to her shoulders and air-miming kisses against her cheeks.

“And who is this?” Beau asks, only backing up when he needs to grab Bear’s collar to tug him back down onto all fours. “Sit, Bear. Sit.”

Bear sits. But it’s clearly taking all of the dog’s focus not to start jumping again.

Bubbles is only behaving marginally better, walking in circles around us, her tail wagging up a storm.

“This is Tess Green,” I say, gesturing at her. “She worked closely with my father.”

A look of grief crosses his face. “I heard about that. I am truly sorry, my friend.” And then, before the mood can sink to something that’s too serious, he turns and gestures to the front veranda. “Come, have a drink with me. It has been a long time.”

We follow him up the walk, onto the veranda.

“Where are your folks?” I ask.

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