Page 13 of Sweet Escape

I hop off the counter, then turn my back to him, giving myself a moment to collect my thoughts. I reach into the sink and pull out the slightly melty carton of ice cream.

“That was ... less than ideal,” Memphis says, and I can hear the mixture of amusement and embarrassment in his tone.

Licking my lips, I chuckle awkwardly. “Yeah. Can’t remember the last time I was walked in on by someone’s dad,” I reply, trying to push back my own mortification. “Maybe that’s the universe saying this isn’t a good idea.”

Memphis says nothing as I put the lid back on the ice cream and then slip the container into the freezer, and when I turn to look at him, I find him watching me with an easy expression.

“At least tonight,” I add, drinking him in where he stands, his body now on display to me in the brightness. “I mean, I don’t know what we were thinking ...”

“We weren’t,” he says, a contrite look on his face. “But thankfully, nothing happened.”

His voice sounds hollow, though, no true conviction behind what he’s said.

And I get it.

Because I’mnotthankful nothing happened, even though I probably should be.

Sighing, I grab the spoon off the counter and place it in the sink.

“I’m gonna ...” I jerk a thumb in the direction of the hallway. “Head back to bed. I guess I’ll see you around?”

He nods.

“Hopefully things won’t be weird for the rest of my trip.”

His entire body seems to freeze in place. Except for his nostrils. They flare, which is plenty of indication that he’s displeased about something.

“I thought you were just staying one night.”

“I am. Here. But I’ll be in town for two weeks.”

His chin juts up and he shakes his head, barely.

“How inconvenient.”

His words fall from him in a grumble, and my lips part in shock. But before I can say anything else, he’s left the room.

I blink a few times, my eyes staring at the empty space he left behind for far longer than is warranted.

What the hell was that about?

I slap off the kitchen light and then return outside. I plant my butt on the cold tile of the porch, with my feet on the steps. Staring into the moonlight, I try to make sense of what happened. To reconcile Memphis’s quick shift from charming tomcat to irritable grouch.

The longer I sit in the cool, damp night air, though, the more exhausted I feel. The last thing I want to do is try to decipher what is going on in that brain of his when I have my own bullshit to figure out.

And as much as I wish having blistering chemistry and a little bit of fun was enough to take my mind off the drama I left behind in LA, clearly, it’s not.

Chapter Three

Memphis

The shower soothes my aching muscles as the hot water hits my back. It drips down over my body, providing some much-needed relief.

I haven’t worked out that intensely in quite some time, keeping most of my energy and attention on the goings-on of the vineyard and all the moving parts that I have to tend to. I actually had to dust off the weight set that sits in the makeshift gym in the back corner of the garage, which makes me think it’s been at least a few months.

This morning, for the first time in who knows how long, I flew out of bed at six o’clock with a scrambled mind and enough energy to power the new generator we just installed on the west side of the property. I’m not a gym bro by any means, but keeping fit used to be a regular part of my routine. As exhausted as I am right now, it also feels amazing to get back to something I used to love so much.

The mental strength required to push myself. The physical fatigue in my muscles. The ability to take out my emotional stress.

---