Page 41 of Sweet Escape

“Speaking of magic and creativity,” she says, tucking her hands behind her and then bumping me with her shoulder. “I want to talk to you about something very important.”

I purse my lips in a reluctant smile. “Vivian.”

“Memphis.”

“I don’t have time for whatever is causing that mischief on your face.”

She beams at me. “I certainly have no idea what you’re talking about. I am the least mischievous person I know.”

“I find that to be unlikely.”

“Besides, you look like you have time right now.” Then she turns, waving her hands around us. “In fact, it seems to me like you literally have nothing but time.”

“There are other guests on this tour.”

“Who have probably snuck off to go make out in a corner. Have you seen the two of them? Talk about handsy.”

I cross my arms and pin her with a look.

Vivian likes to play, something I’m not accustomed to and something that definitely flips a switch I didn’t know I had. It’s not that she’s funny, exactly. Except she is.

Or maybe it’s just that she’s fun.

That she doesn’t take anything too seriously.

As much as I hate to admit it, almost everything in my life has been far too serious for far too long.

Maybe that’s what draws me to her so much.

The fact that I smile around her more than I’ve smiled about anything in ... god, in years, maybe.

“So what do you think? Five minutes? Maybe ten? And if you don’t like what I have to say, I promise I won’t bug you again.” She lifts her hands and gives me the rock symbol, her pinkie and pointer finger raised up. “Scout’s honor.”

Letting out a long sigh, I decide to give in.

It’s only five or ten minutes, like she said.

And realistically, I’ll probably spend at least that much time thinking about what it is she would have said to me had I given her the few minutes she’s asking for.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

“Ten.”

“Five.”

“Nine.”

I pin her with a look, and she pins me right back.

“Eight.”

She beams at me, then sticks her hand out. “Deal.”

I don’t imagine the little thrill that runs through me when I take her hand in mine. I release her just the same to peer down a few aisles. I finally find Max and Jolie—I want to laugh—making out in a corner.

Returning to where I’d previously been standing, I call out to the room, my voice echoing against the concrete walls.

“All right, I think we’re going to move on to the tasting room.”

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