Page 8 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“Gio!” Franc exclaimed. “Don’t say hell.”

“But you just said it.”

“I’m allowed.”

“That’s not fair,” he pouted.

“Life isn’t fair, kid,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.

“Don’t tell him that,” Chardonnay snapped.

“So you want me to lie to him so when he gets older, he’s not prepared for a world that isn’t there to hold his hand?”

“You’ve always been so cynical.”

“Cynical and realistic are different, but considering you have no idea what it is to struggle, I can see how you can’t decipher between the two.”

Her nose twitched, a sure sign she was about to erupt. Throwing in her face she came from a stable life of money and privilege always got under her skin. It made her feel less than like she didn’t work her ass off to get to where she was in the family business. The thing was… I knew damn well she did. She was one of the hardest working people I knew.

“Come on, bud,” I said to Gio. “Let’s go get you a napkin.” I ignored Chardonnay and guided him toward the table, where Mrs. Grasso wiped Gio’s face and Lainey handed me a piece of cake.

I took a bite of cake and watched as Chardonnay tried to fix the anger on her face. She was struggling, and I loved every second of it. Jack sat at her feet. I wanted to call the traitor to me, but I didn’t want her to think my dog liked her better.

She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, plastered a smile—if you could call it that—on her face, and joined the rest of us, purposely standing on the opposite side from me. She forked a piece of cake and brought it to her lips. Her tongue darted out, swiping along the edge.

My muscles tightened at the sight, and I turned away from her, cursing my dick for not being able to resist her. It was a shallow prick who only cared about how fucking beautiful she was and could not care less that she’d been a rigid bitch to us for years.

Jack pressed against my leg.Nowhe wanted my attention. I bent down and scratched behind his ears. Traitor or not, I’d always give him scratches.

Side conversations started up—a cacophony of sound that made it hard to decipher the individual words. I glanced at my watch, and Franc sidled up beside me.

“It’s been two hours. You can bail.” There was a reason he was my best friend. He knew me better than anyone. “I appreciate you coming. Slip through the side gate. I’ll tell everyone you said bye.”

“Thanks, man. See you tomorrow.”

Franc patted my shoulder, and I snapped my finger toward Jack. He rose beside me, and we left together.

Ten minutes later, I pulled into my driveway and threw my truck into park. I opened the door, and Jack jumped down with a bark as if he had to let the surrounding woods know he was home. He sniffed the perimeter as I made my way to the front door.

My mind drifted to my conversation with Nero about my old man. Disgusted annoyance swelled in me for even giving a damn. Refusing to let that man occupy my night, I shifted my thoughts to another annoyance…

Chardonnay and her upturned nose and too pouty lips. The dark brown eyes that could bring any man to his damn knees. And that confidence bordering on arrogance fit her like the perfect dress, highlighting every angle of her attitude.

My dick hardened, pressing uncomfortably against the restrictive fabric of my worn carpenter pants.

Fuck. So much for a relaxing night. If I didn’t handle this, I’d never be able to sit in my favorite chair and pick up the book I started last night. Chardonnay and her too perfect body and her too perfect everything would haunt me, begging me to stroke myself while imagining her pouty lips taking me to the hilt.

She was my enemy, but she was also my weakness—something I’d managed to keep to myself all these years.

Jack finished securing the perimeter and ran into the house, plopping his fluffy ass on his bed and munching on his favorite bone.

With a sigh, I shut the door and made my way for the shower, where I would envision my enemy and succumb to my weakness.

It had been two days since the going away party and one since Mom and Dad had taken off for Italy. I’d only talked to Mom three times since they arrived, so I called again just to make sure they were okay. I placed my e-reader on the table after reading a couple of chapters of the current vampire sex novel I was indulging in—a guilty pleasure that was also a secret I guarded with my life. God forbid one of my brothers discovered what types of books I liked. I’d never hear the damn end of it.

I grabbed my cell and called Mom. The phone rang three times before she answered, panting through her hello.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked. “You sound winded.”

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