Page 6 of Love You Always

Just beyond Ella’s form in the doorway lies the most beautiful view in all of Napa Valley, acres of cabernet grapevines catching the yellow sun and hills just beyond the miles of rolling land thatmake up our property. I gaze out there every day and remind myself why I’m working to the bone to save our family business.

But that view—all of it—simply falls away, pale as an ugly fog behind the woman standing there.

Light kisses the bare skin of her arms, hanging gracefully by her sides like a ballet dancer. She tilts her head to the side as her eyes squint and adjust to the dim light indoors. She looks softer and more vulnerable than I expect. Less…sure of herself? Well, she is an actress after all. She owns the goddamn room, even one with a lone man in it.

It’s almost like someone ran ahead and adjusted the lighting just so. Arranged the breeze to hit her so that her tangle of wild hair would fly around the soft features of her face, making me strain harder to stare at her pale pink lips.

And I am staring, no doubt about that.

Sixteen inches of paper, I remind myself. I don’t have time for nonsense like pitter-pattering hearts. Or celebrities who show up at the wrong time.

I expect to see a bevy of handlers rush through the double doors. Someone carrying her purse or holding her jacket on a hanger so it doesn’t wrinkle. Someone asking for an outlet to plug in her blow-dryer or charge her phone. That was my experience with actresses during my stint in Los Angeles.

But she’s alone, her pale pink skirt swishing around her legs and making a soft rustle that my ears strain to take in. When the doors finally close behind her, Ella stops a few feet away, regarding me from head to toe before looking down, almost like she’s embarrassed.

Ella takes a step closer, and I feel my skin flame hotter. I ignore the sudden urge to wipe a hand over the back of my neck, which feels sweaty. My pulse quickens as she takes the final step closer and extends her hand. I don’t want to shake it. I don’t want contact with her skin. A warning signal from my brain tells me that if I touch her, life will never be the same.

“Hi, I’m Ella.”

I ignore my brain’s warning, enveloping her small hand in mine. I expect a soft, breakable grip, but she gives my hand a firm shake like we’re closing a business deal. I already know that a business deal is the last thing I want from her, and I swallow hard.

“Archer.” My voice is a choked rumble, and I try to repair it by barking out a few more words. “You okay? I saw you fall.”

Her cheeks flush like twin red apples. She grimaces and looks down. “Oh, um, yeah. It looked worse than it was.”

I notice a few dots of blood seeping through the sheer fabric of her skirt and realize her knee is grazed. “Come. Sit here.” I point to one of the brown leather armchairs.

“What? Why?”

“Just…please. Can’t have you bleeding all over the vineyards,” I grumble, put out about the chore of dealing with her until my sister arrives.

I walk to the staff kitchen behind the tasting room and grab a first aid kit with some antibacterial spray and a bandage. Kneeling in front of her, I tip my head up to indicate she should move the fabric of her skirt. When she does, I swallow hard at the sight of her pale skin, all smooth and perfect except for a bleeding gash on the knee.

I don’t want to touch her—can’t afford to touch her, given how my heart is thudding in my chest—so I drop the first aid stuff in her lap. “I’m sure you can handle putting on a Band-Aid.”

Her brow furrows, but she takes the supplies and quickly plasters on the bandage before standing back up. “Thank you.” She looks down at her skirt and dusts it off, but what I’m staring at is the wild disobedient curls, the heart-shaped mouth, the curves that she’s trying to hide under an oversized peach sweater. I don’t know how to look away, even though I know she’s wearing another man’s engagement ring. I don’t know why she has me so unnerved, and it bugs me.

She clears her throat, but her voice comes out raspy. “I…um, was hoping to find Beatrix Corbett. It’s the wrong day, but I was in the area, so…”

“So, you don’t have an appointment today? Yeah, that’s not gonna work. My sister is probably booked all day, so I’d just come back at the right time. Or call her on the phone.” I sound irritable, which is better than dick-whipped.

“Oh. Well, shoot.” She looks at the floor again. “Yeah, I guess I should have expected that. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming today. I guess…honestly, I wasn’t even in the area. I drove up from San Francisco just because I needed some time in the car, you know?”

She trains her eyes on me, and I feel myself flinch. Something in her gaze unnerves me. It’s not just the pure deep blue of her eyes, though they conjure impossibly calm waters. There’s a playful challenge, daring me to look at her longer. Like some vital question about the universe might be revealed if I do.

And despite myself, I want the answer to that question.

“Yeah. We all need a road trip now and then.”

Her gaze softens and I earn the barest hint of a smile. “True.”

“Anyhow, sorry I can’t help you.” I turn to go back to my office, but her hand on my shoulder makes me flinch once more. Only this time, it’s because her palm leaves a shock of goosebumps in its wake. Turning, I see determination in her eyes.

“But you do work here,” she affirms.

“Yes, but I have nothing to do with weddings.”

She doesn’t budge.

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