Page 104 of Gone With the Wine

She looks up. “Is this about what you said before? About how you felt like I didn’t have time for you?”

My insides all tighten up. Is it? Am I letting old hurts impact my relationship with Rosa now? “Maybe?”

“I know you’re a private person. I know you have other friends. But we’re sisters.”

I nod slowly. “It’s not just that I’m private. It’s…” Oh God. I swallow, my throat constricted. “It’s easier to not get too close to people. Then it doesn’t hurt as much when they leave, or when they let me down.”

She nods, her face solemn. “I understand that. I’m just sad that you feel that way about me.”

“I’m sorry.” I blink at the sting in the corners of my eyes. “You’re right. Our childhood was a long time ago. We’re adults now. I shouldn’t be living in the past like that. And you’ve never really let me down. Other than that time you wouldn’t let me go to the movies with you and Sasha.”

“What?” Her mouth sags open.

“I’m kidding.”

“Are you, though?” she asks slowly.

My heart twists. I look away and suck my lower lip between my teeth. “I mean, it hurt at the time. I was just a kid, though.” A lump of air catches in my chest.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. But…I’ve spent literally half my life wondering what I could have done to make Mama leave. So I was probably oversensitive about stuff like that.”

“Oh, Bee.” Her voice is strangled.

“I’m over it,” I assure her, lifting my chin.

There’s a knock at the back door, startling us. Jansen. I go to let him in.

He looks gorgeous as always, his beard stubble trimmed, hair combed back off his face. He’s wearing beige chinos, a navy blue shirt fitted to his muscled body with the sleeves rolled back on his strong forearms, and…my gaze drops to his feet…expensive-looking loafers. I’m a little shaky from the conversation I just had, and he looks so strong, so safe…so precious.

I go very still as I’m flooded with feelings of desire and affection and…I close my eyes on a rush of fierce, complex emotions. Love. I’m in love with him.

I love to be with Jansen. I love being in bed with him…having our hot little fling…but I like just being with him. Working. Having a picnic. Trying to get Moose to sit. Just hanging out. I like talking to him. Making him laugh. Also rubbing my hands all over him. He is becoming one of my favorite people.

Oh shit.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his brow muscles bunching low.

I blink. I want to throw myself into his arms and feel him wrap me up in his strength and comfort. But I restrain myself and dig up a stiff smile. “Nothing!”

His frown eases and his eyes grow hot as he takes in the low-cut neckline and the high-cut slit of my dress. “Wow. You look gorgeous.”

My heart cartwheels behind my ribs. “Thank you. You look gorgeous, too.”

“Hey, Jansen,” Rosa calls from the kitchen.

He pokes his head around the door. “Hi, Rosa. Would you like to join us?”

She screws up her face. “I don’t have a ticket. Damn them.”

“You could crash the party with us.” He grins.

“Tempting,” she says. “You go and give them hell.”

Jansen and I step back outside where the low sun casts long shadows across the yard and road. Jansen drives us to Belmonte in his truck. I try to act normal. Like I haven’t just snorted several lines of coke. Or zip lined through the redwoods near Sonoma. Like my heart isn’t racing like a squirrel on crack.

“This dinner is a Belmonte tradition,” I babble mindlessly. “Uncle Geno will have invited friends and prominent members of the community like the mayor and council, and owners of the bigger businesses in not only Oak Creek Canyon, but Napa and St. Helena.”

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