Page 31 of Because of Me

My mouth turns dry and under my fingertips I feel my pulse spike in my temples. Swallowing, I pull my hands away from my face.

“You like them?” I didn’t mean for my voice to come out so deep and growly.

“Yeah,” Amira breathes out. We’re both leaning over the table now, inching closer together.

A rustling sounds from the couch. Ella unwraps the blanket she had around herself and snatches up the remote to turn the TV off. “I am so getting out of here,” she whines as she throws the remote back down.

Amira and I hold each other’s gaze until we hear Ella’s door slam shut. I almost feel bad for making Ella feel like she had to leave the room. Almost.

But something about it seems to have shocked some sense into Amira. Or the opposite of sense, because she drops her touch and sits back in her chair.

“What’s all this?” She grabs a random sheet of paper to change the subject, but I’m not quick enough to hide it from her. “A planning permit?”

Sifting through more of the paperwork, Amira furrows her brow as she puts together the puzzle pieces. I could stop her, but if anyone’s going to find out, it might as well be her. If anything, I want her to figure it out so I can be done with trying to hide it.

“Noah,” she questions curiously, “why would you need a planning permit for a hotel? What does that have to do with managing the events? And why is your name on the title?”

Leaning back, I drop my hands into my lap to pet Kitch. She purrs, nuzzling into my fingers. I should just say it, but Amira looks cute when she is concentrating. Her nose scrunches up and her lips purse, and I don’t want to ruin it. When I don’t respond, she looks up from the papers and stares at me.

“Why did you come down from Melbourne? Why do you have your grandmother’s cat? And why is your name on the title of the winery?”

“You can work it out, Cupcake.”

“Ugh.” She stands up, dropping her hands to the table to lean over it. “Who owns the winery, Noah?”

I hold her gaze, but my smirk gives me away.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Finally, I give in. “Yes, it’s me.”

“Why?”

“It was my grandmother’s, she left it, and her house and Kitch, to me when she died.”

Amira sits down slowly, easing herself back onto the chair. One hand clutches at the collar of her shirt. “Oh.”

“I never knew her, so don’t feel bad.”

“But why haven’t you told anyone?”

Reaching forward, I take the planning permit application from in front of her and gather all the other paperwork back into a neat stack. I close my laptop and tuck everything away in my work bag. The glasses case snaps shut.

“At first, I was going to sell it. I didn’t want to tell people it was my grandmother’s because I didn’t want anyone to try to convince me not to. But I fell in love. It feels nostalgic there for no reason at all and once I’d walked through the vineyards I couldn’t imagine anyone else running it.” I shake my head, holding back the way I want to laugh at myself when I add, “Then I was so certain I would fuck it all up I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to look like a failure.”

“But you’re not a failure. I mean, I don’t see your books but you have events every weekend and the hot air balloon rides, and the cellar door is always full of people when I bring Cassidy flowers.”

“I know. And now we are adding a hotel. It’s going really well. I just wasn’t sure how to suddenly tell everyone I’m the owner.”

Amira stands, walking around the table to bump her hip into my shoulder. “I can keep it a secret. But only if you stop staring at my boobs when I start to wear clothes that don’t look like they belong to a nun.”

I spread my fingers through Kitch’s fur, focusing on every tiny hair as it tickles my skin. Anything to not grab onto Amira’s waist.

“Deal,” I say. Even though I know not looking at her is impossible.

Amira gulps audibly, and I look up to find her eyes cast down into my lap. “I have one more question,” she whispers. Her voice is shaking, and she pinches her fingers together near my forearm.

Shooing Kitch to the floor, I twist in the chair. I use my knee to nudge Amira a step forward, then plant my feet either side of hers and grip her waist. My face is dangerously close to her chest and I fight the urge to bury myself between her breasts. “What?” I ask, hating the breathy growl to my tone.

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