Page 11 of Love Among Vines

She put a hand on the top of a bottle at the register. “Something about your wine cracked me open again. The profile, the bouquet, the incredible and barely detectable blend of fruit and earthiness. It was a small tingle, and it didn’t amount to much, but it was there. I can’t thank you enough foryourart. I don’t know if it’s going to be the answer to my problems, but for the first time in two years, I have a tiny bit of hope.”

Someone sniffed loudly behind her. Elaine leaned on a broom, tears in her eyes.

“That man did not deserve you.”

Jade smiled.

“Uh—thank you,” Rett said.

Heat crept into her cheeks again. She had just spouted a veritable fountain of crazy all over this poor man.

“I’m really sorry for word vomiting all over you, and I’m sorry for what happened at our tasting yesterday. I just wanted to say, from one artist to another, your creation is transcendental. Thank you for giving me hope.”

Before he could say anything, she turned on her heel and left.

CHAPTER FIVE

RETT

Rett frozeat the counter as the door swung shut. What the hell had just happened? The leggy brunette from yesterday’s trouble group had waltzed in with the most beautiful dog he had ever seen, shared a sob story that could have been a plot line in one of his mother’s soap operas, and called his wine transcendental.

Elaine stared at him with her eyebrows raised.

“I’ll be right back.” Before he could consciously decide what he was doing, he had pushed open the door and stepped into the humid midmorning air.

The woman was fast. She was halfway to the parking lot already, bottles clinking together in her backpack.

He broke into a light jog. “Jade, was it?”

She jumped and whirled around. Her brown hair was smoothed back into a ponytail, and her blue eyes were the same hue as a sapphire. Her legs seemed to stretch for days.

“Uh, yeah,” she said.

Had she noticed his eyes dipping? Shit, what was he doing out here?

“How long will you be in town?” he asked.

It would be insane for him to ask a complete stranger to be his date to the anniversary party. It would be even dumber for him to ask her to be his fake girlfriend. And yet, something told him he would never forgive himself if he didn’t.

“Just until Sunday morning. You know, after the wedding that I was incapable of shutting up about.”

His heart fell, and he shifted his gaze to the lake. He should have known. Bachelorette parties tended to blow into town as quickly as a typhoon and leave a flood of Solo cups and plastic tiaras in their wake.

“Did you run out here to convince me to join your wine club?” she asked after a beat.

A laugh burst forth from deep inside him. Cute and funny. What idiot had dumped her?

“No. Although it is a great deal—four bottles a month for the price of three, first dibs on tickets to our events.”

She cleared her throat. “I probably should have mentioned that in addition to being a sad-sack ex and a failure in my career, I’m also incredibly broke.”

He looked into her eyes. Her tone was light, but it didn’t mask a sense of deep suffering.

She shuddered despite the heat. Something stirred in him.

“I’m guessing you live in Manhattan,” he said.

She nodded. “That’s where the art world is.”

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