Page 99 of Love Among Vines

She nudged him under the comforter. “You’re selling yourself short, Mr. Perfectionist. Are we ready to name the wine?”

He nodded and stared pensively at the sky.

“Did you already have some ideas?”

“A few. None of them felt quite right. For our basic line, we just go with whatever varietal is in the bottle. But for the special batches, we usually go for something vague and serious-sounding. Autumn Splendor Select, Golden Harvest Reserve, that kind of thing.”

“Autumn Splendor Select?” Jade asked. “You know that abbreviation spells ‘ass,’ right?”

Rett stared at her for a moment and seemed to be thinking hard. “Shit.”

A smile spread across her face. “It’s still better than all the bird-themed ones I tasted while I was here. If I never againhave one more Ruby-Crested Sparkler or Whistling Warbler Chardonnay, it’ll be too soon.”

“Well, you can see why the name thing is so important. And I left less than a week to figure it out. How irresponsible,” he muttered.

Jade snorted. “Sorry. It’s just nice to not be the irresponsible one for once.” She took a bite out of the remaining mini cheesecake on her plate and flopped back onto the pillows, luxuriating in the caress of the blanket against her bare skin.

“My god, this is so good. It’s really annoying that you’re so good at everything. Also, you’re way overthinking this name thing.”

“What do you mean? It’s hopefully going to be a permanent part of our offerings. I have to take it seriously.”

“The answer is right in front of you.” She sat up and jabbed a finger down the driveway where the winery’s welcome sign was partially visible.

He turned toward her, brows furrowed. His gaze dipped temporarily to her chest, then corrected to her face. He may have been a businessman and hell of a baker, but he clearly wasn’t used to thinking outside the box.

She smiled. “Your wine should be called Valentina. After your grandmother.”

He sat up and picked up the bottle, rolled it in his hand. “Valentina,” he repeated, like he was trying it on for size.

“It’s your homage to her. No offense to Ass Select or Gasoline-Infused Elegance or whatever you wanted to call it, but this wine is called Valentina. I won’t be convinced otherwise.”

“It’s perfect.” He sat the bottle down and leaned back into the pillows, ghost of a smile on his face. He rolled over and turned to her, brushed a hair out of her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I’ll take care of the label design.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. You have enough on your plate.” His grumpy expression was back.

“Consider it an investment,” she said and booped him on the nose.

His hand slipped around her back and he gathered her close. It was hard to tell which was more intoxicating—the wine on his lips or the gentle give of his flesh against hers. His fingers skated up her skin, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps.

He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

Her heart staggered as she returned his embrace, pushing her bare torso into his. The sex had been mind-blowing. Probably the best she had ever had. But the post-orgasm clarity she’d banked on had never come. And now she was helping him create a permanent piece of his business.

He insisted everything was fake. Nothing beyond a mutually beneficial friendship. But these tender, post-coital kisses? They didn’t feel fake or temporary. And the look in his eyes when she named his wine? There was a flicker of something deeper there. Wasn’t there?

Maybe she was doing what she always did—romanticizing and idealizing. Misreading the signals. There was probably a dog hair in his eye. He had said in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want a relationship. But didn’t he deserve a partnership, even if it wasn’t with her? Life was too short to be bitter, scared, and alone. Work wasn’t going to take care of him when he was old. The vineyard couldn’t take him on memorable trips and build a life with him. Let alone start a family like Margie said he wanted.

She pulled back with half a mind to tell him her thoughts. But something in the burning intensity of those green eyes made her swallow her words.

A fall wind whipped across the rooftop, pebbling her nipples.

Maybe the post-orgasm clarity had never come because she hadn’t been in charge. She had been a pillow princess, lying backand allowing him to ravage her. Maybe she just needed one more solid bang.

She closed her eyes and kissed him again, harder this time. His tongue slipped into her mouth, gently probing.

She rolled him onto his back, then climbed on top. Desire was building in her again. Was their insane connection a fluke? Maybe the romantic date and seven straight days of psychological foreplay had clouded her experience. There was only one way to find out. Sweeping her hair to one side, she dipped her head to kiss his neck. She licked and sucked, determined to give him something to remember her by.

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