Page 23 of Bourbon Wishes
He just meets my gaze, his suspiciously soft.
"Behave today, baby."
"I always behave," I grumble.
His smirk grows before he shakes his head. "We both know that's a damn lie." He doesn't give me time to object to his revisionist history of my impeccable behavior before he closes my door. "I'll see you this afternoon."
I immediately roll my window down, frowning at him. "What do you mean, you'll see me this afternoon? We're going to the same place."
"We aren't. Trystan and I have a meeting in Santa Barbara this morning. We're looking at the distillery there."
"Oh." My brows furrow. I forgot all about the meeting. It's been on his schedule for weeks. They're considering partnering with the distillery for their new craft gin, one exclusive to this region. I blame him for me not remembering. My mind is currently goo, kind of like my legs.
"We'll be back by mid-afternoon."
"Take pictures," I order.
"We don't need them. I'll remember where everything is located."
"I'm not talking about the layout." I roll my eyes at him, though I'm not really surprised he'll have the place memorized before they leave. His mind is a terrifying weapon. "I mean, of the two of you, on a road trip. I need them for social media."
He eyes me levelly.
"You agreed to let me share snippets of you guys running the vineyard. This is part of it."
"I seem to recall agreeing to let you share snippets of them doing their jobs. I do not recall agreeing to play along."
"Yeah, well, you should have read the fine print. You're part of the family, and you're the heart of the vineyard. I need shots of you, too." He opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off witha hard glare. "Do you want me to catapult the vineyard to social media stardom or not? If so, bring me the photos, Bastian."
"Fine," he mutters, shaking his head. "But we're going to revisit this conversation later."
"No, we're not. You agreed. Too late to back out now." I beam up at him. "But feel free to complain about it. I know that makes your shriveled heart happy."
"That's one."
"One what?"
"Strike."
"So we're counting now? Because I'm probably already at one thousand if you want to get technical." I smirk at him. "But sure, reset the strike clock. I can inch it right back up there, no problem."
"Big words for a woman who doesn't know what happens when I get to three." He quirks a brow at me, his gaze running down my body.
My core clenches. My heart races. Warning bells alarm in the back of my mind. "Uh, what happens when you get to three?"
"I fuck you over my desk with your panties stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet," he says like he's giving me the weather report. And then he taps the side of my car before stepping away. "Behave today."
"Bastian!" I shove my head all the way out of the window, mildly alarmed that he actually means it. "No. Get back here!"
His wicked laugh drifts back to me, and damn…that laugh is deadly. He needs to use it more.
"You are not fucking me at work!" I shout to his retreating back.
"We'll see."
I gape after him…and then slink down in my seat when I see Diego standing in the window of the restaurant, watching us. Crap. Did he hear me shouting about Bastian fucking me atwork? At this point, half the dang town probably knows what we did in the parking lot last night. I'm pretty sure that muddy bundle of fabric a few spots over is what's left of my Spanx.
I drop my head back against the headrest, groaning up at the ceiling. What have I gotten myself into?
