Page 113 of The Mountain Echoes
“Oh, and you’re so in love with him as well.” Joy claps a hand on her chest. “This is so lovely, and I’m so happy for…well, both of you. My brother is quite a catch, and you look like someone worth the hell you’re going to put him through.”
I’m not used to someone as direct as Joy. I flush.
She goes into the kitchen while I settle into a chair. She comes back with canapes—round blinis topped with crème fraiche and caviar.
“Well, this ain’t a ranch barbecue.”
“I’m from Dallas and New York, honey, I like my luxuries.”
“Now I wish I’d brought sparkling wine,” I say regretfully.
“I have some in the wine fridge,” Joy offers immediately.
I shake my head. “The chardonnay will go well withit.”
So, while eating blinis and caviar, and drinking some very good white wine, I get to know Maverick’s sister.
Joy Kincaid is open, full of energy, and she’s kind.
She adores her brother.
She likes the quiet and ease of living in Wildflower Canyon.
But there’s a sadness, or rather a solemnity, in her, and when she speaks about her time in New York, she’s equal parts sad and happy.
We talk about Wildflower Canyon, what’s changed, what hasn’t.
I tell her about my life in Napa.
She listens without interrupting. She’s easy to like.
“You’re younger than I thought,” she says, not unkindly. “Mav’s got nearly ten years on you.”
“Does that matter?”
“Not to me,” she shrugs. “Not to him. Does it to you?”
“I don’t know what Mav and I are,” I admit. “We’re not anything. Not really.”
“Puhlease!” She arches a brow, amusement flickering in her gaze.
Right then, Maverick walks in—and the air changes, proving Joy’s point.
He’s dusty, windblown, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and he smiles when he sees me.
Not a cocky smirk.
A real smile.
Like he’s glad I’m here.
“Darlin’.” He plants a kiss on my lips and then headsto his sister, who offers him her cheek. “Has Joy been behavin’?”
“Hell no!” Joy exclaims. “I’ve been interrogating her by plying her with caviar. She brought the wine.”
“I’m goin’ to take a quick shower and get cookin’.” His eyes are on me, warm and…loving?
He holds my gaze. I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized.
