Page 53 of A Vintage of Regret
Bryson:Be right there. Just after one last race.
Riley smiled and typed a quick reply.
Riley:Better hurry. You need a shower, a shave, and a decent suit. We’re going to Monica’s party.
“Oh my.” Brea pointed. “Bryson’s about to…” Brea turned her head.
Riley grimaced as Bryson stood in the yard, staring at his phone, as Devon tackled him. “Hopefully, that didn’t leave a mark.”
“Let’s get you all dolled up,” Brea said, taking Riley’s hand. “We’ve got a party to go to.”
Riley swallowed, wondering if she’d ever be able to backpedal her way out of this one. But maybe this was exactly what she needed to get her mind off Grant and everything else surrounding her family.
Bryson had faced barrel-aged tempers, harvests from hell, and the heartbreak of watching the love of his life walk away. However, none of it had prepared him for the sight of Riley standing in the foyer, wearing a purple dress that looked like it had been designed with only her in mind.
His breath caught in his throat as his heart dropped to his toes. The room spun and faded in the background.
His mother leaned closer, squeezing his shoulder. “What do you think?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“This party’s going to be bloody hellish,” Devon said as he passed him on the staircase, babbling something about Monica’s poor taste in menus and artisanal cheese displays.
His mother chuckled as she strolled down the steps, toward Riley, leaving him standing there like an idiot.
Bryson’s mouth dried out. The air thinned. And for a second, all the years between him and Riley disappeared in a swirl of purple fabric.
He gripped the banister, taking the steps slowly, praying he didn’t face-plant on the marble floor.
The dress clung to her curves in ways that made his brain go sideways. Her hair was down, loose and soft around her shoulders, and her makeup was just enough to highlight her eyes. She was poised, calm—and utterly devastating.
Only, now, he really didn’t want to go to the party. He wanted to rip that dress off her and ravish her in unspeakable ways.
Riley looked up and smiled. “Hey, you.”
He forced his feet to keep moving. “You look…” He trailed off, because ‘like every mistake I made twelve years ago’ didn’t sound like a compliment. “Incredible. Beautiful. Amazing…”
A little smile touched her lips. “You clean up pretty well yourself.” She winked.
“Ready for this?” Bryson asked.
“No,” Riley said, taking his hand and pressing it against her cheek. “But I’m not wasting this dress, so let’s go before I change my mind.”
Taking her by the hand, he led her outside and opened the passenger door to his truck.
“We’re not going with your parents?”
“My mom insisted we drive separately.” He chuckled. “She thought we might want to slip out early and have some alone time.”
“I’ve blushed more times today than I did during the entirety of high school, when your parents kept catching us with your hand up my shirt.”
“I was obsessed with your breasts.” He leaned closer, taking her chin with his thumb and forefinger. He brushed his mouth over her lips in a gentle kiss. Every nerve ending in his body ignited. She was the kindling to his fire. He pulled away before things got out of control. “I still am.” Gently, he closed the door and jogged around the hood.
Slipping behind the steering wheel, he sucked in a few deep breaths and eased out behind his parents' big, dark SUV. “Not to sour the mood, but I can’t believe we’re all going to this. Since the divorce, it's usually just my parents who go. If one of my sisters, or Devon, is dating someone who has to be there, then they’ll make an appearance, but we haven’t all attended since Iwas married to Monica.” He shook his head. “And the last time I was at the event, it didn’t go well.”
“Really?” She turned her head and twirled a few stray strands of hair between her fingers. “Do tell.”
“Not much to tell other than Monica was mad over… something. I was drinking. A lot. And she took my wine glass from my hand and tossed it in my face. I laughed. She yelled. I kicked her out that weekend and filed for divorce the following Monday. She spent the next year begging me to take her back.”
