Page 58 of One Week Wingman

Is he? A part of me can’t help wishing it were true.

“So, are you making plans for the future?” she asks, clearly fishing for information.

I busy myself with another bite of croissant. “Maybe,” I say vaguely, before remembering, I’m supposed to be selling Sebastian as Mr. Commitment. “I mean, I would love for this to last,” I add. “Sebastian is great, and I have such a fun time when I’m with him. But not just fun,” I add. “He’s a wonderful listener, and he has a way of making you feel… Comfortable, like all your doubts and insecurities don’t matter anymore. He has hidden depths, and I don’t think people realize that. He cares, about the people in his life, about his work… I’ve seen how passionate he is about the vineyard and winemaking, it’s really been a surprise.”

I stop, realizing I’ve been babbling away. “Sorry,” I say, flushing.

“No, don’t apologize,” Natalia looks thoughtful. “I’m beginning to see that I’ve underestimated him. It’s clear you’re very much in love.”

I seek refuge in my pastry again, so I don’t have to lie. Because every other word I just said to her?

It’s the truth.

Sebastianhassurprised me this week. The way he’s shown up and supported me with my family, he’s really had my back. And, yes, he’s tormented and teased me, when we’re alone, but all the flirting aside, I’ve seen a side to him that I never expected.

And I want more.

When Sebastianand Franco finally return from the vineyard, we say our goodbyes and hit the road. As he drives, Seb can’t stop talking about his morning with Franco, and all the ideas he has for the property… Providing Franco decides to go for the partnership.

“I think he’s coming around,” Seb says excitedly. “We were talking non-stop about biodynamic farming and next year’s yield. It’s only a matter of time.”

I watch him talk, hands flexing on the steering wheel. “What?” Seb asks, catching me staring.

I smile. “Nothing. It’s just fun seeing you like this. You seem so in your element. It’s a whole different side of you.”

“A good side?” he asks, with a flirty grin.

“We’ll see…” I laugh.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “You really hit it off with Natalia, and you have a way of calming me down, too.”

“That was you calm?” I joke, registering the fact that he’s still technically holding my hand.

He laughs. “I can get pretty carried away when I’m passionate about something.”

I recall getting carried away by Seb’s passion.

Vividly.

My phone buzzes with a text from my mom, full of plans for the anniversary party and logistical questions about the reunion. I sigh, coming back down to earth with a bump. The vineyard felt like a vacation from all my family issues, but now we’ve got to go back to reality.

“Trouble?” he asks.

“Just my mom. This anniversary party of theirs is turning into a major event,” I explain, reluctantly letting go of his hand to type out a response. “The guest list is pushing a hundred, and now she’s talking about centerpieces…”

“Do we have to go straight back?” Seb asks, as if reading my mind.

“Please. No,” I say immediately. Who’s to say we didn’t hit traffic, or blow a tire, or anything else that will delay my return to Ashford Falls? “Take me anywhere but home.”

He gets a playful smile. “I know just the place.”

Sebastian makes a turn off the highway, and before long, we’re driving along the coast. It’s one of the things I loved about growing up here in Connecticut, how you can go from fields and farmland to the ocean in no time at all. The beaches are all empty and windswept in the crisp autumn air, and it’s so peaceful out here, I let my family drama drift away again on the salty ocean breeze.

“Don’t ask me how I found this place,” Seb says, parking on a bluff overlooking the sand. There’s a dilapidated shack by the side of the road advertising fried oysters and fish sandwiches.

“Now, you can’t say something like that and not expect a follow-up,” I argue. I follow him to the front window, where we order a spread of fish and fries.

He smiles. “Well, Dash and I got drunk one night. And somewhere along the line, a decision was made to drive to Montreal for fresh bagels. Nothing like a Montreal bagel,” he adds.

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