Page 13 of Kisses Sweeter than Wine

“That would require a lot of money.”

“I’ve spent my entire adult life living off almost nothing. I rented tiny apartments and put most of my paycheck in the bank.” He chuckled. “I’m currently living on my parents’ winery in a little cottage rent free. I’ve never been one to spend money. With a little help from the bank, I bet I could swing it.”

“I wish I could say that. I’ve always lived at a hotel. Our rooms were cheap and while I’m not into designer clothes and shoes like my boss, I do kind of have a thing for expensive handbags.”

“Everyone has a vice.”

“Yeah. What’s yours?” She dropped her feet to the step, rested her elbows on her knees, and cradled her cheeks in her hands.

“I’m a walking contradiction.” He set his beer aside and leaned back. “A career as a parole officer tends to make you distrusting. Everyone I worked with were criminals and I’d say more than half of them made a habit of lying to me. I learned not to believe a word that came out of their mouths. However, I always wanted to believe them. I want to trust people, but I don’t. It’s a weird conundrum to walk around in.”

“That sounds like you feel that way about people in general, and not just those parolees you were charged with.”

He laughed. “I’ve had that problem since I was twenty, before I started my career.”

“What happened that made you so distrusting?”

Merlot never liked talking about his past, especially regarding Rachel, but she’d gotten what she deserved. His father had made sure she felt the pain of her false accusations. Merlot hadn’t cared about the slander or the civil suit. What mattered more to him was the public apology. However, that never came. She negotiated the civil suit and paid the restitution when they settled it.

And then they both signed a nondisclosure agreement.

He could only say so much.

“It’s been a series of events starting with family secrets, dating the wrong woman who used a personal tragedy to gaslight me, then tried to destroy my character years later, to constantly holding everyone to a standard that I’m not sure exists, but believe died with my first and only love.” Whenever anyone asked him about his past, or he got into in-depth conversations with a woman he’d started dating, he rarely discussed Daisy. He didn’t feel the need to share that the love of his life had died when he’d been only seventeen. It wasn’t about keeping it a secret, but more about protecting her memory. At least that’s what he told himself.

His family had a different theory. They all believed he didn’t share anything about Daisy because if he did, it would free him from the chain he’d attached to her death.

It made sense, considering there was a sense of freedom sitting on this porch and expressing a small portion of his feelings.

“That’s a lot.” Talbot sat up taller. “I’m stuck on the last part about your first and only love dying. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“That might require another beer.” His chest tightened. A part of him felt as though Daisy were present somehow. That her arms were stretching down from heaven and wrapping around his body, telling him it was all okay. It was odd because he’d never felt this close to Daisy before. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe he carried her with him; it was just that this was the first time he could sense her presence.

“I think I can handle that.” Talbot jumped to her feet and scurried off inside.

He glanced over his shoulder and groaned. It had been a long time since a woman made him feel this alive. He did worry that her resemblance to Daisy might be part of the attraction, but other ladies he dated had a similar look. He did have a type.

Long hair.

Blue eyes.

Athletic build.

Those were the physical attributes.

Regarding personality, he always enjoyed someone who liked to be outdoors and had a great sense of humor. He wanted someone who could challenge him intellectually, but wouldn’t allow him to take everything so seriously.

He wasn’t sure where Talbot fell yet, except he enjoyed her company more than any other woman he’d met in a long time.

She returned, balancing a tray of cheese, meats, and crackers on one hand, and carrying his beer in the other. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I kind of am.” He nodded.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she lowered her chin. “I’m all ears.”

“All right, but you must tell me something personal about yourself. Deal?”

“That’s fair.” She nodded. “You go first.”

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