I’m scared if I tell Ivy and Marina my fears, what happened between Matt and me, what his dad said about me, they’d see me differently. Dumb, I know since they’re the ones who convinced me to go after Matt in the first place, but I can’t help it. I’m afraid they’ll know what I really am versus what I present. A silly dumb girl who is only thought of for her sexuality, not her brains or her skills.
And I don’t know if I could face them, seeing the judgment in their eyes.
Besides, I know they kept reaching out to me because they only wanted to gossip about Friday night’s party or analyze what happened between Matt and me. I’d rather not think about it at all. The more I do, the more upset I become, especially when the things his dad said to me come into play.
I bet you chase her around your desk all the damn time, trying to get your hands on that ass. I know I would.
Spending the majority of the weekend in bed watching bad TV and eating junk food didn’t do anything to help my mood either. By the time I got my act together and prepared to go into work, I had bags under my eyes, my skin was kind of pale, I felt five pounds heavier, and I had a zit on my chin.
Great.
I showed up right on time though, not wanting to disappoint anyone—specifically Matt. Not wearing any beige or my severe hairstyle either, deciding to give in and go with what’s natural for me, not the phony front I’ve put up since I’ve arrived here. Clad in the dress I wore last Monday, with the black background and blue and green flower and bird pattern, I leave my hair loose and hanging down my back.
I’m tired of the facade. Of being something I’m not. If I had my slightly trampy clothes from my time in Hollywood or even my wardrobe from Cactus, I’d be wearing them. Today. Right now.
But I don’t have any of those clothes anymore. I burned most of them. It had felt like a cleansing of sorts, one I’d needed to start fresh.
Now I wish I had them. Just to remind me of my roots and who I really am. That reminder would fuel me and keep me strong for what I’m about to do today. Something I need to do.
I need to quit.
But Matt showed up late which made me antsy. He came in just past nine with a harried expression on his face, rushing into the room with the determination of a man on a mission. He’d dressed casually, jeans and a polo shirt that fit him to perfection.
My mouth literally waters when I see him now.
But what else is new?
“Had a meeting with the Napa Valley Vintners this morning,” he says, stopping just in front of my desk. His mind is going a mile a minute, I can tell. “I need you to look into flights to New York City in a few weeks. We’re going to attend the Savor Wine Guild annual convention. Had no idea it was going down, so I need to make arrangements quick.”
I grab a pen and start jotting down notes. “What are the dates?”
“We’d have to leave two weeks from today,” he says, whipping out his phone and scrolling through his emails.
My pen stills on the notepad, and I pause for a moment, his words slowly sinking into my dense brain. I glance up to find him watching me carefully. Almost too carefully. “Did you say we?”
“I want you to go with me, Bryn. I’ll need your help. It’s only for a few days but it’s a busy few days. I’ll want your input, and you’ll have to keep me on task,” he explains.
He wants me to go with him, alone, to New York City. I must be hearing things.
“Are you serious?”
“Serious as a heart attack.” His expression is dead serious too. “You’re my assistant right? I can’t do this alone, Bryn. There’s going to be a two-day forum with business discussions, workshops, and extensive, in-depth wine tastings. I can’t be everywhere at once, so I need you to take on some of the workshops and talks or whatever, take notes and get back to me.”
“Okay.” I take a few more notes then turn to my computer and start searching for flights. “Are you sure you want to bring me though? I mean, really? Won’t it be just an extra expense, my flight and hotel room, food and everything else that comes with traveling?”
“I need as many write-offs as I can get,” he says dismissively. “And I can afford to bring you, Bryn. That’s not an issue so don’t worry about it.”
All my plans of giving my notice to Matt fly right out the window at his rapid-fire requests. There’s no way I can leave now. He needs me, as ridiculous as it sounds. Despite all the trouble I will no doubt bring him and the expectations he’ll have, I need to be there for him.
I can do this. I’ll work for the next two weeks, take the trip to New York, run around this convention with him for a few days, come home, and then I’ll give my notice. That ought to give me enough time to find a job in Cactus, not that it should be too difficult.
I’d called my grandma last night, asking if I could go back and live with her in Cactus. She’d agreed readily, her booming voice coming at me over the phone, loud and reminding me why I left my hometown in the first place.
“Of course, you can come live with me, girl. I know Wanda down at the Soap-n-Snip needs a new phone girl. Maybe you could get your cosmetics license and make that career happen. It’s a good one, you know. Why, that sweet little Becky who’s only two years older than you has made herself quite the career working there.”
Then she’d launched into a twenty-minute gossip session full of what’s been happening in Cactus the last few years. By the time she finished, I knew everything. All of it.
Some stuff I found interesting. Other stuff I could care less about. Typical Cactus talk, all of it.
And soon I’ll be back, right in the midst of it all. Working at the Soap-n-Snip, answering the phone, sweeping up hair and generally miserable with life.
At least I’ll be in my element, back in my hometown. Where I can literally let down my hair, be free and be me.
I don’t feel like I can be me anywhere else, not even here.
Especially not here.
“I’ll find some flights and show you the options,” I say, my voice crisp as I go into efficient mode.
“Great. Go to the Savor website and register us too. We’ll probably have to pay for late registration, but I don’t care. I can’t miss this. The people at the Vintners said I must attend this event. We’ll find out the latest trends, see both the business and the creative side of winemaking; it’s going to be pretty awesome.” He smiles, and I smile back unable to stop myself.
He’s just so excited, so pumped to do this. I want to be excited for him. Even though I plan on disappointing him completely within the next month.
Matt
“YOU SLY DOG.” Gage shakes his head just before he takes a bite of his cheeseburger. We’re at a restaurant in downtown St. Helena, one that makes the best burgers and sandwiches and doesn’t have a vegetarian or gluten-free option in sight. This is why the place is filled with mostly men. We’ve grown weary of the massive health movement that’s taken over our area so easily.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my voice neutral.
“You know. Taking the assistant to New York City where none of us can keep tabs on the two of you. Where you’re free to walk around and hold hands, kiss her on the street, and fuck her all night in a hotel room. Smart move, man. Smart. Move.” Gage laughs.
I ignore him, digging into my hamburger with gusto. I’m freaking starving, I’ve been so busy with work for the last three days: hardly taking a break, skipping lunches, staying late. Gage had been giving me endless shit, calling me the last two days saying he wanted to meet for lunch. Finally, after harassing me all morning with nonstop texts, I gave in, telling Bryn I’d be back in an hour and that if I didn’t show up at the office by one-thirty, she needed to buzz me and get my ass back there.
When I’m with either Archer or Gage, we usually start talking about all sorts of crap and lose track of time, especially if there are beers involved.
Today, there aren’t. I made sure of that.
“Does Archer know you’
re taking her to New York? I assume he does. I only found out because Marina told me after she spoke with Bryn yesterday. Like you’d ever tell us.” Gage laughs some more. “I guarantee at the end of the forty-five days I’m going to find a way out of making this payment to you. Watch me. Why should we pay you when you’re off fucking your assistant?”
“You have a dirty mind,” I mutter, grabbing a fry and dipping it in catsup before I point it at him. “Not everything is about fucking, you know. How does Marina put up with your ass day in and day out?”
“Marina loves my ass. And she especially loves my dirty mind.” He waggles his brows at me like a pervert. “And listen to you, the former king of groupies, chastising me like a prude. You sure as hell need to get laid and quick so we can cancel this entire bet once and for all. I’m tired of dealing with your insufferable ass.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” I mutter, shaking my head, concentrating on my lunch. “You’re the one who wanted to have lunch with me in the first place.” He has a point. I’m grumpy as hell because I want Bryn, and she’s turned off the signal completely. It’s like she barely realizes I exist.
I know why though. It’s because of my father. It’s because of that kiss. I regret her having to deal with my dad and the things he said to her. I wish I could’ve protected her from that.
But the kiss? I don’t regret that at all.
“I asked you to lunch so I could find out where your head is at.” He takes a drink from his soda. “So tell me. Did you plan this so-called business trip on purpose to get her in your hotel room or what?”
“Not even,” I scoff, munching on another fry. “We’re attending a conference—and not some phony one either, which I’m sure you’ll accuse me of. I won’t even have time to think about doing anything else except going from workshop to workshop, attend wine tastings and the like. It’s all about the business, my friend. Something you’ve forgotten since you’re too enraptured with your new girlfriend.”
“Says the man taking his obsession with him to New York City so he can do business.” Gage rolls his eyes. “Give me a break, man. We know exactly why you’re taking Bryn with you. To get in her panties.”
Thinking about Bryn in her panties just about gives me a coronary. So many lost opportunities we’ve had in such a short amount of time. Now she acts like she couldn’t give two shits about me.
I hate it. And it’s all my fault so I have no one to blame but myself.
“Definitely not,” I say firmly. “I think she’s over me.”
“Ha!” Gage points at me, his gaze bright and full of triumph. “You admit it; you two are interested in each other.”
“Yeah well, if she was interested in me, she’s definitely not now. She’s back to the efficient, no-nonsense Miss James.”
“I bet she sure is hot though, when she’s the efficient, no-nonsense Miss James,” Gage says with a shit-eating grin.
Jealousy flaring, I throw a fry at him aiming for his face, but he dodges it just in time. “Shut up, dickhead. You’re acting like a child.” What the hell, I feel like lately we’ve reverted to college talk—when we were young and dumb and talked crudely to and about everyone, especially each other.
“Who’s the child here, throwing food and calling me a dickhead?” Gage shakes his head. “I don’t know if any of us are going to survive these new terms. The longer you go without getting some, the grumpier you become. I bet your Miss James lost interest because you’ve become such a tyrant.”
That can’t be the reason. Can it? I doubt it. I think it has something to do with Dad. I have no idea what he said to her; she’s not talking and neither is he. I called him up a few days ago and flat out accused him of saying something shitty to Bryn but he didn’t give an inch.
Leaving me to conclude that he’s guilty as hell.
“The DeLuca Winery is all anyone’s talking about around town,” Gage says, thankfully changing the subject. “Your reopening was a huge hit.”
“Yeah, it went pretty well, didn’t it?” I’m trying to downplay it more for my own sake than anything else. There are still some deals and transactions in the works—trying to get some regional markets to carry the DeLuca brand, pushing out and growing our distribution list. More publicity opportunities too, ones that I’m hopeful will come to fruition and take DeLuca wine to a national level.
Going to Savor will get the DeLuca brand out there even more. I’ve realized quick, especially after meeting with the local Vintners group, that I need to be constantly pushing the name, constantly talking to people in the industry. Creating a good wine is key, but networking is a necessity to selling good wine. Growing, learning, taking it all in—especially at conferences where I meet others in the business, so I can bring it back to DeLuca and apply everything I’ve learned—is important.
Do I really need to take Bryn with me to Savor? Probably not. I would’ve been exhausted running around that conference for two days, and missed a few talks or workshops I wanted to check out, but I could’ve done it all on my own. It’s just so much more fun having her with me. And easier, of course, since she’s beyond capable and will keep me on schedule.
Spending time with her on a plane, in the city, at a hotel. It’s all ripe with possibilities.
If the woman I’m interested in actually acted interested in me, that is.
Chapter Ten
* * *
Bryn
Two weeks later, New York City
I SIT ON my cushy king-size bed with my laptop, glancing over my hand-scribbled notes taken from the endless amount of workshops I went to all day. I have never, in all my life, stayed in a hotel like the W New York at Times Square. Of course, the biggest city I’ve ever been to before was Los Angeles and that’s just a sprawling metropolis with crowded freeways and shopping malls everywhere.
New York City has a completely different vibe. All the buildings are so tall, the sidewalks packed, and everything is open so late. I’ve never seen anything like it. In my hometown, the sidewalks rolled up and shops closed around eight o’clock, nine on Saturdays.
We arrived last night, and Matt had wanted a slice of pizza at one in the morning. We’d promptly gone out and found a place open—not only open but packed.
It thrilled my small-town-bumpkin-self right down to my toes.
While I attended workshops today, Matt went to a discussion symposium, a special wine tasting, and currently he’s at a keynote dinner. He tried to get me to go with him, but I declined, saying I’d rather call for room service and type up the notes I knew I’d have.
He’d reluctantly agreed, telling me I could order whatever I wanted from room service since he was paying for it.
It’s funny, considering how hard I’ve seen him work and how many hours he’s put in at the winery, a lot of the time I forget Matt’s wealthy. As in billionaire-wealthy. The guy is loaded, thanks to both his father and Matt earning a bundle from his baseball contract and various endorsements.
And those are just the most recent ones.
It wasn’t until we stepped on the plane and sat in first class that I saw how the other half lives. Talk about star treatment. I’ve flown once in my life and that was when I went to California—on a shitty little crowded plane that made me pay for a soda, for the love of God. I declined, sitting in my cramped little seat between two large, sweaty businessmen who leered at me the entire flight.
I hated it.
But flying first class in the wide comfy seats, being served constantly, and sitting next to Matt? I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.
That was until I saw the hotel. Oh, my word, it was the prettiest, most modern hotel I’ve ever seen in my life, not that I’ve stayed anywhere beyond a Motel 6. I made sure Matt had a two-room suite with a gorgeous city view and since my room was right next to his—which he’d asked for—I had the same.
I didn’t even care that I wasn’t outside amongst the hustle and bustle of Times Square. I was perfectly content sitting in my suit
e with the gorgeous white bed and shocking pink comforter. The sleek glass furniture and the blooming hot pink orchids everywhere. Me, the Cactus, Texas-supposed-slut, feels like a real life fairytale princess.
All thanks to Matt.
What sucks? I have to give my notice when we return. There’s just no way I can continue working for him. I’m pretending to be this certain type of quiet, demure woman when I’m not. My real self is bound to pop out sooner or later, and I don’t want to do that in front of Matt. He thinks I’m a good girl.
And I can’t seem to let go of my old, bad girl insecurities.
It’s bad enough we’ve kissed a few times. The last thing I want to do is hurt his reputation, so I try my best to avoid him, but it’s near impossible. The tension between us is still there though we never talk about it. I see the way he stares at me when he thinks I’m not looking. I want to return that longing stare. Worse, I want to lock myself away in his office, plop myself on his desk right in front of him and beg him to kiss me.
I think he’d take me up on the offer. I know he would.
But then I’d become the slut everyone accuses me of being. Sleeping with my boss to get ahead—at least, that’s what it would look like. Indulging in a heated affair with the man who signs my paychecks is not smart. Didn’t I learn anything after my failed attempt at a minor affair with Brian Fairbanks?
Leaning against the fabric headboard, I stare out the window at the city lights that surround me. I hadn’t thought of his actual name since I don’t remember when. I prefer to think of him as this faceless, nonentity, otherwise known as my ex-boss. It’s just so much easier that way, not thinking of his name.
Now it all comes back to me. Brian would flash that charming smile as he whipped his thin blond hair away from his eyes, his gaze always eating me up. He had this way of making me feel like I was special, despite the ridiculous way he talked to me about titties and ass and how much his palm itched to give me a spanking.
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