Falling for You

by Travis, Stacy

  The entire interior, though a little smoke-stained, was intact.

  “I had no idea this was here. The realtor didn’t mention it, which is nuts. It’s the best thing about the whole property,” I said in disbelief.

  The bright sun appeared to be muscling its way through the doorway to prove that the interior was sound. The floors were a warm beige stone and the walls were the kind of rough plaster that looked like an underground crypt.

  “Look at this. Is it all stone inside?” Isla asked as we stepped into the room and took in the domed ceilings and high arched entryways made from rows of red brick. The walls took a forty-five degree turn at the tops to continue up and meet in a triangle at the ceiling.

  “Looks like it. Do you feel how much cooler it is in here? That must’ve been great for wine storage.” Isla was moving through the front tasting room to where wooden barrels sat stacked two-high on metal racks against the walls of a storage area.

  At the far end, I could barely make out the shape of a large stone fireplace. Wrought iron sconces flanked a mantel with big pillar candles on top.

  All of it had survived, while the entire exterior landscape had burned to ash.

  “It’s magical,” she said. Light from a high stained-glass window cast a pink and purple light on the floor in the tasting area. I could imagine groups standing in the warm glow of light and sipping wine.

  “No wonder it withstood the fire. Most of this wouldn’t ever burn,” I said, marveling at what felt like a lost civilization. I could picture the winemakers checking the casks and leading tours. We made our way through the space, which had still-standing metal wine casks and a lot of the original equipment. “We’ve got to keep this whole thing. If it’s restored, maybe it can still be used for winemaking onsite.”

  “I didn’t know you were planning on making wine.” Isla ran her hand over the cool stone of the interior wall. “This whole place is gorgeous. I love that it’s here. Like a memory of what came before. You can build something completely new but have this nod to the old.”

  She was right. There was no way I’d tear down any of it. She was also right that I hadn’t planned on making wine. There were enough wineries doing it well and they didn’t need one more amateur coming in and trying his hand.

  “I never planned on making wine, but look at this. It begs to be used. Maybe I can make a deal with a small wine label and let them use the space in exchange for being our exclusive supplier.”

  “Or better yet, you can have a rotating list of winemakers use it. Kind of speaks to your whole boutique idea—feature different local wines and keep changing it up so people will keep coming back to taste whatever’s new.”

  I grabbed Isla so abruptly that she squealed. “That’s brilliant. It’s completely the vision I’ve been going for.”

  I didn’t let her go.

  She turned around in my arms. “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “Absolutely. I hadn’t been thinking of it like that, but with this wine cave, it’s perfect. It’s exactly the kind of history I want to infuse into each of my projects.”

  I loosened my grip a little when I felt her pull away. My heart lurched into my throat as I realized that the spontaneous gestures were all mine. She was still an expert at maintaining boundaries.

  The friend zone was smacking me hard and I needed to pay attention or risk alienating her entirely.

  Still, she didn’t seem put off that I’d grabbed her—her face held a radiant smile. “Learned from the master. All the things you said made me reevaluate how I’d been thinking about expanding. I was going for the easy, low-hanging fruit instead of thinking a little harder about how to do things differently—and better.”

  That made me feel like a gazillion bucks. “I’m glad it was helpful,” I said.

  What I wanted to tell her was that she should have her bread in the restaurants at every one of my hotel properties, but I had to tread carefully. If she found out that I’d already been running numbers and thinking about how her business might work in conjunction with mine, she’d probably freak out.

  And I was having too much fun with her.

  I didn’t want to ruin it by letting her know I’d been wondering if I could get her to supply bread to this new hotel long before the two of us ever had a real conversation.

  And way before we’d come up with our strange definition of friendship, which still didn’t sit entirely right with me.

  The last thing I needed was for her to think I had designs on anything having to do with her business, especially now that she was mired in worry over a competitor she couldn’t get to back off.

  Better to keep quiet and show her a good time for the next twenty-four hours.

  “C’mon, let’s check out the rooms over here,” I said. I led her to the opposite side of the tasting room, where another part of the cave had pressing equipment and more barrels.

  The place was incredible.

  Isla sat on one of the upturned wine barrels while I continued to poke around. “Let me know if you find a bread oven and I’ll come running.” When she spoke, her voice echoed throughout the room.

  “Would be easy enough to put one in,” I said with the same echo back to her. I kept walking until I found a second room with an old crystal chandelier hanging from the arched stone ceiling. I called Isla to come check it out. “Look. My guess was there was a dining room set up in here at one time, maybe for exclusive entertaining. Do you see the size of the chandelier?”

  Her eyes widened. “It’s massive.” She leaned against the wall and looked up toward another high window, the only source of light in the room. But there were more candles on tall iron holders with curled metal leaves winding around the stems.

  “This is the first time in my life I’ve wished I was a smoker, so I’d have matches in my pocket,” I said. “Note to self, Owen Miller: always come prepared.”

  She laughed. “Did you know that I didn’t know your name for the longest time?” She said it like it was a mammoth confession and she expected me to be insulted.

  “What do you mean? When I first started coming to the bakery?”

  She took a deep breath. “Yes. We’d talked and you’d told me your name, but then I forgot. Then after seeing you the next few times, I couldn’t come out and ask you after pretending I knew. So for months, I hoped it would somehow come up in conversation—not that there was any organic reason for you to suddenly blurt out your name—which is why it never came up.”

  “But you called me Owen when we first started talking the morning you saw all that crap on social media about Tom.”

  She nodded. “Yes. I knew before then because I finally asked Kim to look at your credit card and tell me. I was embarrassed that you kept coming in and asking all these questions about bread making and I’d forgotten your name . . . can you forgive me?”

  She was adorable. But I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to get something I wanted. “Hmm, that’s pretty insulting. I’m not sure I can forgive you. Not without some groveling . . .”

  Grinning, she moved closer to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Please, Owen. Once I knew your name it stuck. And now, I’ll never forget it . . .”

  “Nope, I don’t feel quite seen. I may need some actual begging.” I grabbed her ass and gave it a squeeze. She yelped and pressed closer. Our lips were inches away from each other and I could have happily closed the distance, but I wanted to see what she’d do.

  Her lips were on mine before I could give anything else much thought.

  She kissed me hard and I gave back just as hard. When she withdrew, we were both breathless and her cheeks were flushed pink.

  “Please . . . I do want to make it up to you and I have an idea.”

  There was no music, but she started dancing through the room, spinning to music that apparently only she could hear. Dancing over to me, she took my hand and I wrapped an arm around her waist so we could properly Fred and Ginger around the room.

  As we danc
ed, she looked around the cool, dark wine cave as if trying to find inspiration. I was onboard with whatever that amounted to. “You know, I’ve always kind of had this fantasy about being taken in a barn by a cowboy . . .”

  I couldn’t stop the smile from taking over my entire face. “I hate to be the one to tell you this isn’t a barn. And I ain’t a cowboy . . .”

  But I was hardly going to let that make a difference if she wanted a fantasy.

  She waved a hand. “Semantics. Fine. Take me in the wine cave until I don’t know my own name.”

  “Darlin’, done."

  She led me from the front area of the original tasting room where shards of light shone through high windows onto the dusty floor. We wove between old casks positioned under high arched ceilings with balustrades criss-crossing overhead.

  “How about here?” She was leaning against an old metal barrel and looking straight into my eyes.

  “No way am I saying no to you anywhere.” I lifted her up, pressing her hard against the curved side of a metal vessel. She wrapped her legs around my waist and bent her mouth to my ear.

  “Whatcha wanna do, big guy?” she whispered, her breath warming my skin and reducing my options to one.

  “I wanna make you come in a wine cave.” I wanted to make her scream so loud that the winemakers in the next country would stop and say a prayer for their harvests. I wanted to fuck her so badly that I’d have given away the whole property if it meant I could have my way with her in the wine room for another two hours.

  I wanted this. I wanted her.

  I tried not to let myself acknowledge that what I really wanted was much more than two hours in a wine cave. I tried not to think about how it was temporary because we were just friends.

  In that moment, none of it mattered because she was mine.

  Her hands were in my hair, and her breasts pressed so hard against my chest that I had chills. The combination of her hard nipples and her wild eyes brought me back to the present with sudden urgency.

  We went from zero to a million in seconds, just like every time I was with her.

  Lifting her higher, I sat her on the flat top of a large barrel and she yanked me closer. Our lips fused and our tongues danced.

  It wasn’t polite or gentle. It was a need to consume each other. It was all lust.

  I pulled the thin sweater over her head, revealing the luscious full cups of her pink lace bra. She smirked. “I remember you liked me in pink.”

  Then her lips were hot on my neck, sucking so hard I was sure I’d be walking into work with a hickey, but I didn’t give a shit.

  “I love you in pink.” I popped the button on her jeans, revealing panties that matched.

  She wriggled out of them, pulling at my shirt at the same time, so I whipped it over my head and her hands went straight to my chest.

  “You are so goddamn sexy, it’s dangerous,” I whispered, knowing my breath near her ear made her crazy.

  She returned the gesture by sweeping her tongue down the side of my neck, hopping off the wine barrel, and continuing her assault down my chest and over my abs, sucking and licking and nipping at me with her teeth.

  She looked up at me and smiled. In that moment, I knew I was done for.

  Her fingers reached to unbuckle my pants and I groaned in anticipation of whatever she wanted to do.

  Then her lips were back on my skin, sucking hard and kissing my abs lower until she slid down my pants and her tongue ran lightly over the head of my cock. A tease.

  “C’mere, cowboy,” she said with a grin, looking up at me with her mouth wrapped around the tip. There was no more beautiful sight than her lips around me, enjoying the fact that she owned me right now.

  Her hand wrapped around the shaft and she moved slowly as her mouth closed around me, taking deep and sucking lightly. Teasing again.

  Then taking me all the way, sucking me to the back of her throat, her tongue running down the length of my pulsing erection.

  My hands fisted in her hair, feeling the build of my release. I wasn’t going to last long, not when she hummed against my skin and sucked me even harder. When her hand went between my legs and she stroked my balls, I lost my fucking mind.

  I didn’t want to come like this, not if she didn’t want it. I’d pull out and try to wrangle enough brain cells to put on a condom.

  “I’m close… let’s—”

  “No,” she said, refusing to relinquish an inch. “Come on, cowboy. Show me what you’ve got,” she said between luxurious licks and strokes.

  That’s all it took. I’d passed the point of no return and surrendered to her mouth, gripping her and filling her throat. I pulsed and thrusted. I moaned her name and fell completely under her spell.

  Right then I knew three things.

  She was going to kill me with those lips, I was going to fall madly for her, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  Chapter 20

  Isla

  We spent a good long time living out my barn fantasy, and the reality exceeded my wildest expectations.

  What the wine cave was missing in hay bales it more than made up for in beautiful spaces with natural light making everything look magical.

  After we’d clicked the padlock on the gate to the property, I’d assumed we’d make the drive back down to San Francisco, maybe stopping on the way home for dinner.

  Owen had other plans.

  “You said you’re not opening the bakery in the morning, correct?” he asked.

  “Right. I should stop in around noon and get everything prepped for the week, but I have no morning plans. Why?”

  He was looking ahead at the miles of vines at the adjacent property so I couldn’t get a direct look at his face, but even from the side I could see his eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “No reason. And you didn’t make any plans for later tonight?”

  “No, I’m free all evening. Why? Is there another property you want to check out?”

  He nodded. “There is. Are you game for a little adventure?”

  He unlocked the car doors with his clicker, but he still came around to the passenger side and swung the door open for me.

  “Always. You had me at merlot.” I was quoting one of the T-shirts he’d brought me. They were adorable and even though he wasn’t looking directly at me, I could see his smile from the side.

  Any adventure with him sounded great. I’d been burning the candle down to a nub and hadn’t taken time off in months. It was starting to catch up with me.

  Driving around and looking at empty fields—and multiple orgasms in the wine cave—sure beat spending another day looking over spreadsheets and trying to figure out how to beat back Centinela Bread.

  When Owen closed his door and started the ignition, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “For what? I should be thanking you for your brilliant ideas and for spending your free time tromping through dead vineyards.”

  “You’ve thanked me plenty, rest assured.” I smirked at him, remembering exactly how attentive he’d been. “I’m thanking you for getting me out of my bubble. I needed a break, and I didn’t even realize it.”

  He smiled. “I’m so pleased to hear you say so.” He backed the car up and put it in gear. I was starting to appreciate the speed and handling of the Porsche as we left a cloud of dust behind and zoomed along the wine route.

  The late afternoon sun bounced off the rows of winding grapevines and I marveled at how I could feel like I was on a faraway vacation just by getting an hour outside the city.

  “I used to do this all the time when I was younger, just take off and drive north. We used to go wine tasting or bring our bikes up and ride. It’s hilly up near Calistoga but this area is fun to just go. Oh well, that was a long time ago,” I said.

  When I looked over at Owen I noticed he was chuckling. I elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow.”

  “Why are you laughing at me?”

  “I’m not, I swear. I
t’s just, the way you talk about the olden days or whatever, it makes it sound like you think you’re a hundred. You’re thirty-four. You haven’t missed the baby window. You’re not a geriatric bread widow. Your life is good. You have so many more days ahead of you to drive up here and ride your bike around.”

  He was right. I sounded ridiculous. “Yeah, for sure. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

  “I do. Or at least, I’ll venture a guess if you won’t elbow me again if I’m wrong.”

  “Can’t make any promises.” I readied my elbows.

  He smiled and stared out at the road ahead without speaking. “You’re just letting things get to you, is all,” he said quietly.

  I was glad he didn’t feel the need to be specific.

  “No elbows for that. And you’re correct.”

  “Can I venture another guess?”

  “You don’t have to ask. I’m not going to hurt you. I like you too much.” He had no idea how true that last part was. I did like him too much and I had a feeling it would be my undoing.

  “Okay. I also think you’re someone who’s always succeeded at everything you’ve ever tried to do. If I were to guess, captain of the track team, MVP or some damn thing? Winner of whatever awards they gave at your school for being responsible and motivated and purposeful? Opened your first bakery and succeeded within a year so you wrote a cookbook and that led to a second one along with several awards and accolades as you dominated the San Francisco restaurant scene.”

  “Someone else has been Googling, sounds like. And what’s your point?”

  “You haven’t failed. Ever. And it scares the shit out of you that you might do it now. But I’m gonna tell you two things. First, if you fail here or there, who gives a shit? Dust yourself off and keep going. Figure out how to bounce back and move on. Run up the next hill, bake the next loaf and keep going. But second . . .”

  He turned and looked at me. I had no choice but to return his gaze. His hand went to my cheek and I was a little nervous we were going to careen off the road, but thankfully the roads in Napa are pretty straight.