Be Mine Forever (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel)

by Adair, Marina

  “Then don’t.” He pulled back and the look he sent her spoke to every womanly part of her body. “Let me have a talk with him. Explain that I’m moving to Italy and this is just a couple of guys hanging out, racing cars, and building fires.”

  “Fire and racing are not two words that make a mom feel all warm and cozy. And,” she paused taking a brave breath, “what if something goes wrong and I’m not there?”

  Because that was what happened to her. People left and never came back. Her father had craved freedom, Garrett adventure, and her grandmother peace in her old age. All of them had their reasons, but the result was the same—Sara had lost another person she loved. She would give anything to go back and tell them that she loved them, beg them not to leave her.

  Sara knew that she was overprotective of Cooper, but life had taught her to hold tight to what she loved. Because once they were gone—it was forever.

  Trey stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing, the fierceness in his expression radiating through her entire being and cracking open something inside of her.

  He got it. Trey understood the pain of loss, it was there hanging heavy in his eyes. He might be a runner, Sara thought, but he ran for a reason. It was the same reason she clung so tightly to her world.

  Fear.

  “It’s two days, Sara,” he reasoned.

  “A lot can happen in two days.”

  “Not with me there,” he whispered. Against her lips. “Just give me a chance to make this right.”

  “As long as you promise me he won’t be crushed,” she whispered back, praying he was true to his word that he wouldn’t disappoint her.

  He nodded and since their lips were right there, a breath apart, he kissed her. Soft, and reassuring, and everything she needed in that moment.

  Sara allowed herself to float for just a moment before pulling back. “No blurring the lines, remember?”

  “Lines,” he repeated. Against her throat, her neck, and lower. “Where is that line again? Nothing below the waist, right?”

  “Wrong rule,” she breathed, loving how he could make her let go of the stress from the day, the bad memories that always seemed to linger, and enjoy the moment.

  “That’s your problem. Too many rules.” Trey covered her mouth with his completely. This time his lips were hot and hungry and—

  “Mmmmm. You taste like frosting.”

  He was laughing when he pulled back. “Cooper’s specialty.”

  “Graham crackers with frosting?”

  “And bananas. You didn’t get a good enough taste, come here.” He went for her mouth but she smacked his chest and pushed back.

  “Here is the line.” She drew an imaginary line around her body. “No crossing it. Not with Cooper down the hall.”

  “That was a box, not a line. And you said we had to be creative.” He took a step forward, caging her between the counter and his body. “Sex in a man-made snowstorm counts as creative if you ask me. We could even lie down and make naked snow angels.” He trailed a finger between her breasts. “You go first.”

  Sara warmed. He was even charming when he argued. “How about you help me clean up the snow? Then tomorrow at ten fifteen I come to your hotel room and we get creative. In that bed. I have a forty-five-minute break between classes.”

  “No good,” he said. His finger grazed over her nipple, “Five minutes to change your shoes,” down to her stomach, “another five to lock up,” around her belly button, “and five to get to my suite. And another ten to get you back.” His hand stopped right at the hem of her dance skirt and his gaze met hers. “That only gives me twenty minutes to be creative, and sweetheart, I need every second for what I’m planning.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” she asked, not sure if she could wait much past tomorrow to kiss him again.

  “I’ll come to you,” he said. “And we can mark that pole off my bucket list.”

  The sun was actually shining when Sara pulled into her driveway. Because of a last-minute Garden Society meeting, most of her senior ladies had called to say that they wouldn’t make the Waltz and Rumba Infusion class—leaving only Stan and Harvey. When both refused to partner the other, Sara called it a night.

  Grabbing the pizza from the passenger seat, she went in the house excited to surprise her guys. Only when she reached the kitchen and looked out in the backyard, she was the one who found herself staring in awe.

  Heart in her throat, Sara crept out on the back porch, careful to stay beneath the shade of the overhang so as not to interrupt the male bonding that was transpiring on the lawn below. Trey and Cooper stood over what appeared to be every bit of Garrett’s old camping gear, and some she didn’t recognize, cataloguing it.

  Both were dressed in well-worn jeans, ball caps, and matching camo T-shirts. Only Trey’s shirt was dangling from his back pocket. He must have been at this for quite a while because even in the chilly winter air, his skin was slick with heat, which made her slick and hot. And when he picked up a tattered looking tent and began unrolling it on the flattest part of the lawn, muscles that Sara had explored just yesterday during their pole-dancing lesson bunched and flexed as he moved, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

  “Can you see if there’s a mallet over there?” Trey asked, dumping out the contents of the tent bag. Six metal stakes, a bundle of rope, and some kind of supports fell to the grass.

  “There’s a metal one and a rubber one,” Cooper said, his head stuck in a giant metal tool box. Garrett’s toolbox.

  “The metal one’s a hammer, the rubber one’s a mallet,” Trey explained. “Both will work, but the mallet will sting less. Take your pick and bring it over so we can drive the stake into the ground.”

  Cooper looked back and forth as though this were a trick question, which would ruin their fun day if he got it wrong. Biting his lip, he settled on the mallet, then ran over to Trey, dragging the tool the entire way.

  “Good choice.” Cooper beamed at the praise. “And if you ever find yourself out in the middle of nowhere and forgot your tools, you know what you do?”

  Smile gone, concentration face on, Cooper shook his head.

  “You grab a big rock.”

  “You want me to grab a big rock?” Cooper asked, already scouting the backyard for the perfect rock.

  “Let’s use the mallet first.”

  He must lift all of those cases of wine he sells, Sara thought as Trey grabbed a stake and muscled it into the ground. Then he turned to Cooper and, instead of taking the tool and getting the job done quickly, Trey patiently explained how to properly hold the mallet and even steadied the stake while Cooper took a few swings—not a single one made contact.

  “Try holding it a little higher on the handle, like a baseball bat.”

  Cooper’s face fell, because he didn’t play baseball. Sara didn’t even think he owned a bat. She was about to step forward and explain when Trey moved behind her son and fixed his grip, doing the first swing in tandem. The mallet made solid contact and Cooper looked up at Trey stunned. Then a big smile spread across his face.

  “See how that felt?” Trey took a step back. “Now, you try.”

  Cooper did. And the thud of the contact threw him a little off balance. Not that he noticed, not with the way Trey gave him a big manly fist bump as though he’d single-handedly driven the stake through the earth with one swing.

  Sara swallowed, so overcome by the wonder of her little guy having fun and bonding with such an amazing man, she decided to not focus on the fact that Trey was leaving. At least not for today. Because right here, right now, Trey was exactly what her son needed.

  He was also what she needed, her heart whispered.

  They made quick work of the other stakes and Trey helped Cooper thread the rope through the top of the tent and, after a thorough lesson in square knots, they secured it to each of the
poles.

  “Hey guys,” she said, leaning over the rail.

  Cooper looked up and his eyes went wide. “Mommy! Look! We’re making a tent.”

  “I see that,” she said right as Cooper launched himself up the three steps to the porch and into her arms, clinging to her legs like a koala. She gave him a squeeze, only he was already wiggling back to the ground.

  “And I malleted the stake into the ground and even tied the rope with square knots, just like the ones for my merit badge test. And we’re going to do pretend campouts in the tent, like boot camp.”

  “Boot camp?” Sara looked at Trey whose gaze, dark and heated, tracked right to her skirt, and a shot of hot need pulsed through her body.

  Sara had been so excited for the unexpected night off that she hadn’t bothered to change before closing up the studio. Or at least that’s what she’d told herself. That wearing it home had nothing to do with the fact that, earlier that morning in the studio, Trey had slowly peeled it off her body—with his teeth.

  Trey cleared his throat and made his way up the steps toward her. He was all bare-chested and sweaty. It was hard for her to focus.

  “I was talking to Coop about the campout and he said he had never slept in a tent, so I figured that he and I could set one up and for the rest of the week, take naps in it.” Trey shrugged. “You know, test it out.”

  “Trey said that even soldiers do a test run so that they don’t get to the base and have the other soldiers make fun of them cuz they don’t know how to make a tent.” Cooper tugged at his ball cap.

  “That was smart.” And thoughtful. And so incredibly insightful. Sara felt herself fall a little more in like with him.

  “And look.” Cooper yanked at the bottom of his shirt and pulled it snug.

  “Team Bro,” Sara read, her eyes rising to meet Trey’s, and something much more than desire hummed between them. Something warmer, and gentler, and—

  Something that was not going to happen, Sara told herself. So what if he was funny and made her legs turn to mush? They’d made a deal. And when that calendar page changed, he’d be gone, off on another adventure that didn’t include her. Or Cooper.

  Stay strong.

  “Uh-huh,” Cooper went on. “You know like Team Brady or Team Lock, only since we don’t got the same last name and we’re best bros, Trey had them say this. And look.” Cooper turned around and pointed to a mission statement written on the back. “‘A unit based on friendship, fast cars, and juice boxes.’ And we’re going to wear them every day at camp.”

  Yeah, so much for staying strong.

  “Why don’t you go get washed up and throw on your jammies? I was thinking we’ll eat dinner while watching a movie.” Sara tugged the bill of Cooper’s hat up to see his face. “I brought home pizza.”

  “Pizza?” Cooper hooted. “Did you know Trey’s moving to Italy? They invented pizza and the Ferrari. And he’s going to go to the factory and send me pictures. Isn’t that awesome?”

  “Awesome,” Sara repeated what was fast becoming his favorite word. He used it in reference to dinners that lacked green, when his favorite show came on, and almost every time he talked about Trey. And Sara would have to agree, Trey was pretty awesome. “Actually, why don’t you wash up then bring the pizza out here and we can all eat in the tent?”

  “You sure?” Trey said, sending a pointed glance at Cooper, who was already hustling through the back door. “I can just order room service when I get back.”

  “Please stay.”

  Trey groaned and looked up at the sky. She knew he wanted to stay, just like she knew that if he did, things could get real messy, real fast. Which was why he was fussing with his hat and looking perplexed.

  She rose up on her toes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

  “What was that for?”

  “For making my kid feel,” she smiled up at him, “awesome. And for making everything okay. No, better than okay.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “And for putting him first.”

  “We put up a tent.” He shrugged self-consciously and Sara found it odd that for such a confident—often bordering on cocky—man, Trey had a hard time taking a genuine compliment.

  “It wasn’t what you did. It was how you did it. You included him, made him a part of the process, made him one of your pals.”

  “Coop was scared that the guys were going to laugh at him because he’d never been camping, and I know how bad it is to be the smallest or the youngest or the odd man out.”

  “I imagine it was hard being the youngest in such a large family with so many boys.” It would have been exceptionally hard after they lost their parents.

  “Sometimes it was great,” he explained, taking her hand. “There was always someone older to help me out. But other times…Man, it sucked being the baby.”

  “You wanted to prove that you could hold your own?”

  He met her gaze. “I wanted to prove that I belonged.”

  Which explained so much.

  He tilted her hand so it faced palm up and absently traced the patterns. “I remember the first time I was old enough to go camping with my dad and brothers, I was so nervous that I would screw up or get scared at night that I wanted to throw up the entire ride, but I would have rather died than let my brothers know. Or my dad.”

  He looked up again and there it was, that boyish grin that Sara loved.

  “He figured it out as soon as we got to the campsite. He sent my brothers to collect firewood and showed me how to set up a tent. By the time my brothers got back, all the tents were up and my dad said that since I set up camp, I got to sleep with him. And hold the special flashlight.”

  “What made it special?”

  “My dad said it was.”

  “Is that the tent?” She nodded toward the yard.

  “Yeah. I found it when I was looking through ChiChi’s garage for my sleeping bag. I didn’t find my sleeping bag, but came across the old tent. I told Coop he could have it after the campout, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Won’t you need it?”

  “I haven’t gone camping since,” he cleared his throat, “my parents died.”

  Sara bet that there were a lot of things that he stopped doing, stopped feeling, after his parents died. And maybe, like her, all he needed was someone to remind him what it felt like to live.

  “Want to give me a tour?” she asked, stepping closer, and for the first time, feeling closer to knowing the real man beneath all of that guilt and drive.

  “What I want is you,” he said, bringing her fingers up to his mouth to take a little nibble. “But I promised not to make this harder on you, and if we go into that tent—”

  He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Cooper was in the house washing up. Trey was still in his glorious half-naked state, which worked for her. The tent—she peeked over his shoulder—had a zipper. And because she had a pretty good idea of what he would do once they got there, but wanted to be certain that his ideas matched up with hers, she said, “And I want to see the tent that a little Trey conquered.”

  Trey went very still. “But Coop—”

  “I know, it will have to be a quick,” she smiled when his eyes went heavy, “tour.”

  “You sure?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Then with a growl that made her nipples hard, Trey took her by the hand and dragged her to the tent. He went in first, giving her a spectacular, up-close-and-personal view of his fine ass when he bent over to fit his massive body through the tiny hole, which was followed by an even more intimate get-to-know-you with his abs when he yanked her inside and turned around.

  Neither spoke as she zipped closed the flap. But the air between them caught fire as they stared at one another, him silently daring her to make the first move. She was on her knees, he was on his butt, and she was going to break h
er own rule. The no-kissing-in-the-house rule. Although, technically they were in the yard, not the house. And Cooper would be at least another five minutes since he’d have to shimmy into his pajamas.

  She looked around the tight quarters and then at Trey, amazed that such a small space could contain that much male perfection. “I think we should add this to the bucket list. You can teach me how to pitch a tent and then we can spend the night admiring my handiwork.”

  “Come here.”

  He reached out and hauled her against him, so tight she had the choice of straddling him or falling over. And since straddling him had been on her mind ever since their pole-dancing lesson, and it would give her hands a chance to explore his abs, she figured it was her lucky day.

  She meant to tell him that, only he was already kissing her. Hard and potent, and by the time he lifted his head Sara’s whole world was spinning. Her lungs were burning. And her hands were gliding along his six-pack to his flat stomach—on a collision course with a really bad idea.

  His hands, however, were moving north, going a long way toward making this the best camping trip ever.

  “What exactly would your entry on the bucket list entail?” he said.

  More of that. Through the thin cotton of her shirt his hot hands finally arrived, making her nipples hard and sending shivers across her entire body.

  “I don’t know,” she breathed, her fingers getting into the spirit. Yep, he definitely hand-carried his client’s orders. “I have some ideas, but I need another minute for them to solidify.”

  “Take your time,” he said and then that talented mouth was against her neck, his teeth gently raking down to her shoulder. “I’ve been solidified since I walked out of your studio this morning.”

  She was about to melt into him and forget that this was an adventure, forget that he was temporary, and forget that she wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

  “Mommy, I can’t find my Batman undies.”

  Trey pulled back and they were both breathing heavy. She looked down at the bulge in his jeans and smiled. “I think I already got the tent-pitching part down.”