Be Mine Forever (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel)

by Adair, Marina

  “But my dahlias!”

  Rodney at least had the decency to look apologetic, but the truck didn’t stop, not until it had torn up a good half of her lawn and smashed every last bloom in her garden. Then the beeping became more alarming and the open flatbed of the truck lifted and that was when Abby knew that Richard was a complete bastard.

  Before she could say a word or throw herself in front of the oncoming disaster that was quickly becoming her life, an Adonis-inspired statue slid down the ramp of the truck, landing gracefully on her lawn with a small thud.

  “Oh my,” Nora sighed with an expression of sheer appreciation. “Isn’t that an eyeful?”

  Eyeful indeed. Standing well over six feet tall and, except for the embellished bulge and generous amount of hair, the marble statue was a spot-on replica of her ex. Even down to the smarmy smile and trademarked wink.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Rodney said, making Abby realize that she was staring.

  “I’ll say.” Nora started fanning herself and a series of impressed grunts came from the two men who exited the delivery truck to take in the sight.

  “He wasn’t that big,” Abby felt the need to point out, then realized how that sounded and clarified. “Tall. I meant that he wasn’t that tall. The man was only five ten. With lifts.”

  Looking extremely satisfied with himself, Rodney extended a pen and a clipboard. “I need you to sign here, here, and here.”

  “And I need you to remove that”—Abby waved a hand at the statue—“monstrosity, before I call the cops.”

  “No can do.” Rodney rocked back on his heels. “I got paid for a delivery. It’s been delivered.”

  “Then I’ll pay you to deliver it somewhere else.”

  Mulling over her request, Rodney sized up Abby, then took his time sizing up the statue, finally shaking his head in pure-male awe. “You sure? It’s a statement maker. Really brings out the character of your yard.”

  “My yard has plenty of character and that is not the kind of statement I want to be making.”

  “Plus it’s in violation of GN Code 27C,” Nora explained. “Garden art can’t be more than three feet tall with a base not exceeding half the height, unless it has a water element to it, and then you must get board approval of the fixture.”

  “Oh, it’s got a water feature all right,” Rodney explained ever so seriously, resting his hand on Richard’s shoulder. “All Mrs. Moretti’s got to do is run a water line to the base and then water shoots out his—”

  “There will be no shooting,” Abby insisted, her right eye beginning to twitch. “And it’s not staying. In fact, I will pay you to deliver it back to where it came from.”

  She was tired of being manipulated by men. There was no way she’d let Richard weasel his way into her life—not again. She wasn’t that lost, heartbroken college student anymore. She was a successful, independent, man-free woman who was in charge of her own destiny and—

  Oh. My. God. Abby froze at the sight of a real-life Adonis pounding the pavement—pavement that happened to be covered in her Neighborhood Watch territory. Moving with a confidence and masculine grace that was far too natural to be manufactured, Abby had no doubt that Jack “Hard Hammer” Tanner was 100 percent unadulterated male perfection—no embellishment needed.

  At six feet five and two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, Jack Tanner was a mountain of testosterone and sculpted male perfection. He was sporting a pair of black jogging shorts slung low on his hips, a San Francisco 49ers ball cap, and matching T-shirt, which—sweet baby Jesus—dangled from his waistband instead of covering his chest, leaving miles of tan torso that made her mouth dry and her palms wet.

  Which was why she sagged with relief at the sight of him jogging down the cul-de-sac and past her house.

  Her premature celebration ended when, as though her morning wasn’t complicated enough, Tanner’s footsteps slowed as he passed her lawn and, without warning, abruptly retraced his steps, coming to a stop at the curb of her driveway. He took in Shrine de Richard, then his gaze drifted to Abby, pinning her with an amused look before releasing a lethal smile that left more than just her hands wet.

  Another in a long list of reasons to stay away from him.

  “Before we can talk terms,” Rodney said, and Abby had to strain to understand him over the blood pounding in her ears, “we have to close out this transaction.”

  “Fine.” Abby grabbed the clipboard and scribbled her name. A here, here, and here later, she was one step closer to eliminating Richard from her life, and it gave her something to do besides gawk at the way Tanner’s muscles played as he jogged up the driveway—straight toward her.

  Rodney took the clipboard. “I can get your package—”

  “It’s not my package,” she clarified as Tanner strode up. He didn’t talk, just silently situated himself way too close for her to ignore. But she did her damnedest.

  “That signature there says it is,” Rodney reminded her, his meaty finger stabbing at her signature scrawled on the delivery slip. Then he flipped the page and wrote up a new delivery form and handed it to her. “Now, if you want to hire me to ship it back, then that’s going to cost you nineteen-oh-four, with tax.”

  “Fine. I’ll go get my purse.”

  “We don’t take checks.”

  “I have cash,” she said.

  “I don’t know if I feel comfortable carrying that much money around on my person,” Rodney said, running a greasy hand down the front of his coveralls.

  At his comment, Abby looked at the total he’d scribbled on the paper and felt her heart plummet straight to her toes. “You’re going to charge me two grand to return a statue that isn’t even mine?”

  “You signed for it so it’s—”

  “Mine. Yeah, yeah,” Abby mumbled. “But two grand?”

  “You see the size of him,” Rodney said, his eyes straying back to Richard’s package.

  “He wasn’t that big!”

  “Need any help?” Tanner offered sweetly from beside her. She could feel him staring, feel his amusement pressing down on her.

  “Nope, I’ve got it.” Abby squared her shoulders and signed the form.

  Last year, she’d set out to get herself a divorce and living arrangements that didn’t include her childhood bed or her nonna as a roommate. Check. And check. This year, she was determined to prove to this town—and herself—that she could stand on her own two feet. Starting today.

  And that didn’t include a man.

  “Do you take credit cards?” Abby asked, the twitching behind her eye now encompassing the entire front lobe of her head.

  “Yup. Let me call the station and make arrangements.” Rodney disappeared into the cab of his truck, leaving Abby alone with Tanner.

  “I got to hand it to you, if that’s your solution to ward off would-be suitors, it’s working, darling.” The way he said darling, low and husky, felt like an intimate caress. Too bad he was staring at Richard’s over-embellished ego. “It’s enough to give most guys a complex.”

  “You intimidated, Jack?” she asked, pulling her robe even tighter.

  “Nope.”

  Of course he wasn’t. The man was far too capable and accomplished to give into anything as silly as intimidation. Most people admired that about Tanner. Abby just found it annoying.

  Almost as annoying as the way her heart picked up as Tanner’s gaze took a lazy journey down her body. She resisted the urge to smooth down her hair, just like she resisted the urge to kick him in the shin, when his gaze reached her feet and he chuckled. She didn’t need to look down to realize that she was wearing her Godzilla slippers—they were big, green, badass, and growled every time she walked.

  “And I’m not just any guy,” he said, leaning in until she could smell the clean sweat and male perfection wafting off of him. “I’m a Hall of Famer.
”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “For most pass receptions in the NFL.”

  “Yup, that too.” His lips twitched and so did her thighs.

  “What are you doing here?” Because this could not be happening. Today was supposed to be the start of her new life. And she didn’t want to begin it with an eerily lifelike replica of the man who had broken her heart, her confidence, and the bank when he absconded with twelve million of the town people’s dollars. Not to mention staring down the man who’d taken her virginity and something so much more valuable—her ability to trust.

  “Darling, half the town is here.” He pointed to the curb, and sure enough every neighbor was on their lawn—or hers. She waved. “When Richard came up Main Street it was as though he was Jesus, walking on water and people just started following him. I saw your grandma making the sign of the cross as she hobbled out of the Sweet and Savory to watch the procession. She’ll be here any minute.”

  Great.

  “So you came to watch the show?”

  “Nope,” he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and heat curled low in her stomach. “I came to see if you wanted to go grab a bite to eat. The show’s just a bonus.”

  “You already asked me out on a date. I said no.” Although she’d wanted to say yes. Not to the date part, she’d always hated dating. But to the good-night kiss part that usually followed said date. And maybe even to what naturally followed the kiss.

  “You said you were still a married woman, so I backed off.” He smiled. “You’re single now, so the question is still on the table.”

  “She’s not divorced,” Rodney hollered over the hood of the car, informing everyone in a three-block radius.

  Nora pulled out her phone and began filming.

  Abby felt everything inside of her still. “Excuse me?”

  “That there isn’t just a piece of masterful art carved from a rare marble found only in remote parts of Italy. It’s a vessel,” Rodney said, pointing to the vase in the statue’s hand and taking in a moment of silence. “I’m sorry to inform you, Mrs. Moretti, but your husband, Richard Moretti, passed away three months ago, long before that there divorce decree was signed. And as his wife, you are the sole heir to all of his assets.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to my editors Maria Gomez and Lindsay Guzzardo, and the rest of the author team at Montlake, for all of the amazing work and support throughout this series.

  As always, a special thanks to my fabulous agent, Jill Marsal, for agreeing to take this awesome journey with me. To my constant cheerleaders and plot buddies: Hannah Jayne, Jacee James, Diana Orgain, and Marni Bates. You girls keep me going! And to Jessica Beane and Brittney for sharing your awesomely funny and incredibly sweet mommy stories, and helping me understand the world of little boys.

  Finally, and most important, thanks to my daughter, Thuy, and my amazing husband, Rocco. You guys are my rock.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PHOTO BY TOSH TANAKA

  Marina Adair is a #1 national best-selling author of romance novels. Along with the St. Helena Vineyard series, she is also the author of Sugar’s Twice as Sweet, part of the Sugar, Georgia series. She lives with her husband, daughter, and three neurotic cats in Northern California.