by Tessa Layne
Jamey covered her mouth. “That’s it. Isn’t it? You kissed him, didn’t you? Well?” She bounced with excitement.
Millie pressed her lips together and shook her head. “He’s not my type.” The man she’d been waiting her whole life for, the one she’d dreamed would rock her world with only a kiss, was supposed to be a poet. In touch with his feelings. Willing to work the land with her and be her partner in life, not scoff at her ideas and judge her based on what other people said, and worse, his own misguided opinions. And the love of her life certainly wasn’t supposed to be a hardened, grumpy warrior with his heart tied in knots.
But still… that kiss. Her toes curled at the memory.
She swore the universe had trembled, that the stars had beamed down their approval in broad daylight.
“You’ve always said you can’t control where true love hits, Millie.” Jamey teased.
“I… I…” She shook her head. “Nothing happened.” She was such a liar.
CHAPTER 4
The crowd cheered as the K-State orchestra conductor took a final bow. In the grass off-stage, Jason stood watch next to Sterling. Fortunately, the audience was pretty tame, because he was doing a piss-poor job of helping with crowd control. His eyes kept drifting to where Millie sat halfway back with two of the Sinclaire brothers’ wives. He’d been aware of her the second she’d arrived, honing in on her light blonde curls as if they were a beacon.
“Dude, what is wrong with you?” Sterling nudged him. “You’ve been staring at Millie all evening.”
Great. The last thing he needed was Sterling riding his ass. “I was kind of a dick this morning.”
“So I figured.” Sterling’s mouth quirked. “The big, wise man gets taken to the mat by a tiny hippie. I love it.”
“Shut-up.”
Sterling snorted. “After all the Dr. Phil advice you’ve dispensed over the years? Hell, no. Johnny’d expect no less of me.”
Johnny.
Jason’s gut twisted. The only one of their fearsome threesome to have fallen head over heels in an instant, their last year at West Point. He’d had it all. The wife, the daughter, the white picket fence. And then killed himself just before Christmas.
Jason blew out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I suppose Johnny’d have a thing or two to say.” Johnny’d been shameless about his feelings for Macey from the get-go, something Jason had reminded Sterling about just recently.
“Last call for the silent auction. Volunteers will be collecting sheets in two minutes,” Travis Kincaid announced from the stage.
Across the lawn, Millie stood. Jason would bet the twenty in his pocket she was going to check on her basket. This was his chance to apologize. “I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for Sterling to comment, he took off at an angle, hoping to intercept her before she reached the auction tables. He followed at a distance, waiting for the right moment to catch her attention. She stopped and bent to study the sheet. The slump of her shoulders as she turned away told him all he needed to know. The knot in his chest squeezed. He knew that kind of disappointment. He worked his way down the row, stopping at her basket. Just as he suspected. Not one offer. The volunteers were getting closer, collecting the bid sheets. He bent and scrawled his number halfway down the sheet. What was a few hundred dollars out of his pocket for a good cause? He could send the basket to Johnny’s widow, Macey and her daughter. They’d get a kick out of it. And he could go to bed tonight with his conscience a little lighter.
He should go find her, do more than ease his conscience with a pity purchase. His mouth still burned from the sensation of their kiss. But if he followed her, what then? Another kiss, or more? Then what? The future rolled out in front of his eyes. Either she’d learn his family name and suck up to him like all the socialites at the club, until it came time for things to get real. Or, worse, his family would sink their claws into her, somehow find a way to use a woman as leverage to chain him to the family business. They’d done it before, what was to stop them from doing it again? But he was smarter now, too jaded, even. He was done being used. Best to leave Millie to her own devices.
Once free from the tables, Jason searched the crowd, but Millie had disappeared. It was for the best, but why did he feel just the tiniest bit disappointed? Because if it was offered, his dick reminded him, he’d take another kiss like the last.
Shaking his head, he turned and headed back to his post just off-stage. When he arrived, Sterling stood talking to Millie. Damn. “Jase, you remember Millie from this morning?”
His smirk said it all.
Jason gave them both a tight smile. “Nice to see you again.”
Sterling raised an eyebrow. “Millie was getting ready to let me taste her wine.”
And? He made a noncommittal grunt. Sterling’s motives were completely transparent, and he wasn’t going to play along. Not for love or money.
Sterling turned back to Millie. “I’ve got to get back to work, but I’m sure Jason would be happy to taste your wine.”
Fucker. “I… ah… well, yeah. Sure.” Jeeze, he sounded like a total douchebag. “I’d be happy to.” He forced a smile.
Millie turned her enormous eyes his direction. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “I can see you’re busy.”
Yeah. Total. Douchebag. He glanced at Sterling, whose eyes danced with glee. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine all matter of evil payback. But his gaze tangled with Millie’s and before he could stop himself, he shook his head. “Not busy at all. Happy to have a taste.”
Her face lit. “Really? I have a couple bottles with me.”
His stomach lurched, and he had the distinct sensation of free-falling. He was playing a dangerous game with himself where Millie Prescott was concerned. He fought to bring his thoughts back to his brain, where they belonged. But his cock twitched happily in his shorts. “Why don’t we go sit down?” He placed a hand at the small of her back, pulse jumping at the contact. They made their way through the backstage area, but instead of grabbing a seat at one of the picnic tables they’d spread out for the musicians, he led her away from the crowd, over the rise and toward the pond beyond the cabins.
Maybe if they kept walking, he could postpone the inevitable. Because right now, the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her again had every muscle in his body primed and ready to take action. But kissing her again would be a mistake.
“You don’t have to, you know,” she said in a small voice.
Kiss her? Oh yes, he did, his cock answered loudly. “I behaved badly this morning. I’m sorry.” Where the hell did that come from?
“I…” she took a deep breath and stopped, turning to him. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have kissed you. That was… too forward.”
Even in the fading light, he could see the blush that stained her skin. “I liked it.” He gulped, chest pulling tight at the bald statement. He couldn’t think straight around her. Her heady scent dizzied him like too much wine. And for some stupid reason, he couldn’t get enough of it.
She chewed on her lower lip as she studied him intently, a hint of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth. Damn if he didn’t want to kiss that corner. And the pulse fluttering wildly at the base of her neck. She pulled in a shallow breath, chest rising and drawing his attention down to her curvier parts. “Let’s find a place to sit.” She turned and kept walking.
He quickly caught up with her, hand coming to rest at the small of her back again, in case she stumbled. Because she was the one in danger of stumbling, the voice in his head mocked.
When she spoke again, there was a breathy quality to her voice that went straight to his cock. “It’s been years since I’ve been out here, but I think on the far side of the pond, there’s an outcropping of rocks.” She giggled. “We used to put our clothes out on the rocks when we went skinny-dipping.”
“Skinny-dipping,” he echoed through a tight throat, all-too-vivid pictures of a naked Millie bouncing through his mind. They skirted the pond in silence – he
didn’t trust himself to speak – pausing when they came upon an outcropping of rocks on the far side, just as she’d recalled.
Millie stopped and turned, still clutching her large macramé bag and stared up at him, hope written all over her expression. “Are you sure you’re up for a taste? It’s not too late to go back.”
Her words acted like cold water. He couldn’t afford to think with his dick. Maybe if he’d been thinking with his brain last time, he wouldn’t have ended up with his heart as shredded as his leg. The rejection hovered on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t do wine anymore. But one look at those big blue eyes, staring at him with such eager expectation, and his resolve melted. What would it hurt to try a little of her wine? He could choke down a glass. Give her a little free advice and send her on her way, like the Grinch and Cindy-Lou Who. Once the work at the ranch began in earnest, it would be easy enough to avoid her. Easier still, to forget the feel of her pressed against him, mouth warm and inviting. And above all, he had to forget that.
He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
The smile she gave him made his chest feel funny, made his skin prickle. She had no business looking at him like he’d just given her the moon. She pulled out a bottle and dropped to the ground, settling herself against a large flat rock that acted like the back of a chair. Fishing in her bag, she handed him two plastic cups, then with a triumphant noise, lifted up a bottle opener.
Jason fought the beginnings of a smile. No woman should be that adorable. He fixated on her hands as she worked the bottle, so tiny and delicate, fluttering like a hummingbird. In an instant, his mind filled with thoughts of her hands fluttering over his body, driving him out of his mind. Again, the stirrings of desire awakened deep within him. Taken by surprise at his body’s reaction to her, he missed what she said. She was staring at him expectantly, obviously waiting for an answer. “Sorry?”
“I wanted to introduce myself, properly. Before you taste my wine.” She stuck out her hand, and without thinking, he took it, starting at the shock of electricity that burned up his arm. Her hand was tiny in his, like a child’s. And he couldn’t stop caressing the satiny skin between her thumb and forefinger. Touching her calmed him. Eased the ever-present knot in his sternum.
Panic clawed at his chest. What was he doing anywhere near this little bit of a thing who seemed to peer into his soul every time they made eye contact? He should go back to the concert. Make himself useful and stay far away from Millie and whatever magic pixie dust seemed to float in the air around her.
“I’m Millie Prescott,” she continued. “You were in my organic grocery this morning. My dad and I run Moonbeam Acres.”
His mouth quirked. “Moonbeam Acres?”
She sat a little taller. “Yes. Moonbeam is my middle name.”
No fucking way. Millie Moonbeam Prescott? “Lemme guess. You were conceived in a field under the light of the moon while your parents camped out of their VW Bus.”
“A full moon. It enhances a person’s life force and aids in fertility. My mother had difficulty conceiving.” She shrugged and gave him a shy smile. “I guess you could say I was their midnight miracle.”
He cocked his head as he stared at her in wonder. Was she for real? Who talked like this anymore? He could just imagine the horrified looks on his step-mother and brother’s faces if he ever brought her home. Would serve them right if he did. “What else should I know about you, Millie?” he murmured, drawn to the hopeful look in her eye. Why did she keep looking at him like that? His heart thumped erratically as he dropped his gaze to her mouth, suddenly hit with the urge to kiss her again. Over and over until he forgot who he was, until he forgot there was anything wrong with him. It made no sense.
She held up a glass, cloudy pink and fizzing enthusiastically, just like her. “Try my wine and you’ll discover everything you need to know.”
CHAPTER 5
Millie couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts bounced around like a pinball machine as she held out the cup. Jason had stared at her like he wanted to kiss her, and it had taken all her self-control to not fall into his arms when he spoke. A shiver rippled down her spine. The man’s voice was deep and smoky, charred like the inside of an oak barrel. And the vibrations went straight to her pussy, sending tendrils of sensation through her body until every nerve quivered with anticipation. A word from him, and she was some kind of a zombie, body taking over rational thought. Why else would she have suggested the pond?
Jason Case was the wrong kind of person for her, no matter what her libido thought. For once, her heart was wrong. It had to be. “Cheers,” she said brightly and touched her cup to his. Their fingers brushed, and the shock was so strong, her arm felt like it had been set on fire. And her nipples and her pussy. Holy smokes, she was going to burst into flames and combust on the spot.
“It’s a Pét-Nat – pétillant naturel. It means naturally sparkling.” She was babbling. He came from one of the biggest wine families in the country. He probably already knew that and so, so much more. Her heart flopped to her knees. “This came from our cabernet franc grapes.” She hesitated. She’d probably said too much already. Better to let him taste it and pass judgment. But what if he hated it? She poured her heart and soul into each grape, each bottle.
Amusement flickered across his face as he examined the wine. “I can see,” he murmured.
No man should be that devastatingly handsome. Broad through the chest, arms of steel, washboard abs, twinkling gray eyes, and a face chiseled like a Rodin statue. She had to look away.
“Let’s have a taste,” he said, tilting the cup and examining the contents.
Oh, mercy, yes, please. Her body vibrated like he was a magnet, pulling at her. Millie swallowed. If she didn’t exercise a little self-control, she’d end up smashed against him, kissing him with everything she had. She could feel it. She’d never felt this torn before. With past lovers, not that there had been many, her heart and body had always been in alignment, and when the affair ran its course, they’d parted as friends. No one hurting, no one broken hearted. And they would be lovers, she could feel it. Her instincts had never been wrong. But Jason Case was dangerous.
Mr. Sexy and Dangerous cleared his throat, setting her pussy tingling. “Millie?”
Even the way he said her name made her weak in the knees.
“Everything okay?” He leaned in, eyes filled with concern. So close, she could smell the spicy masculine scent of him. “You’re looking at me funny.”
She dragged in a deep breath and flashed him a smile. “Everything’s great.” At least until she started chattering like a ninny. “Bottoms up.” She raised her glass then took a sip. The familiar bite of bubbles burst on her tongue. At least this bottle wasn’t funky. There was always a moment of terror when someone tasted her wine. What if they hated it? Over the last two years, she’d learned to steel herself against their platitudes of delight. It wasn’t the best wine. Even she could tell, but it had come from her heart and soul, and surely that mattered? Impacted the taste in some positive way?
Jason tipped back his head, throat bobbing as he swallowed the wine, face tight with concentration. Millie’s stomach lurched. What if he hated it? Worse, what if he laughed at her for even trying? She blinked hard, eyeballs prickling. He took another long sip, holding the wine in his mouth before swallowing. Then he smacked his lips and shot her a grin. “Not bad.”
“Really?” She bounced in her excitement, nearly upending the contents of her glass.
He nodded. “Better than I expected.”
Warmth spread across her chest. She’d take better than expected any day. “Do you think it’s the kind of wine people could fall in love over?” she gushed, imagination getting the best of her.
He looked at her, a strange expression crossing his face, and after a long moment, shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”
“You really think so?” She sighed, lost in a vision of possibilities. “I’d just love to get an email from a couple someday, telling me
they discovered my wine on a romantic trip to the Flint Hills, and that while they were drinking it under the stars, they realized they were in love.” She drained her cup and set it down. Looping her hands across her shins, she stared up, searching for the first signs of starlight.
Next to her, Jason cleared his throat. They spoke at the same time.
“Would you like some more?” “Do you have anything to eat?”
Millie let out a nervous giggle. “You first.”
“Do you have any food with you? I’d like to try this with food.”
“I have some leftover baked tofu and sesame noodles.”
He made a dismissive grunt. “Any sausage? Or cheese?”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
Silence loomed between them as he digested that bit of information. Shaking his head, he gave her a wry smile. “You really are a hippie, aren’t you?”
Millie stiffened. “Just because I choose to eat gently, doesn’t mean I’m a hippie.”
“What does it mean, then?”
“That I’m making a conscious decision to help take care of our planet.”
“Sounds like a hippie to me,” he scoffed.
She rolled her eyes, shaking off the annoyance that crawled up her spine. “You come from a grape growing family, and California’s been in a severe drought for years, how can you not be worried about this?” She could see him chewing on that, but she had to press her point. “Okay, here are just some of the facts. It takes 149 million acres of cropland, 167 million pounds of pesticides and 17 billion pounds of nitrogen fertilizer to grow feed for the U.S. livestock industry.” She let that sink in for a moment, excitement rising. Truth be told, she geeked out on numbers like this. “And that reduces our access to fresh water, not to mention polluting what water we have.”
He shook his head, a smile flirting at the corners of his mouth. “But that has nothing to do with growing good grapes.”