Up to Me (Shore Secrets)

by Christi Barth

  “Well?” he asked, impatience snipping the word harshly.

  Aha. So Gray was curious. It’d be fun to draw this out a bit. Keep him guessing. Ella tilted the journal away from him. “Apparently you took the last Irish cream brownie at Cosgrove’s two days ago. Snatched it right out from under Hank Mitchell. So he’s pretty steamed at you. Thinks you’re too selfish to date any woman, let alone me.”

  “Seriously?” He plowed his hand through his dark hair. “It’s not like the man tried to wrestle me for it. I was ahead of him in line.”

  “Small towns can lead to deep grudges,” she intoned solemnly.

  A wince. One that made her regret her offhand comment. “Don’t I know it.”

  It wouldn’t be good to make him spiral back through memories of his horrible hometown. She’d stop teasing and get this date back on track. “The good news is that Hank’s in the minority. Overall the town is in favor of both me dating in general, as well as me dating you, specifically.”

  “Whew. You had me sweating it there for a minute.” Gray whipped out a handkerchief and pretended to mop his brow. “I need an ego boost. Show me one of the good ones.”

  Before she could stop him, he’d pulled the journal onto his lap and started reading. It didn’t take long for his brow to furrow. “These aren’t all about us dating. There’s more than a dozen complaints in here about your moving the party.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Exactly why Ella hadn’t wanted him to look. This was also not a light-hearted, sexy or fun first-date topic. All they needed now was a raincloud to open up directly above them. Maybe the whole of idea of trying to capture the magic of a first date after fourteen—because of course she’d been counting every breakfast, dinner, yoga and smooching encounter they’d shared—almost nonstop, official not-dates was stupid. Impossible.

  Now they knew each other. Ella and Gray had spent more actual time together than most new couples did in six weeks. They’d started off by sharing deep, dark secrets. By baring their fears and inner demons. And they’d tantalizingly, almost had sex. The fizzy effervescence of a first date was like the swirl of vapor that escaped from a champagne bottle when the cork popped. Gone in an instant.

  He stabbed a finger at the thick paper. “They’re really up in arms about this. Leona Miller called you an upstart little twit.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” So now, instead of trying to seduce her, Gray had slapped on his serious face. Was probably about to launch into a buck up, little camper type speech. So what if he rocked at them? Ella wanted—no, deserved—a night full of glances that tried to peer down her boosted-up cleavage. A night where they laughed, and laughed some more. A frothy night, not an angsty, issues-debating night.

  “I’m sorry, Ella.” His voice was low, earnest. The furrows in his brow seemed way too deep to be caused by a handful of pissed-off partygoers. Gray looked about two hundred percent more upset than she was. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re hurting.”

  His grim seriousness was the equivalent of dumping prune juice into her champagne. Nobody wanted that. She elbowed him in the ribs. “Geez, Gray, you didn’t do anything. This was my decision. Get over yourself.”

  A pause. Then he firmed his lips and tried again. “I don’t want your friends to be this mad at you.”

  “Don’t worry. My friends aren’t. My friendly acquaintances...well, that’s another story. People need to vent. If they get it all out in the pages of the journal instead of unloading on me at work? I’d call that a good thing.”

  “What about the name-caller?”

  “Leona Miller says nasty things behind everyone’s back to everyone else. We’re all used to it. But she also delivers meals, free of charge, to people who have a family member in hospice care. Says she got so used to cooking for her six sons that once they left, she just couldn’t stop. She’s got a heart as big as the lake. So we put up with her sniping.”

  “Sounds like it won’t be much of a party any more, though.”

  “Are you kidding?” She dragged the journal back onto her lap. Scanned the entries once more. “Every one of these people has already RSVP’d yes. I told you. They’re just venting. We’ll have a great party. A blowout, like last year and all the years before it.”

  He looked at her, confusion squinting his eyes. Then he gave a hoarse laugh and shook his head, turning to stare out at the lake. “This is an...unusual place you live in, Ella.”

  Maybe. But it was all she knew, so it just felt normal. It was home. “We’re like one big family. We might squabble, but deep down our affection never wavers.”

  “Like I said—unusual.”

  “How about we go back to the usual? The usual first-date stuff, that is.” Jumping up, she stuffed the journal back in the mailbox and slammed the door. She didn’t want him to hang out here any longer looking for responses to his job question. They could talk about that at dinner.

  “You mean the usual things like getting all nervous and tongue-tied around a pretty girl?” Gray teased as he took her hand and swung it between them while they walked back to the car.

  “Please. You’ve never been tongue-tied a day in your life. You’re so sure of yourself. You know exactly what you want. Exactly how to get it. I’ll bet you’re never at a loss for words.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Ella pondered that as they resumed their drive along the lake’s edge. The gentle roll of vineyards, of tied branches along twine, just leafing out fully, mimicked the up and down of her thoughts. Gray had divulged his big, life-changing secret to her. It hadn’t been a walk in the park, but he’d been able to spit it out. So what was left? What situation could possibly leave him speechless? Was there still a dark cloud of pain or uncertainty that he hadn’t shared with her? And if so, why not?

  Gray turned off the radio. Took her hand and slid his fingers through hers. “Let’s call the mailbox the overture. The Prologue. Batting practice. Our first date officially begins now.”

  Ella took in the massive red-tiled, Italianate building in front of them. “You brought me to a winery?”

  “That’s what the Finger Lakes is famous for, right?”

  Ah. So he had listened to her tour-guide-esque spiel about the area. Or maybe it was osmosis. Prattle on long enough, and at least a little is bound to sink in, right? “Sure. But we’ve got more than thirty wineries around Seneca Lake alone. Sixteen more around Keuka Lake and another twenty-three on Cayuga Lake. How on earth did you choose Ventosa Winery?”

  “I did my research.”

  Laughter gurgled out of her. Ella almost tripped stepping onto the sidewalk. “You mean you sampled an average of six varieties at all thirty-six wineries? Then moved on to the next lake? You must’ve had the mother of all hangovers for the last week.”

  One of his jet-black eyebrows arched up. Kind of matched his know-it-all sneer. “A good researcher doesn’t do all the legwork himself.”

  Nope. He was too cocky. And she saw right through him. “Let me guess. You asked Ward.”

  A sheepish shrug. “He knows the area.” Then, an assertive jut to his jaw. “He knows you, what you like. Ward said this is one of your favorite spots.”

  “It is. I celebrated my twenty-first birthday here. Had my very first legal glass of wine. My parents went overboard, of course. They put wine into every single course. Wine-soaked figs for an appetizer. Red-wine risotto with the entrée. And, of course, a raspberry and champagne soufflé.”

  “Does it make you sad to remember?”

  She stared at the stone pillars flanking the steps where her family had posed for pictures. All of them holding wine glasses etched with the number twenty-one in flowing script. Suddenly Ella wanted to go back to her parent’s house, dig through the cupboards and unearth those glasses.

  “No. It was a great night. I’m looking forward to making another mag
ical memory here with you, tonight.”

  Gray goggled at her as he opened the big glass door. “You want me to compete with the awesomeness of a twenty-first birthday party?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance as she whisked inside. “I think you’re a man who’ll rise to the occasion.”

  “Damn straight. Besides, what could be more romantic than sipping wine and ignoring the sunset over the lake because I’m staring at you?”

  Oh my. Just like that, the fizziness was back. Her heels clattered against the terra-cotta tiles as Gray led her straight through the large tasting room, threading through racks of wine bottles and past bistro tables crowded with swish-and-sippers, to the wide terrace. It overlooked a strip of the vineyard, and then looked west across Seneca Lake. The perfect sunset vantage point.

  He pulled out a black, wrought iron chair full of fanciful curlicues and seated her. Then she noticed their table was the only one with flowers. A dozen roses with white petals tipped in the same hot pink as her outfit speared out of a vase with a satin bow around its neck. And a single long-stemmed rose lay on the table. Gray picked it up and brushed it along her cheek.

  “The whole point of dating is getting to know each other. We may have been coming at it every which way but straight on—but the truth is that we’ve been dating since that first night on your stairs. Doesn’t matter what the town thinks. You know it and I know it.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Sneaking around is its own fun.” His dark eyebrows drew together into a frown. “Still, I know I’ve let you down.”

  Ella reached up to grab the hand holding the rose. “Gray, no. I’ve loved spending time with you.”

  “Right back at you, beautiful.” He dropped a kiss on the back of her hand, then twisted out of her grip. “But let me go on, okay? Men aren’t exactly known for admitting when they’re wrong. So you’d better savor this moment.”

  “Alright.” She gave a slow, princess half wave at him. “Continue to list the ways in which you’ve wronged me.”

  “Joke all you want. I’m dead serious. I’ve done nothing special for you so far.”

  Men could be so literal. So he hadn’t sent her flowers or given her chocolate. Gray had given her far, far greater gifts in their time together. Ella puffed out her cheeks with a slow sigh. “You’re right. You’ve only reignited my spirit and my independence. What a thoughtless slacker of a non-date you’ve been.”

  He softly batted the tip of her nose with the rose. “Pay attention. I’m semi-groveling here. We’ve spent all this time together, but I haven’t taken the time to treat you with the care you deserve. To make you feel special. Tonight, everything changes.”

  “Everything? You mean I should’ve worn the good underwear?”

  “Sweetheart, I’d prefer no underwear where you’re concerned.”

  It was a sexy thought. One that made her knees part just a little. Even though she’d just paid a ridiculous amount of money to overnight an order from Victoria’s Secret after their tryst beneath the waterfall.

  “But if you recall,” he continued, “tonight is our first date. I know you’re not the kind of woman who goes all the way on date number one.”

  True. At least, it had been true in the past. Didn’t mean it still held true. She’d already proven herself to be somewhat of a rule breaker when it came to Gray. “I’d make an exception for you.”

  His gaze heated up, as though she’d just put a match to his inner pilot light. Then he stroked the rose ever so slowly along the edge of her lower lip. “Good. Because I’m making one hell of an exception for you.”

  Before she could ask him what that cryptic statement referred to, a waiter appeared. There was a few minutes bustle of setting up a silver wine bucket by their table, the ritual of uncorking with a flourish the bottle with the pale green label and their signature logo of a tree blowing in the wind. Gray accepted the tasting pour. Swirled and sniffed it with an ease and confidence that proclaimed him no novice to wine tasting. At his nod, the waiter filled their glasses and left with promises to return soon to top them off.

  “This is a Pinot Gris. Something light to kick off the evening. Delicate in style, but with a flavor that’s lush with a hint of wildness. In other words, this wine is you, Ella.” Gray picked up his glass. Tilted it to catch the sun in the pale yellow liquid, so pale it matched not the rind, but the pith of a lemon. “I could toast to the start of something new. Or to our first official date. I could even be a cocksure son of a bitch, wink, and toast to our second official date.”

  Ella raised her glass. “How about we say all of the above?”

  “No. Those are all about us. Tonight’s all about you.” He raised his glass. “To an exceptional, and exceptionally beautiful, woman.” They clinked glasses, the sound round and full and clear, seeming to echo straight out over the lake.

  She took a quick sip, then another. The cool melon and peach flavors slipped down as smoothly as Gray’s compliments. A girl could get used to being treated so well. And then, in a flash, Ella remembered that she couldn’t get used to it at all. That her time with Gray came with a ticking clock, due to expire in all-too-few days. Casey and Piper had been right. She wasn’t in the market for a fling. Even now, the thought of him leaving clenched her stomach into a knot.

  Although...who’s to say they couldn’t keep seeing each other after his vacation ended? Or would that turn her into a horrible, clingy woman? The kind who were sure that their unique brand of caring could change their man. Reform his roaming ways. Or his sports addiction. Worse yet, those pathetic women who swore that given time, they could turn a newly gay man back to playing for the opposite team. Ella and her friends always had mocked those desperate, grabbing women. Pitied the men they’d set their sights on. Horror of horrors, was she turning into one of them?

  Could it really hurt, though, to find out a little more about Gray? That was the point of a first date. Sharing all the basic information they’d so blithely ignored over the past seven days. Maybe she’d discover he led a life conducive to long-distance romance. Or maybe they’d just share some wine and some laughs and check this damn date off the list so they could rip each other’s clothes off. Either way was a win in her book. At least, that’s what she had to keep telling herself.

  “I read a few other things in the journal tonight,” Ella said in a leading tone.

  Gray leaned back, kicked his long legs out in front and crossed them at the ankles. The picture of relaxation, aside from the downward slant to his eyebrows as he scowled at her. “Don’t start. I saw them, too. Suggestions on what we should do on our date. Everything from hiking the falls to bingo night at the lodge to a séance to get your parent’s blessing from the great beyond.”

  Right. If Ella thought the séance had a prayer of working, she’d hold one to ask how to save the Manor from this mystery buyer. She could handle Gray without anyone else’s help, dead or alive. “The séance gets extra points for the most original idea.”

  “No. Nobody gets points.” He spat out the word. “I’ve romanced women on the pink sand beaches of Oahu.” Gray thrust out his arm in what she assumed to be the direction of Hawaii. Then he crossed his body and pointed the opposite direction. “Danced with them in the Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center. I don’t need an entire town trying to micromanage this date. It’s intrusive.” Now he ticked off his points on one hand. “It’s insulting. And it’s damn annoying.”

  The man was utterly adorable when he ranted against the journal. And gesturing so much she worried he’d knock over his wine. “Didn’t you ask Ward for a recommendation on where to take me?”

  “Yes.” Gray stretched out the word, clearly wary of her talking him out of his tirade.

  “Just consider these unsolicited recommendations. No different at all. They want us to have a good time. They know you’re unfamiliar wit
h the area.”

  “If they know so much, they should know that I don’t want any help from the damn journal!” A couple at the closest table looked over, eyes wide at his raised voice.

  “Is that so?” Ella eased her foot out of one stiletto and ran it up and down Gray’s leg. Underneath his pants. Not necessarily to calm him down. Just to satisfy her own desire to touch him. To feel the crisp hairs of his calf against her arch. “What about the question you wrote in it? The one about your job? I didn’t tell you what to write. You pulled that out of the dark and snarly recesses of your subconscious all by yourself.”

  “You caught me in a weak moment. It was the first thing that came to mind.”

  “It leapt to mind because it’s bothering you.” The question he penned that day had struck her in its sadness. Here was a man who appeared successful. Who had enough money to blow on two weeks in the Marshgrass Suite. So why the career angst?

  “I’m also worried about global warming,” he tossed back flippantly. “I don’t expect the journal to magically solve my problem, or those of the rapidly vanishing ozone layer.”

  Wow. The man sure could dodge and weave when Ella tried to shift focus onto him. “Gray, I’m serious. God knows I’ve bared my soul to you, repeatedly. If the point of tonight is to get to know each other better, then this is what I want to know.”

  “Are you positive? This is the topic you want to use to kick-start our date? Because we’ve got a relaxed, sexy vibe going here.” Gray leaned forward. Stroked his fingers through her loose waves. “I could spend the evening telling you that you’re beautiful. That I wake up every morning eager to rush downstairs and see you at breakfast. How you fill my heart every time you laugh. That I fall asleep every night thinking about what it’ll feel like when I finally drive inside you.”

  As her chest slowly tightened, Ella realized she’d forgotten to breathe. “I see right through you. Did you really think you could distract me with all those pretty words?” Words that she’d already memorized. Words that made her wish she still kept a diary, so she could have the joy of tracing them out, letter by letter.