by Nicola Marsh
Silent tears trickled down her cheeks, making Jake’s heart ache for her pain. “I didn’t make it to the hospital in time. I didn’t have a chance to comfort my baby or hold her or do something . . .”
Her audible anguish made him hold her tighter. “And I’ve blamed myself every single day since for not being there when Lucy needed me most. Maybe if I’d been there she wouldn’t have—”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” he said, wishing he could do something, anything, to ease her pain. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”
“Is that what you tell yourself every day to get over the accident?”
It was a low blow and he was sure she hadn’t intended on it sounding so abrupt. But she had a point.
“Guilt eats away if you let it. Guess we both know that.”
She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. She fit perfectly into the crook of his arm and as they sat in silence, looking out over the moonlit vineyard, he wondered how on earth this felt so right when he’d only know this woman a short time.
“I’ve never told anyone all that,” she said, so softly he barely heard.
“Ditto for me.” He stroked her arm as she snuggled closer. “I think you’re incredible, Sara, and I value the bond we share.”
She looked up at him, her face inches away, her lips temptingly close.
“I feel the same way—”
He didn’t let her finish, crushing his mouth to hers. She tasted sweet and tart, a tantalizing combination he couldn’t get enough of as he devoured her.
She moaned as he eased her down on the blanket, the fervency of her kisses increasing as he smoothed her back, her hip, her ass.
Turned on to the point of pain, he rolled on top of her, savoring her gasp of awareness as he ground against her a little. When one of her legs wrapped around him, bringing her in tempting contact despite the clothing barriers, he had to remind himself where they were before he committed an indecent act in public.
Rolling back onto his side, he stopped kissing her with reluctance.
“Guess that answers the question of us being just friends,” she said, running a fingertip down his cheek, lingering near his mouth, tracing his bottom lip, as he resisted the urge to suck it into his mouth.
“Guess so.” He swooped in for another kiss, buoyed by her soft laughter as she gently shoved him away.
“But we take it slow, okay?” She eyeballed him and he glimpsed the remnants of fear.
“So that counts out a roll in the vineyard right now?”
Rather than push him away again, she fisted her hands in his T-shirt and shook him a little. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Tease,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth, wishing he could kiss her all over, all night.
In response, she jumped to her feet and dusted herself off. “Don’t forget, it’s been a long time for me.”
“Me too.” He kept a straight face with difficulty. “Does that mean if this ground is too hard, you’d be up for a little back seat action?”
“You’re pushing your luck.” Her laughter made his heart lighten. “Don’t make me regret this.”
He stood and snagged her hand. “I think we’ve both lived with regrets long enough.”
If his sudden deviation into seriousness surprised her, she didn’t show it.
“That’s why I’m doing this. So I don’t regret not taking a chance on us and having yet another thing to lament when you leave.” She squeezed his hand. “I think it’s worth the risk. You’re worth the risk.”
Crap, she had mammoth expectations of him. He hoped he’d never let her down.
“Right back at you,” he said, defusing the tension with levity, but unable to shake the niggle of misgiving all the way home.
Was he in over his head with Sara?
32.
Sara was thankful the fair kept her busy the next morning. Four solid hours of manning the art stall, chatting with locals, accepting compliments from parents of her art students. And there were a lot of compliments, the kind that blew her away.
When she’d accepted Andy’s offer to run a few classes, she’d never expected to enjoy them, let alone have the kids praise her so highly. Many of the parents asked if she’d considered running art classes out of school hours during the semester and she’d been flabbergasted.
She’d already decided to stay in Redemption permanently. The place was good for her soul. She had no idea if it was living in Gran’s house surrounded by precious memories, or the laid-back atmosphere of the town, or the friendliness of the people in general, but Redemption had healed her in a way she’d hoped for but never counted on.
While she was financially secure for the moment, it would be nice to supplement her income and give something back to a community that had already given her so much.
She’d ask Andy Symes’s advice later. Because the more she thought about it, the more excitement fizzed through her veins.
Teaching part-time pyrography classes would be great, a soothing balm for her soul and a way to foster children’s love of art.
“Are all these pieces sold?” A familiar voice shook her out of her reverie. Jake leaned on the front of her stall, decidedly delicious in navy shorts, a pale blue polo and aviator sunglasses.
Her heart gave a massive kathump as she remembered last night and how much further it could’ve gone if they hadn’t been lying in a vineyard under a moonlit sky.
“Only two left,” she said, pointing to a matching pair of grape clusters hanging off a vine. “But I’m supposed to be saving those for Mrs. Minelli.”
He leaned over and she inhaled, savoring the crispness of freshly showered male. “That old bat’s purse strings are tied tight. She’s probably promised half the stalls here she’d buy stuff.”
“Be nice.” Sara chuckled. “Though I think you’re right. Her hands are empty.”
“Cilla says she never donates to the hospital, whatever fundraising they do.” He made a cross sign with his fingers. “Rumor has it she’s blacklisted from the seniors’ functions too because she’s on the lookout for husband number three.”
The thought of the wizened Italian lady who never wore anything other than black searching for a husband made Sara smile.
“Where’s Olly?”
Jake jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “At the jumping castle with some of the kids he met at art class, under the supervision of Andy Symes.”
“And Cilla? Haven’t seen much of her today.”
Jake grinned. “Think she’s busy trying to avoid her boyfriend.”
“Is he the dishy doctor who’s been buzzing around between stalls, helping out wherever necessary?”
Jake frowned and mock pouted. “You think he’s dishy?”
“Oh yeah.” Sara loved teasing Jake, loved the banter they traded. She’d never had that with Greg, who’d been serious and driven since day one. “Makes me wish I had a cold so I could go see him.”
“That’s downright sick.” Jake waggled his finger at her. “Cilla’s got enough problems with the doc without you making a play for him.” He slid his aviators down a little and stared at her over the top. “Not that you would, right?”
“Right,” she said, laughing when he swiped his brow in relief. “But I find the whole grey hair thing on a young guy rather distinguished.”
Jake snorted. “He’s in his forties. He’s not young.”
Some of Sara’s amusement faded as she glimpsed Cilla ducking behind the popcorn stand when she saw Bryce heading her way.
“Seriously, what’s going on between them? Your aunt doesn’t seem happy these days.”
He grimaced. “Understatement of the year. She won’t talk to me about it, which is probably a good thing. But I hate seeing her unhappy. She’s had enough of that in her life before. She deserves better.”
Sara had felt awkward enough talking to Cilla last time about her relationship and she really didn’t want to do it again. But she knew what it was like not havi
ng anyone to talk to about the tough stuff. And Cilla would be her neighbor permanently.
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
Jake brightened. “Would you? I know I put you on the spot last time but she’s not opening up to me and I’m worried.”
“Ssh,” Sara said. “She’s headed this way.”
Sara knew that if her expression mirrored Jake’s, they looked like two naughty kids who’d been discovered with their hands in a cookie jar.
“Hey, Cilla, looks like the fair’s a roaring success,” Sara said. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks to all of you.” Cilla smiled but it did little to detract from the fatigue pinching her mouth and the dark circles under her eyes. Looked like she’d been losing sleep too. “Sergio’s family are going to be thrilled.”
“Glad to help.” Sara gestured at her stall. “Only two pieces left to sell.”
“I knew your wonderful work would sell out.” Cilla glanced at her watch. “We’re winding up in an hour so I’d better keep moving.”
“Wait.” Jake, who’d remained silent until now, bent down to kiss his aunt’s cheek. “You’ve been amazing, organizing this entire event from start to finish. This town owes you big time.”
To Sara’s surprise, Cilla’s eyes filled with tears.
“This town stood by me when I needed it most so it’s the least I can do.” Cilla blinked rapidly. “Helping out when I can is rewarding.”
Considering how she’d felt after the art classes, Sara could empathize. Helping others was a great distraction. An alleviator of boredom. A way to focus on anything else but what niggled and annoyed a person until it was all they could think about.
“Looks like our new doc shares your sentiment,” Jake said, and when Cilla stiffened and shot a quick glance over her shoulder, as if she expected Bryce to have materialized there, Sara knew Cilla needed to confront her demons or else it would eat her away.
“He’s been helpful,” Cilla said, her voice carefully controlled. “Everyone’s pitched in.”
“Are we all still meeting for a drink at the diner once the fair’s closed?” Sara had planned on heading home, she was that tired, but it would give her a good opportunity to chat to Cilla in an informal setting. With a little luck, the good doctor would be around to further her cause.
“I’m beat.” Cilla shook her head. “Thought I’d take Olly home and relax.”
“Olly’s looking forward to a burger at the diner,” Jake said, then ducked down to murmur, “You can’t keep hiding from the doc forever.”
“Watch me,” Cilla said, shooting Jake a scathing glare before hurrying off in the opposite direction to Bryce.
“That went well,” Jake said, his tone dry.
“She’s hurting,” Sara said, her glance speculative as she saw a crestfallen Bryce watching Cilla’s retreating back. “She’s hiding it well behind a stoic mask but there’s more going on than we know.”
“It was the age difference initially,” Jake said.
“There’s more to it.” Sara just knew it. A confident, independent woman like Cilla would be used to presenting a hardened front to the world. Judging from the snippets Jake had divulged, she’d been through the wringer in her marriage and the scandal that had followed her husband’s suicide. She’d had many years to harden her hide, so the fact she was wearing her heart on her sleeve now because of Bryce meant Cilla was in deep.
“In that case, I should stay out of it.” Jake held up his hands. “Secret women’s business is complicated.”
“I’ll try to pop in this afternoon.”
“And I’ll make myself and Olly scarce.” He crooked his finger at her. “Maybe later on, we can make ourselves scarce.”
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she laughed.
“We’re taking it slow, remember?”
“Slow I can handle.” His hand snaked out to capture hers, turn it palm up, then trace slow, concentric circles in the middle of it, making her squirm and setting long-neglected nerve endings alight. “But I’m not a snail.”
When breathing grew difficult, she snatched her hand away. “Don’t you believe the old fables about tortoises winning races?”
His lips eased into a wicked smile that made her pulse pound. “Let’s get to the race first, then I’ll show you how I use slow and steady to win the ultimate prize.”
Sara swallowed as heat flooded her body. Jake was a master at flirting. Or maybe it had been too darn long since she’d had a guy pay her this much attention that he made her hot and bothered.
“Don’t you have to man the soda fountain for a while?”
He grinned. “Nice deflection. I’ll allow it for now.” He captured a strand of her hair and tugged on it lightly, making her scalp tingle. “But later? It’s time for the tortoise and the hare to . . . warm up.”
Sara waited until Jake had left before fanning her flaming face. Looked like Cilla wasn’t the only one who was in deep when it came to sexy guys.
33.
Cilla made her usual end-of-fundraiser speech to wind down the fair. She’d made enough of them to almost recite this one from heart. Which was lucky, considering she had a hard time stringing two words together with Bryce staring at her with obvious disapproval.
She’d dodged him all morning and if his glower was any indication, he’d noticed. But she had a feeling he’d corner her at the end of the fair.
So when her speech came to an end and he turned away and disappeared through the crowd, she couldn’t have been more surprised.
He’d told her to face facts over breakfast at the diner, had said she could come find him when she did. Her initial ballsy response, not a chance, still stood firm. So why did sadness clog her throat as she watched him get into his car and drive away?
The only fact she had to face was the one that clearly stated they could never be anything beyond friends. And she’d been doing okay coming to terms with that. But every time she saw him, her heart gave an embarrassing flip-flop and her stomach joined the party.
Women her age didn’t experience heart flutters or stomach rollovers. Or did they?
She’d shut herself off for twenty years. Longer, if she counted the deliberate detachment she’d fostered during intimate relations with Vernon. During his meaningless quick thrusts, she’d mentally list tomorrow’s to-do list until he’d finished. She’d completed a lot of lists that way.
Now, whenever Bryce looked at her, it felt like her body sat up and howled. She tingled. All over.
Maybe it was time to go on a date with someone closer to her age? James Winsome had flirted with her over the last few years. A fifty-something widower who ran a successful winery in the region, he was known for two things: sublime chardonnay and exaggerated charm.
She’d always managed to deflect his attentions, fobbing him off with a joke or a laugh. Maybe it was time to see if her body could be assuaged with a man more her vintage?
As if she’d conjured him up, James appeared next to the stage and held out his hand to help her down.
“That was some speech, lovely lady.”
Cilla would’ve usually ignored his hand. Today, she took it. “Thanks. And thanks for donating the wine. It sold like hotcakes.”
“It’s a good vintage.” He winked. “Like me.”
Cilla forced a chuckle. James still held her hand and . . . she felt nothing. No spark. No zing. No goddamn tingle.
“So when are you going to make an honest man out of me, and come out to the vineyard for some of my home cooking?” He squeezed her hand. “I’d love to show you around the place.”
Probably starting with his bedroom.
Cilla should accept. She should put herself out there and start dating. Forget all about sexy young doctors who made her heart go pitter-patter.
But she’d been many things in her life and fickle wasn’t one of them. She couldn’t use James when his touch left her absolutely cold.
“Maybe I’ll pop by one day if you’re luck
y,” she said, tempering her refusal with a smile as she slid her hand out of his.
James made a mock gun with his thumb and forefinger, and cocked it. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Cilla wished he wouldn’t but she returned his corny finger wave as he strolled away, looking every one of his fifty-odd years in brown corduroy pants, a checked shirt and a dusty cowboy hat.
“Damn you, Bryce Madden,” she muttered under her breath. She knew she had to bring this situation between them to a head, but she had no idea how to go about it.
Time to do some serious thinking.
34.
After a long day at the fair, Jake was looking forward to spending some time with Sara. She’d agreed to come over for supper and Jake had been like an excited kid all day. So when his cell beeped with an incoming message, he hoped it would be her, saying she’d be over pronto.
He hadn’t been able to forget their make-out session at the vineyard last night and judging by her upbeat mood at the fair today, she hadn’t either. For the first time since they’d met, she’d appeared to enjoy his flirting, giving as good as she got.
However, when he glanced at the screen, the text was from Rose.
HEY BRO.
I’M READY 4 VISITORS.
WUD LUV 2 C OL ASAP!
Ignoring the wave of disappointment that washed over him, leaving him cold, he fired off a quick response. He should be thrilled that his sister had improved to the point of receiving visitors, not lamenting the fact he couldn’t see Sara tonight. Rose’s text meant she wouldn’t be far off leaving rehab. Olly would be ecstatic.
“Is that Sara?” Cilla asked, bustling around the kitchen as usual, chopping and freezing herbs.
“No, Rose. She’s up for visitors and wants to see Olly.” Jake injected enthusiasm into his voice, hoping Cilla wouldn’t pick up on his discontent. “I’ll take him now.”
After all Rose and Olly had been through, the least he could do was reunite the kid with his mom, even if it were only for a few hours.
“Isn’t Sara coming over?” Cilla dried her hands, sat at the kitchen table, rubbed her foot and winced. “Though if her feet are half as sore as mine from manning a stall all morning, she’s probably soaking in a bath.”