But it was a big deal. He’d finally decided to take a chance and get back out there. Something had changed in him the day he’d met Peyton. No one in Portland had piqued his interest, but he moved to Harper’s Grove and bam, his hormones had started to come out of the deep thaw. He felt like a teenage boy again. He had yearnings and urges and found she interrupted his thoughts on a daily basis. It was as if he had no control over when or where he thought about her. It made him feel uneasy, but in a good way.
He drove to the address she’d given him the other night after picking up a lovely flower arrangement from the florist in town. It was a lake house on the outskirts of town. The picturesque home was gorgeous, made of pine wood and pebble stone with huge panel windows that allowed for a lot of natural light to flow in. He rang the doorbell. His breath hitched when she opened the door. She wore a pretty, unique patchwork jean jumper dress with a tank top and a pair of cute sandals. Her hair was down and flowing around her shoulders.
“Peyton. You look great.” He cleared his throat and held up the flowers. “These are for you.”
“Thanks. Come on in.” She motioned him inside. “What a beautiful color display.”
“I thought you might like it.”
“Oh.” She set the flowers down on a foyer table and handed him a travel mug. “Double latte with foam and a chocolate swirl.”
“Wow. Thanks. How did you know?”
“I heard you order one day in the coffee shop.”
“I don’t remember seeing you in there.”
“I was behind you. It was one of those days we’d seen each other several times on Main Street. I got fed up and left before we could accuse each other of stalking again.”
He laughed. “I thought that day was a bit odd too.”
“I guess small town living isn’t for paranoid people.” She peeked over his shoulder as she closed the door. “What’s with the car? Is yours in the shop again? Did you hit someone else?”
“No, it belongs to a friend of mine. He thought a drive to Napa should only be experienced in a flamboyant fire-engine red convertible. He doesn’t realize how much of a cliché it is.”
“I think you’re right. But it’s a fun cliché.” She laughed. “I’m almost ready. I’ll have to put the flowers in a vase then grab my bags.”
“Nice home.” He looked around. Her house was tastefully decorated, and the view of the lake was fabulous. A long wooden walkway led from the patio area down to a dock, where a chair, easel, and a table sat on it. There were scads of large, framed photos of a vaguely familiar woman on the walls.
“Thanks but it’s not mine. It belongs to my friend Skyler Andrews. She’s an actress. I don’t know if you’ve heard of her.”
“I have.” He nodded. “She does a lot of television work, right?”
“Yes. She’s done pretty well. My friend Skyler has what every reasonably successful actress should have: a big ego.” She motioned him into the living room while she went off in another direction, but he could still hear her. “Putting up with the shrine is a small price to pay for house-sitting while she’s out of the country filming her latest movie.”
“What kind of movie is she filming?”
“Some rom com about finding love in Tuscany.”
“It’s not the same plot as ‘Under the Tuscan Sun,’ is it?”
“No, I don’t think so. At least I hope not. I love that movie. It should never be re-made.”
“I’m afraid that’s the current mentality in Hollywood. When something is good, beat it to death with remakes. I liked that movie as-is too.”
She peeked back into the living room, her hair piled up in one hand and a decorative hair tie in another. “Really? I didn’t figure you for a romance movie type.”
He grinned. “I’m a mystery and suspense kind of guy, but I have my moments.”
“Have you seen any of Skyler’s other movies?” She hurried into the other room and raised her voice to continue the conversation.
“I think I’ve seen her in several made-for-television movies. Oh, and that political thriller. Has she done anything on the big screen since that one?”
“No. She hasn’t had any major luck, but she’s becoming a staple on the small screen. We both had such big dreams in college. She was going to conquer Hollywood, and I was going to light up the art world. I was going to be the first famous artist to enjoy the fruits of my artistic labors while I was still living, but alas the masses haven’t caught on to my artistic vision.”
“My mother used to say it’s a test of a person’s character when they discover their mission in life is not to be adored by millions but loved by a few.”
“That’s very insightful.”
When she finally walked back into view with her bags and her hair in the messy upsweep, his heart skipped a beat.
“Breathtaking,” he murmured.
She glanced his way. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should have said you look beautiful when you opened the door. Because you do. I’m afraid I’m a bit out of practice with this dating thing.”
“Thanks.” She touched his hand. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t been on a date in a while either. So basically we’re two virgins on our way to a fun-filled day in the wine country.”
He let out a hearty laugh. “That sounds like the setup for a bad joke.”
“Yes. But it got you to laugh. You should laugh more often.”
Around her, he just might start. He didn’t answer her though, only took her bags. “Camera?”
“I never leave home without them.”
“Let’s get on the road.”
* * *
Peyton watched as Alex adjusted the mirrors, channel-hopped the radio stations, and checked GPS coordinates twice. It was the perfect day for a road trip. The California sun was shining magnificently, the sunlight felt good on her skin, and the company was fantastic.
She could tell Alex was nervous, and she wasn’t in any better shape, but she thought she covered well. The minute she’d opened the door, butterflies started dancing around in her stomach. He looked good today in a nice blue dress shirt and a pair of jeans, like he’d made an effort to appear relaxed. He’d even unbuttoned one of the top buttons on his shirt. She thought about kidding him about his outfit, but she knew this was unfamiliar territory for him and didn’t want to make him self-conscious or turn things awkward. He’d confirmed it when he’d confessed he was a little rusty with dating etiquette. Still, no matter how beautiful the passing scenery, the silence in the car was aggravating.
“How do you like Harper’s Grove so far?”
“I’m adjusting. It’s a big change of environment from Portland. Portland was much bigger, but it felt like a small town. I guess it’s because I went to college there and returned to practice medicine. But the biggest thing here is how early everything closes down.”
“I had to acclimate to that too. The streets roll up around ten, with the exception of a few restaurants.”
And then the silence returned, or so she thought.
He glanced over at her and tapped his fingers on the wheel. “So you and Austin are friends?”
“Yes. He was one of the first people to welcome me when I came to town. He asked me to photograph his ranch for the brochures and the word of mouth helped my photography business. I owe him a lot.”
“I see. So you think of him as almost like a brother? Nothing more?”
Ah. He was fishing to see if she and Austin had been close. “Yes. Does that seem strange to you?” She scrunched her nose.
“No.” He shook his head. “Not at all.”
“You’re wondering if there was ever anything between us?”
“Well. Yeah. He named a horse after you.”
“Nope. We’re just good friends. I mean he’s handsome, rugged and—”
“I get your point.” He shot her a look.
“But we never saw each other that way. W
e clicked when I spent time at his ranch. He’s a straight shooter, you know? I like that. He doesn’t mind being silly with me either.”
“Austin? Silly?”
“He can be fun. We hang out at the Cantina some times.”
He glanced at her and then back at the road. “Where are you from? Where did you live before you came here?”
“I’m from Grand Rapids, Nebraska, but I attended school here in California. After college I bounced around for a while until I went to New York, where I lived for three years.”
“Really? How was that? I’ve visited the Big Apple for vacation, but I always wondered what the daily grind was like.”
“I wanted to be close to the art scene, so I did what any budding artist would do. I took a gamble and moved there with nothing but my hopes, dreams, and a whole lot of pluck.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“It was a magical time in my life. I had that young optimism that hadn’t been marred by real-life setbacks.”
“What happened?”
“The reality of being a starving artist came into play. Things were moving slower than I expected. I was taking classes and working on my craft but I had to work a real job to pay the bills. I loved roving around taking photos, but I lost touch with my painting. And I broke up with my boyfriend.” She shrugged.
“Boyfriend? What happened between you two?”
“I thought he was a catch, but he had his eye on the stock market and I came a distant second. It was just as well. We were never really compatible. At least, not in the ways that counted. He never had faith in my abilities as an artist.”
“That must have been tough.”
“It sure was. We were living together too, so I packed up and came back to the Golden State. If I were going to be broke, I thought it could at least be some place sunny and warm most of the year. As luck would have it, Skyler asked me to house sit. I think it was partly out of pity, but she offered all the same.”
“She sounds like a good friend.” He tapped on the wheel. “And the ex-boyfriend sounds like a fool.”
“You’re right on both counts.” She smiled. “What about you? Do you have any tales of your misspent youth?”
“Let’s see. I’ve been a pretty straight arrow most of my life.”
She feigned surprise. “What a shocker.”
“But I did have a few moments. It wasn’t easy being the oldest. I had to keep up with my sister and brothers. They were a handful.”
“I know about your famous brother, Derek.”
“There’s also Sienna and Theo. Sienna works as a fashion magazine editor in Paris, and Theo is still finding himself by trying out the most reckless things he can imagine. Motocross is his recent obsession. My parents haven’t even tried to give him the big speech about finding direction in his life.” He shook his head.
“Nothing wrong with craving adventure.”
“I just worry about him getting hurt.”
“Is he the baby?”
“Yes.”
“There you go. The baby of the family almost always gets their way. Parents are usually too tired to fight anymore.”
“Well, I don’t plan to let Chloe slip through my fingers. She’s already at that age where she’s fine-tuning her moral compass. I try to lead by example, so she can see the values I have and why it’s important to have a strong sense of self. I take an interest in what both my kids are watching. I’ve found that lots of unsavory things are wrapped in a nice bow of cartoons and video games. Noah chooses his own friends and will often talk to me if one of them asks him to do or say something that doesn’t feel right with who he is as a person.”
“He has a strong personality. I’ve seen it in class. Some of his friends want to do something, but he doesn’t and he doesn’t go along with them either. He’s not easily convinced to follow the flock.”
“I think he’s inherited the Popovich stubborn gene.”
“Chloe doesn’t mind being different. Even if someone makes fun of something she’s doing. She good at tuning them out. She enjoys it, in fact.”
He laughed. “That’s something she learned from her Aunt Charisma.”
She set the camera down on her lap. “Chloe and Noah are great kids.”
“Thanks.” He kept his eyes on the road. “But I can’t take all the credit. Rachel, their mom, put in all the hard work.”
She couldn’t help but look at him. There was a strain in his voice when he said his late wife’s name. “You’ve done pretty well stepping up. I know it can’t be easy doing it all on your own.”
“It’s a group effort. We have a nice groove.”
She wanted to say more, but the right words wouldn’t come to her. She looked up and the sign for Napa was right in front of them. Alex put on the blinker and turned onto the exit ramp. A few minutes later when the GPS announced they’d reached their destination, she was a little disappointed. After their initial awkward silence, Alex had opened up and turned chatty, the sun was shining brightly, and the wind was in her hair. It had been totally worth it to get up early and curl her hair this morning. As far as she was concerned, it had already been the perfect day and could only get better from here.
As soon as they drove into the graveled parking lot of the Paloma Vineyard, the magnificent scenery captivated her. There were miles of rolling hills in every direction. The main building was covered with sprawling vines, but the focal point was the house in the distance, which looked more like an Italian villa. It was cozy and rustic, yet grand and imposing. It was sweet how he jumped out of the sports car and rounded the front of it to open her car door. He reached for her hand and when she took his, a jolt of electricity passed between them. It took them both by surprise.
“This place is fantastic,” she stammered as she put her camera around her neck and started snapping photos.
He looked around. “Yes, it is.”
They were greeted at the front door by a hostess who handed them a wine tasting kit that consisted of a list of the wines they’d be sampling. According to the paper, there was free-range munching all afternoon during the tasting, but dinner would be more formal and served at Marco’s house. There was also a card to mark the dinner selection of your choice, which was being cooked personally by Marco.
“Alex, bello vederti amico mio!” A tall, muscular, curly haired guy appeared out of nowhere and gave Alex a hug.
“Marco, è bello vedere di nuovo!” Alex hugged him back.
“Vedo il tuo italiano sta migliorando.” Marco grinned, then changed his tone. “YA rabotayu nad moim russkim. YA popravlyayus'?”
“Da.”
Marco turned to her. “Chi è questa magnifica creatura?”
Peyton extended her hand. “Il mio nome è Peyton. Hai una bella vigna. Non vedo l'ora di assaggiare il vostro vino.”
Alex and Marco both looked at her.
“I’m pretty sure I just said I was looking forward to the tasting.”
Marco smiled. “You did. Your Italian is very good.”
Not to be outdone by the two handsome, worldly men, she responded in Russian. “Vy dolzhny uslyshat' moy russkiy. No moy lyubimyy yazyk-frantsuzskiy.”
“You speak Italian, Russian, and French. Two of the three are the languages for lovers. Russian always sounds so authoritarian. But you make them all sound beautiful.” Marco kissed her hand. “I think I’m in love.”
Alex pulled her hand out of Marco’s grasp. “Don’t you fall in love every week?”
Marco laughed. “Twice if I’m lucky.”
“Marco, this is my friend Peyton Colfax, an accomplished photographer and painter.” Alex turned to her. “Peyton, this charmer is Marco Di Giovanni, the owner.”
“So nice to meet you, Marco. I enjoy your wine. It’s been served at many a dinner party I’ve attended. I hope it’s OK if I take some photos of your event. I would be happy to send them to you if you’d like to use them in the future for publicity purposes.”
“Of course you can.
” He beamed. “That’s always music to my ears. I want you to have a good time. I marked off a few selections that you absolutely have to try, especially the champagne. Derek is adding them to the Slap Shot menu, and there’s one in particular that will be an exclusive wine for the Blake Hotels. I thought you could give him some honest feedback.”
“We’d love to.”
“I have to mingle. Don’t forget to take the tour of the grounds. Peyton, I am anxious to see how your photographic eye sees my humble abode. Again, enjoy, and I hope this will be a day you won’t forget.” Marco walked off in the direction of a small group of people standing by the bar.
“Marco certainly is a ball of energy,” she said.
“Authoritarian my ass.” Alex turned to her. “I didn’t know you spoke Russian.”
“So, yes I understood that curse word you said when that driver cut you off on the highway.” She smiled. “YAzyk ne kazhetsya mne avtoritarnym. On komandnyy i sil'nyy, kak i vy.”
“Vozmozhno, ya mog by skazat' vam boleye priyatnyye veshchi na svoyem rodnom yazyke.”
“I’d like that.” She tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Let me guess? You learned to speak many languages one crazy summer backpacking around Europe?”
“Nah. I won a raffle at a learning annex. I took a bunch of language classes. I also know sign language.” She signed the last sentence to him as she said it aloud.
“Ah.” He smiled, then raised his eyebrows and swept a hand around at the villa. “Where would you like to start?”
She looked at the card the hostess had given them. “Let’s start with the white wines.”
* * *
Alex took one look at all the activity and decided to pace himself. Marco was an excellent winemaker, and it was hard not to try every food and libation laid out. He was the designated driver after all, so that meant Peyton could enjoy herself, but he had to refrain.
Second Chance at Love Page 10