by Kim Karr
Tabitha sighed and waved her hands in the air, blowing on them as if to warm them. “That’s everything.”
“Why didn’t you ask the guys to unload?” I asked.
Pouring herself a glass of white, Highway 128, I might add, Tabitha tilted her head and batted her long lashes. “Because they might spill something in Lane’s precious BMW.”
Tabitha wore leather leggings, sky-high ankle booties, and a deep cut, hot pink cashmere sweater that showed off her amazing cleavage in a way only she could pull off.
Lane, pouring herself a glass of California Jane Cabernet, turned to her. “Excuse me for wanting to keep my car nice,” she said tersely. “But since your backseat is loaded with baby wipes and Cheerios, I get why you wouldn’t understand that.”
Tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, Tabitha said, “FYI, Emerson doesn’t even eat Cheerios yet and those are breast pump bags, not baby wipes.”
Lane shivered and Darcy broke out in laughter. “Babies aren’t contagious, Lane, you do know that, right?”
“Of course.” Lane didn’t look convinced as she dipped a shrimp in the cocktail sauce and bit it delicately.
These women were best friends and nothing they said to each other was taken as malice or with ill-will. I was fascinated by their relationship. In L.A., everyone was fake and wanted something from you. Genuine wasn’t a word tossed around, at all.
Darcy was still enlightening Lane about babies but broke off as the men came into the room, laughing in hysteria.
“What’s so funny?” Tabitha demanded to know.
“Women.” Tyler set down the plate of brie he’d been eating and strode toward me. “These clowns seem to think flowers and chocolate are the best way to beg forgiveness, and I completely disagree.”
“I think flowers and chocolates are kind of sweet,” Darcy insisted, “but it depends on the situation, I suppose. What is the situation, Tyler?”
He was gorgeous as he approached me. All long, lean body. Strong. Confident. Beautiful to look at. Even surrounded by his friends, there was so much raw power emanating from him.
I was suddenly struck with the reason why I was always so drawn to him, and it wasn’t just his sex appeal—I felt safe. I felt secure. I felt adored.
He rubbed the back of his head, causing his hair to stick up even more. “Let’s just say, I did what I always do.”
“Classic Tyler,” Christian joked, using a toothpick to pop a canapé into his mouth.
No more chips and solo cups for this crowd.
“I don’t know, Ty, that kind of apology might require something a little bigger.”
“Yeah, like diamonds or a personality replacement.”
Tyler just shook his head. He didn’t seem to care about the knocks, though, because he was too busy roaming my body with his hot gaze.
I’d changed out of my blue jeans and into a pair of tight, black skinny jeans, tossed on an off-shoulder-cashmere sweater that I’d gotten on sale in L.A. last winter, and chunky ankle boots.
And I could tell he liked it, a lot.
Taking my glass from my hand, he brought it to his lips and sipped it. “Interesting choice. A little CJ.” He grinned and it was wickedly sexy.
“It was the closest bottle.”
Handing it back to me he said, “Good try.”
I shrugged a little. “So I like your Pinot better. You don’t have to gloat about it.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “No gloating here. It just shows you have good taste.”
Arrogant SOB.
After pouring himself a glass of CJ, of which I guessed we were now calling California Jane, he leaned against the counter. Crossing one long leg over the other at the ankle, he slid his hand down my back. In his white tee and dark denim jeans with his combat boots he was so James Dean.
I couldn’t help but shiver under his touch.
The rich, strong scent of Merlot wafted under my nose. I could practically taste the aroma on my tongue, but I didn’t reach for a sip. I’d rather taste it on his lips—later.
He popped a grape into his mouth from the bowl beside him. “You happy?”
Swallowing emotion I couldn’t contain, I nodded. “Surprisingly, yes.”
His grin turned devilish as he brought a grape to my lips. “Knew you would be. Just had to give me a chance.”
Had I done that?
Or was I waiting for him to fail?
I honestly didn’t know.
“To the happy couple,” Grayson cheered, raising his glass.
Everyone raised their glasses in congratulations to Tyler and me—the happy couple. Even me.
And at the moment . . . we were.
Paris
I ATE WAY too much.
Pushing my plate forward, I watched as Tyler poked at the rest of his food. His appetite was obviously affected by having to wait for Wilhelmina to return to get answers about Corky and London.
The call for attention came in the form of a clink against a glass. Everyone turned to the culprit. “Tyler forgot one thing,” Tabitha spoke out.
Amused, he wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin on the table. “To uninvite you?” Tyler said in jest.
She pursed her lips. “Ha, ha, you’re so funny I almost forget to laugh,” she sparked and then narrowed her gaze at her husband, who was laughing.
He stopped immediately.
“The bachelor and bachelorette parties.”
Everyone groaned, even the men.
She paused as she bent to blow out one of the candles. “So, I am going to correct Tyler’s oversight and officially declare tonight the night.”
I was shaking my head no.
Tyler poured me another glass of wine. “Just say yes, it will make life much easier.”
“Uh-oh,” Darcy warned.
“No uh-ohs,” Tabitha insisted. “I have it all planned out and the limos are out front waiting for us.”
Everyone stared at her, even Grayson. Undeterred, she clapped her hands. “Chop, chop. The men are going to Whiskey Tip’s and the women are going to The Vineyard.”
“Hey,” Tyler protested. “The Vineyard is my stomping ground.”
I raised a brow in his direction and he shrugged. “When I used to party, that was.”
She gave him a flick of her wrist. “Too bad, I like it better there.”
And there you had it. Practically in a single-file line, we were wrapping up in our coats and heading out the door.
Before parting ways, Tyler snagged my wrist and brought me tight to his body. “Don’t stay out too late. We have a new bed to christen.”
As he kissed me, I let my toe pop up and I savored the physical rush of being in his arms because somewhere in the back of my head I was worried it was all going to come crumbling down.
“Come on, let’s go,” Tabitha tugged at my collar.
I smiled at Tyler. “Be good.”
He gave me that bad boy look that had butterflies dancing in my belly. “Always am.”
“Don’t believe him,” Tabitha said.
“Never do.” I winked and then smiled at him, blowing him a kiss.
“I like this girl.” Tabitha was already pushing me in the car and I couldn’t look back to see if he’d caught my kiss.
As soon as Tabitha slammed the door, she tossed each of us a bag. Another bag. Oh no. These were labeled with our names on them.
“What’s this?” Darcy asked.
“I hope not her latest victim,” Lane drawled.
Tabitha’s nose crinkled. “I’m not practicing, anymore, in case you’ve forgotten.”
I looked toward Darcy who explained. “She was a shark in divorce court. Used to be she could take a man’s dick and his balls, too.”
I nodded. “Good to know.”
She laughed and squeezed my knee. “You and Tyler have what it takes to make it, so you shouldn’t need her services. Just remember, love is never easy.”
“Open them,” Tabitha insisted, tearing the tissue out
of her own bag as we did ours.
I held up the 70’s style slinky black dress that was in mine. It was me, but it was slinky.
Did I mention slinky?
Also in the bag were red-soled black stiletto booties that were a mile high.
“I can’t accept this,” I whispered to Darcy, who was pulling out her outfit. “It’s too much.”
She shook her head. “Don’t go there. Tabitha is about to come into her trust fund. When the money gets released, she’ll be nineteen million dollars richer. So, just let her have her fun.”
All I could do was nod.
I’d almost forgotten these women came from the wealthiest families in Calistoga. Tabitha’s father had been the grandchild of a very successful rancher, who at one time, owned all of the land in Calistoga and St. Helena. Darcy and Lane’s families were both involved in the service industry. One owning a hotel and the other involved in banking.
I glanced around and saw the looks on both Darcy and Lane’s faces as they pulled out their wares, and thought, yes, I’d keep mine and be quiet.
Darcy, well, I think the color she was holding up might have been teal, but the shorts romper and thigh-high leather boots were a lot to take in.
Lane’s dress was silver, like a disco ball, and was accompanied by matching heels. At least the length was knee length and it didn’t look like it showed that much skin. “No way am I wearing this.” She shoved it back at Tabitha.
“You will and you are. This is Paris’s bachelorette party and we’re going to party like it’s 1999.”
“Or dress that way,” Lane muttered.
Tabitha pushed her sweater over her head and pulled a hot pink strapless number down and over her big chest. I think it was midi-length, which was good with all the skin she had showing on top. “I’ll have you know,” she snapped, “I had my stylist hand-pick these outfits. In fact, they’ll be on the runway at Fashion Week this Spring.”
Darcy started unbuttoning her blouse. “Don’t bother arguing, Lane, just change. You know you’ll never win this argument. Remember, she’s a bulldog in the courtroom and out.”
She huffed but eventually changed. We were all dressed and drinking champagne by the time the limo arrived at The Vineyard.
“Wait,” Tabitha called as I was getting out. “I forget to give you this.” She put a tiara on my head with an attached veil and I cringed a little. Oh, God, everyone would be looking at me. “Perfect,” she cooed, and followed me out of the car.
She pushed her way to the front, bypassing the long line of people waiting to get in, and the three of us followed.
A very tall, very muscular guy stood outside, and he smiled at Tabitha. He had a cleanly-shaped beard and he wore a diamond stud in his ear. “You made it,” he told her with excitement in his voice
“We did.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Ladies,” he greeted. “Go on in. Your table is ready.”
“Who’s that?” I asked Darcy.
“That’s Lance. He’s the brother of one of her clients. He says he owes her big for getting his sister out of a bad marriage and taking the dude for all he had.”
“Awesome.” I grinned, hoping I never had to face her in divorce court because she’d of course, be Tyler’s lawyer.
Tabitha really was badass.
The four of us walked inside with our VIP status and designer clothes and I had to admit, I didn’t mind for once that all eyes were on me.
This was the Vineyard.
The Vineyard was well, the Highway’s rival, and as such, I’d never set foot inside. There was also the line crossing thing Tyler and I had done, which kept me out of Calistoga.
The place was surprisingly classy and edgy. As my competition, I wanted it to be anything but. With its dark walls, acrylic barstools, and white chairs and sofas framed in huge arch windows, I had to admit, I could see the draw.
Tabitha led us through the noisy crowd toward a long table in the back corner of the room, just off the dance floor. Music reverberated through the air, invading my blood, pumping in time with my pulse.
This kind of scene was one I was used to.
When we reached the table, a waitress was already standing there with a tray full of champagne flutes and yellow labeled bottles.
It wasn’t Dom, and I was glad. In truth, I preferred Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label Brut. It was a champagne I was dying to replicate with its predominance of Pinot Noir and its touch of Pinot Meunier to round it out, it was a perfectly balanced sparkling wine.
Tabitha took the first glass and turned to us. With a smile, she said, “To Paris for landing Northern California’s most eligible bachelor.”
They all cheered.
I wasn’t sure what to think of that.
Landing. Did I land him? Or did he land me? Then again, I wasn’t certain we had actually landed yet at all.
“Let’s drink,” Darcy exclaimed over the music before downing the entire thing.
Lane stared at her in awe.
“What?” she said. “I’m not on call.”
She must have taken that as a green light because she did the same. I followed.
“Another round,” Tabitha told the waitress after downing hers.
Once everyone had finished two more drinks, it was Darcy who proclaimed, “Let’s dance!”
Tabitha yelled, “Yes,” and pulled me toward the dance floor.
I was shaking my bootie to a song I wasn’t certain the name of when I saw someone from my past I wasn’t too crazy about.
Sophie Barton.
The mean girl.
I primped my veil and wanted to look away, but I didn’t. Instead, our gazes met and held for a brief moment. In that short period of time, I swore I saw triumph in her eyes, and I couldn’t understand what she had to gloat about.
She wore a red jumpsuit with a push-up bra that left little to the imagination. Her dark hair was streaked even blonder than I remembered and lash extensions longer than any I’d ever seen.
I was too stunned to do more than stare for a good thirty seconds. Finally, I managed to yell in Darcy’s ear, “Sophie Barton’s over there.”
“Can’t be,” she said. Chances were good none of these girls knew why I hated the mean girl.
“Look.” I tried to keep my voice from trembling.
She turned and then gave me a shrug. “Yes, it is. Hmmm . . . I thought Tyler told me she’d moved to San Francisco.”
Tyler kept in touch with her?
The past is the past.
I took a deep breath. “What’s she do now?” I asked casually.
Darcy put her arms in the air. “PR or something, I’m not quite sure.”
Tabitha was shaking it with some guy and totally oblivious to my questions.
Lane, though, she overheard us, and jerked her head in Sophie’s direction. If looks could have killed, Sophie would have been dead.
Hmmm . . .
Maybe the girls did know, after all.
I said nothing more about Sophie Barton after that because the memory of her was really putting a damper on my night.
“Come on,” Darcy said, so much wilder when she drank. “It’s time for another drink.”
All four of us headed back to the VIP section, men stopping each of us along the way with propositions.
My veil did nothing to distract their roaming hands, and it was strange how I used to like that kind of attention but couldn’t stand it anymore.
Back at the table, we sat down and drank and talked about Calistoga. The arts. The new shops. The people. And its growth. I was actually interested in what they had to say about the town and drank it in.
Hours passed with more drinking and more dancing and when even Tabitha’s feet were killing her, she finally said, “I think it’s time to go home.”
Darcy fist pumped and Lane dropped her head down. “Thank God,” they both said in unison.
I was the last to get dropped off.
Before I got out of
the car, Tabitha threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly. “I’m so happy you’re a part of our little family,” she said in a rush.
I pulled back from Tabitha and smiled broadly as the front door opened and Tyler stood there all half-lidded and sleepy eyed. “Me too.”
And I really did mean it.
Tyler
I NEEDED TO get the jobs done.
Prying myself out of bed wasn’t easy, but there were some things I needed to accomplish before heading back to the office tomorrow.
There was also that fact that once Wilhelmina returned home, Paris and I would be hopping back on the Corky and London train. And who the fuck knew what kind of dynamite she would throw at us.
Locating the hidden storage room and preparing for the auction were also good Sunday jobs. The latter was going to require a lot of effort, so getting started was a good idea. Thank fuck, Paris had agreed to help me research the vintages at the CJ office this coming week.
I flicked on the lights and looked around the subterranean cellar with its 2,500 square feet, housing over a 2,000 bottles of vintage wines.
Her eyes widened like saucers. “Holy God, this place is amazing,” she mused, running her fingers over the glass bottles that lined the racks.
The tan stucco private tasting room was 22 feet long, had a vaulted ceiling, a wood-burning limestone fireplace, and an antique copper sink that functioned as a place to chill white wines as well. And in the middle of it all was a giant hand-made wooden table that sat sixteen.
“This place is like a giant party room,” she commented, having moved over to the chillers to inspect it.
The oak barrels were on the other side of the room and I made my way over to them, tapping on one. “I’m pretty sure it once was.”
Paris blinked her long lashes. “Do tell.”
On the wall opposite the barrels hung a black and white picture of a woman dangling upside down from a silky rope attached to the ceiling. This very ceiling. The dancer had her foot wrapped tightly in the rope and was carefully pouring wine into the glasses of those sitting beneath her at the table.
“Wow. That looks so very scandalous,” she smirked.
“I used to joke with Wilhelmina that I knew exactly how she got her job at the winery before marrying my grandfather, and it was her dance moves.”