He removed her glasses and set them on the counter. “Your eyes— they’re so beautiful.”
No one ever called her beautiful, not even Bradley. He said she was ‘striking’ which sounded more like a baseball term than a compliment. Mandy said Diana could choose to highlight her assets or hide them. So far, hiding them had worked. The minute she’d chosen to get a little crazy for a minute alone, look what had happened. She’d been in a fire.
Scott didn’t kiss her, but bent down and sucked in her earlobe. She gasped, her hand fisting his shirt. When he let her earlobe go, he lightly tugged at it. Then he leaned in and kissed her lips with a kiss both gentle and at the same time wildly possessive. Firm. Demanding. This is what his lips feel like on mine. He wasn’t giving an inch, but moving in to take, possess. Without another thought she opened up to him, the one man who reminded her of how she’d struggled to fit in as a teen. How she’d failed to connect, too caught up in her own little imaginary world. He was just the kind of mistake she should resist and walk away from without a backwards glance.
But maybe later.
Both hands now fisted his t-shirt and she pulled him even closer. The kiss got a little wild, and she was pulled out of the chair and into his arms. She touched him everywhere, the way she’d wanted to do since first laying eyes on him in the emergency room—her fingers trailing along those rock solid hard arms, rising up to thread through his soft hair. His hands were on her ass, pulling her even closer where she felt his hardness. She had the sense of being moved—and kind of hoped towards the bedroom.
But yes, she agreed, the bedroom was too far away. She was up against a wall before she knew what had happened, his glorious warm tongue trailing down the column of her neck. His warm hands were underneath her skirt, caressing her ass. But this was too crazy, too out of control and not at all what she’d come here to do. She was in town to take care of a grandmother that didn’t need taking care of, bring down a video that had gone viral, interview a firefighter that wouldn’t talk about himself, and lose ten pounds without cutting off a body part. Not to mention write the article, which meant she’d sooner or later have to get a word down. Gran would be waiting at home for Diana right now, maybe curious about the interview. The last kind of behavior she’d expect from Diana would be for her to be a few blocks down the street at Scott’s house about to be nailed to the wall.
A loud rapping sound came from Scott’s front door. He broke the kiss and they both stilled. The sound was far more pound than knock, relentless and unstoppable. Urgent.
Scott let her go and looked through his peephole. He groaned. “It’s my neighbor, Sally.”
Diana reached for her glasses on the counter and slipped them back on.
Scott raked a hand through his hair and paced the entryway. “A cup of flour, half a cup of milk, one tablespoon of sugar—”
“What are you doing?”
“Reciting Gen’s recipe for pancakes.”
“Why?” She dropped her gaze and gaped at the impressive tent in his jeans. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Look, you get the door. I have to get my medical bag anyway, and I need a minute.”
“But—”
He’d already left the room. Diana opened the door and a frazzled looking woman with eyes shifted to full-tilt panic mode held a little boy in her arms.
“I need Scott! Is he here?” Sally shouted, shoving past Diana.
The little boy was wheezing, his face pink and contorted with the effort. Diana had seen this once before in the third grade, when it had happened to one of her classmates. A full blown asthma attack.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“He needs a breathing treatment. The inhaler didn’t work.” She squatted on the floor with her boy in her arms. “It’s okay, baby. Scott will help you.”
Diana was about to tell her that Scott would be right back when he rushed into the room.
“Hey, Trent. Let’s give you some of your favorite superhero’s special oxygen.” He kneeled next to the little boy with a small machine and a mask which he carefully placed over Trent’s mouth.
Diana stood back, entranced, never having seen the man in action other than video of the night of her rescue. According to the ones she’d seen, he’d had the same clear determination in his eyes as he did now. He might have been the only one, but he hadn’t cared what she’d been wearing that night, just that she would survive the fire. Her humiliation had blinded her until now, but watching him in action it was clear.
She didn’t know how he did it, how he remained so collected while Sally freaked out and Diana fast approached the freak-out zone. It became difficult to watch the child struggle to breathe, but Scott remained calm. Before long he had the little boy breathing evenly. A light mist hissed out of the machine and whatever it had in it was what Trent needed. The entire time, Scott spoke soft and encouraging words to the little boy, and Diana’s heart melted a little bit, watching this big bulky man kneeling next to someone so small and helpless.
After a few more minutes, Scott removed the mask. The boy seemed fine, and cuddled into his mother with a shy smile, high-fiving Scott. He walked them to the door, accepting a hug from Sally. Finally, the door shut and he turned back to Diana.
He smiled and moved towards her. “Where were we?”
No, this wasn’t the Scott she remembered. That boy didn’t seem to care much about other people as far as she could tell. But the man was another story. “You were so good with him.”
“It happens once every few months. His asthma isn’t well controlled.” Scott was so close to her now, and when his hands slid up her arms and pulled her in, she could admit—at least to herself—that this was what she wanted. Scott, right here, right now. The idea petrified her. She didn’t understand who he was any longer, or even who she was. She wasn’t the kind of girl who’d make out with someone she didn’t know well. Bradley was her first everything and she’d never moved beyond him.
Scott kissed her again and again, and like a fool she let him. It was so good—he was so good at this kissing thing he should get a special commendation.
Look, you can’t do this. Stop it right now. Are you listening, Diana? This is your heart speaking to you! We are so not ready for him.
She forced herself to pull away, breathless. “Scott?”
“Yeah?” He stopped kissing the hollow point in her neck to look at her.
“I know this would be good—”
“No,” he interrupted. “It would be off the charts.”
She believed him. “But maybe we should, um, slow things down.”
“Maybe.” He nuzzled her neck.
“I do like the way you kiss.”
“Right back at you.”
“But— I think we should stop now. It’s all going a little fast for me.”
“Yeah,” he said, the bedroom look in his eyes slowly shifting back to kitchen mode. He slowly released her. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you off.”
“It’s all right.” She bit at the cuticle of her nail. Probably not the most attractive move, but she couldn’t help the nervous habit. And he didn’t just make her nervous. He terrified her. “It’s just— before I came here, I’d been in a serious relationship that didn’t work out. And right now, I’m not ready… plus, you know I’m going back home at the end of the summer. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, you know, to …”
“You don’t have to say anything more, babe.” He tugged on a lock of her hair.
Not quite fair that he was being so good, letting her off the hook like this. It almost pissed her off a little bit. “I should probably be off men for a while.”
He winced. “Yeah?”
“Might be a good idea.” She grabbed her things before she changed her mind. “I’ve got a good start here on your interview.”
Scott’s deep voice stopped her in her tracks. “Wait.”
At the door, she turned ba
ck. “What?”
“You and me? Anytime you’re ready. Anytime.”
She stood there for a moment, acknowledging both the overt truth and flattery of those words. Then she flew out the door and ran most of the way back to Gran’s. She was a little out of breath this time, though for different reasons.
Gran was still up and waiting for her, standing in the kitchen in her housecoat. “I was just about to get to bed. Mandy called to check in on me. When I told her where you were, she said she’d talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay. I think I’ll go in my room and put all my notes together.” And my wits. And whatever brain cells I have left.
“You look flushed, dear. Are you feeling okay?”
Diana touched her cheeks. “I ran all the way back.”
“In those shoes?” Gran clucked her mouth disapprovingly.
Diana went into her bedroom, lay down on the bed and tried to take a deep cleansing breath. She’d probably never been kissed quite like she had been tonight in her entire sad and boring life. Bradley was such a wet kisser she might as well have been a sponge. He always asked if he could kiss her too, probably because he wasn’t all that great at reading social cues. It was sweet but also not sexy. Scott read social cues extremely well. He was smart enough to know he didn’t have to ask.
But she was an idiot.
She should have put up more walls, barriers, trenches, moats. She’d done fine when she’d first met him, holding on to her teenage bitterness, but he’d knocked down her few walls in no time at all. Too easy. She was supposed to be much tougher than this. Now she had more than one problem. How on earth was she supposed to write this article about real people? Fictional characters couldn’t get their feelings hurt no matter what she wrote about them.
A couple of years ago that was where her heart had been. She’d written her first novel during her MFA program, about a teenage girl growing up in Texas during World War II. She hadn’t thought about the book in a long time. Tried not to, anyway.
Not since she’d pitched it at a writers conference in New York City a year after graduation and had the agent of a major literary agency draw two circles on a pad of paper. One circle was the market, and the other teeny tiny circle way on the other side of the paper was her ‘lovely’ coming-of-age story. Then she’d patted Diana’s hand and told her to find another line of work.
Diana had burst into tears and ran into the men’s bathroom by accident. What was she supposed to do with the rest of her life if she couldn’t be a writer? A man dressed in a tweed suit had found her crying near the urinal, and suggested she grow a pair of balls. Not because she was in the men’s room (as he proceeded to kindly inform her) but because no one had the right to tell anyone else to give up on their dreams.
Mr. Tweed had been right.
Ever since she’d left that men’s room in New York City, she’d been trying to find her metaphorical testicles. Because no one would tell her what she could and couldn’t do.
Certainly not Bradley. He’d reminded her that she was an MFA graduate working in her mom’s bridal boutique. Neither publishers nor agents were exactly breaking down her door to get at her manuscript. She wasn’t going to be the next big ‘literary darling’. Face it, Bradley had said, and get a real job. Stop dreaming. When she’d reminded him of how she’d supported him through DeVry school so that he could become the next big tech mogul (which, she reminded him, he’d also failed to do) he’d found someone new.
It didn’t matter anymore. She hoped Bradley and Tiffany would be very happy someday in their Silicon Valley home with their Silicon Valley peeps.
As for her, she had to remember how to write about real people. Fast.
7
Saturday, Diana was up early and ready to attend the calendar shoot at the vineyard. She’d spent a few hours on her phone researching questions she might ask the firefighters and had a list ready. Hopefully, most of them would be easier to talk to than Scott had been. Either way, she’d looked forward to this. Having already felt Scott’s hard body up close and personal, she would now get a chance to see more of it.
Gran seemed shocked by the idea of the beefcake calendar, and said she’d pass on Diana’s offer to come along. Genevieve was expected by for a visit anyway, and Gran didn’t want to miss her. An hour before Diana was to leave, there was a knock on the front door and Diana went to open it.
Mandy stood there, an overnight bag with her. “Surprise!”
“What are you doing here?”
“Mandy!” Gran clapped her hands together. “Oh my goodness, how did I get to be so blessed? Two granddaughters at once. It’s just like old times.”
“Move aside, sister,” Mandy swept by Diana. “You think you can go to a firefighters’ calendar photo shoot and not take me with you? You almost got away with it.”
“What about Mom? How did she let you go?”
Mandy threw her suitcases down and hugged Gran. “Don’t even get me started. The new consultant Mom brought in thinks that gray is the new white. Florina De La Cruz is her name. Sounds about as fake as her French accent if you ask me. And I caught Mom trying to measure me the other day.”
“No. For a wedding dress?” It had happened to Diana the year she’d met Bradley.
She’d turned around to find Mom with the tape measure right behind Diana. When she’d asked Mom what she was doing she didn’t even try to lie.
“Just like with you, she didn’t even try to cover. She said she’d seen the perfect dress and wanted to know my measurements. I told her I was never getting married, and do you know what she did? She laughed at me!”
“Why would she do that?” Gran asked.
“You need to talk some sense into your daughter,” Mandy said, giving Gran a quick hug and moving into the kitchen. “She’s got weddings on the brain twenty-four seven.”
Mandy grabbed a soda from the fridge. “So when do we get to see the Man Candy?”
“I’m leaving in an hour. And you better not hold me up!”
Mandy threw Diana an I-wouldn’t-dream-of-it angelic smile. “Not a chance.”
An hour later, Diana and Mandy were on the way to the vineyard owned by Scott’s brother, Billy Turlock.
“Are you going to tell me about Scott or do I have to suffer in silence until I get to see him in the flesh?” Mandy asked when they were two minutes out of Gran’s carport.
“What do you want to know? You’ll get to see him in a few minutes.”
“I want to know what you’ve been doing hanging out with him. And—running? Did I hear Gran right?”
Diana took her eyes off the road to glare at Mandy. “You heard right and don’t you dare make fun of me. I’m trying to lose weight. Being here with Gran has mostly been a sedentary activity. Plus, the bakery here is really good. And according to the Internet, I’m fat.”
“Stop it. You’re a full bodied woman. Voluptuous.”
“That’s just another word for fat.”
“No one thinks you’re fat. Puh-leeze.”
But it only mattered was Diana thought, and it wouldn’t kill her to have a smaller ass.
She’d been driving around for twenty minutes and still had no idea where to find the vineyard. “I’m officially lost. Pull out your GPS and get us to this vineyard.”
Mandy plugged the address in and Siri instructed a left turn, and then a right. “You know, Scott could be your rebound guy.”
“Why do I need a rebound guy?” She turned right at the stop sign as instructed.
“The rebound guy is a good looking charmer type that’s not settling down material. You sort of cleanse your palate with the rebound guy.”
“Maybe you do. My palate is fine, thanks.” Siri instructed a left and Diana faced an empty field. “Seriously?”
A dead-end. Nice metaphor for her life. A few minutes later, Siri got them back on track and Diana turned on Hummingbird Lane, following the single lane road to the top of a small hill. There was an access parking lot and Diana
found a space and parked.
“What a view!” Mandy said as she got out of the car.
And it was a view indeed. A wide expanse of rolling hills filled with rows upon rows of vines. The green lush land and the terra cotta mansion that looked like a Villa reminded her of picturesque scenes of the Italian countryside. The heady scent of grapes clung to the hot July day.
She grabbed her bag and followed the group of people walking towards a cottage in the back. Diana spotted a pregnant blonde directing everyone. “Mr. January and Ms. February down here, everyone else up here.”
She noticed Diana approaching and waved her over.
“Hi, I’m Diana. And this is my sister, Mandy.”
“I’m Brooke Turlock. Nice to meet you both. Right this way to the photo shoot.” She led the way down a few steps to the cottage next to the larger manor house. “I used to live here.” Brooke pointed toward the cottage. She smiled dreamily and rubbed her large stomach. “Good times.”
“So I just go in there and watch the shoot?” Diana asked.
Brooke winked. “Tough job, but someone’s gotta do it. Right?”
Mandy inched forward. “I’m her assistant. I need to go in too. In case she needs assisting.”
“Of course,” Brooke said and waved them both in.
Inside, the photographer was setting up. There were cords lying on the ground in every direction, a large lamp, a white umbrella light, and several bottles of wine lined up on the floor.
Diana went over and introduced herself. “I’m writing the article for the website.” When Mandy pinched her again, Diana sighed and said, “And this is my sister, Mandy. My assistant.”
“Isn’t that great,” the photographer said, a man wearing a nose ring that made him look like a bull. “You write and you have an assistant. Meanwhile, I get to do everything. They give me an empty room and expect me to create magic. I’m only one person! I’m Evan, by the way.”
“I’ll help you,” Mandy said.
“You will? Great, but you might have to be in here all day helping me with make-up and lighting.”
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