Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“My dad was like that too, and then after the heart attack two years ago, he started taking his health more seriously. He got on the right medications, started exercising, eating better . . . he’s like a new man. With a new girlfriend.”
I smiled, stirring the sauce. “Anyway, my mom said it’s just not the time to take on such a big, expensive risk.”
“You think it’s about the money?”
“Mostly.” I turned the heat off beneath the pot. “But she also mentioned the emotional risk. She brought up how depressed I was after New York. I know it was hard for them to see me like that.”
“Sure, but she can’t protect you from ever making a wrong move or being hurt,” Dash argued. “That’s part of life.”
“I know. I just don’t want to upset them. Here, taste this.” I lifted the spoon from the sauce and blew on it, then held it out.
He slurped it up. “Damn, that’s good.”
I smiled. “Thanks. Family recipe. This was the first thing I ever learned to cook on my own.”
“Your dad taught you?”
I nodded, and suddenly my eyes filled with tears. Dash set down his knife, came over, and wrapped me in his arms.
“Hey, it’s okay. Everything will be okay.” He kissed my temple. “I promise.”
I circled his waist with my arms and buried my face in his strong, sturdy chest. “Sorry. I was just thinking about all the time he spent with me in the kitchen as a kid. I want him to be there for my kids too, you know?”
“He will be.” He stroked my back.
Eyes closed, I inhaled the scent of him, which mingled deliciously with basil and garlic and fresh bread. “Thanks. You always make me feel better. I wish we didn’t live so far apart.”
“I’m not leaving yet, Sugar. I’ve got another two weeks.”
“I know.” But I didn’t like thinking about any kind of deadline or expiration date. I just wanted to be with him while I could.
Even if every kiss, every touch, every night together would make the goodbye worse.
The following Wednesday, Dash knocked on my front door just before four o’clock.
“Jesus,” he said when I pulled it open, his eyes wandering over me from head to toe. “You look fucking amazing.”
“Thank you.” I’d torn my closet apart looking for the right outfit—was this dress too dressy? Was that top too cropped? Did this skirt flatter my ass?—and in the end decided on a short black off-the-shoulder dress with long sleeves that hugged my curves but wasn’t obscenely tight. I’d twisted my hair up and left a few loose strands around my face, and on my feet were strappy black sandals that might have been a little summery for the cool temperature but I didn’t care.
And judging from the look on Dash’s face, he didn’t give a damn either.
He put his hands on my waist. “Is it too late to change my mind about staying in tonight?”
I laughed as I pulled the door shut behind me. “Yes. You look good too, by the way.” He wore a charcoal suit and a blue shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. His jaw was freshly shaved, and his hair had the perfect tousle to it.
“Thank you.” He glanced down. “I had to wear my wedding suit because it was the only nice thing I brought home. You’re going to get tired of looking at me in it.”
“Not likely,” I teased, as he took my hand and led me off the porch. “But I’ll let you know.”
The scenery on the drive to Abelard Vineyards was stunning. Through the passenger window of Dash’s car, my eyes drank in the gently rolling hills of Old Mission Peninsula, which sloped down to the sparkling blue water. Surrounding us were blossoming cherry orchards, lush green forest, and rows of grapevines. Abelard was one of several wineries on the peninsula, built by a French American named Lucas Fournier and his wife, Mia. Their daughter was now married to Gianni Lupo.
“He’s got two kids now,” said Dash. “And his wife is pregnant. I can’t believe it.”
“You don’t want kids?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someday, but I don’t feel qualified at this point in my life. There’s too much I want to do first. I think Abelard should be coming up on the left here shortly.”
A moment later, we turned onto a tree-lined gravel driveway that curved around in front of a gorgeous stone villa that looked like it had been plucked right out of the French countryside. Parking for Etoile was around to the side, and I stared, slack-jawed, at the château as we pulled around it. It looked like a fairy tale.
When we got out of the car, I inhaled. The air was just as seductive as the view, perfumed with spring flowers. Dash came around and took my arm, and I smiled up at him, grateful for the assistance on the gravel in my heels.