So Good: A Ribbon Ridge Novel (Love on the Vine Book 1) (12 page)

“I…might be.” She picked up her glass and took another drink, then set it back down with a clack. “Never mind. This is a terrible conversation for us to have. Like I said earlier, we have a great working relationship. I should not be asking you for dating advice.”

He chuckled. “Is that what you were doing? Well, I would say you should do what makes you feel good. Just be clear about what you want going in.”

“That’s what you do?”

“Absolutely. I like to have fun, but there’s nothing permanent with me.”

She blinked at him. “Nothing? Ever?”

Not in eight years, and he didn’t see an end to his current mindset. “Nope.”

“Wow, that’s actually a little disturbing.”

“Is it? I know what I want, and if it doesn’t float someone’s boat, there’s no harm done.”

“I meant disturbing in that you don’t seem to miss having a significant other. But yeah, that shouldn’t be—it’s good to know you can be alone.” She gave him an intent but coy look. “Not that you’ve been alone. You’ve dated plenty of women whose boats were, I’m sure, well floated.”

He grinned. “You’re getting it now—alone, but not alone.”

A couple of guys who worked in sales at different wineries joined them. They all knew each other and visited for a few minutes before Brooke excused herself to use the restroom.

When she was gone, one asked, “How long have you and Brooke been dating?”

“We’re not.” Cam sipped his wine. “She’s distributing our wine.”

“Nice,” the other one said, nodding. “So you’re definitely not dating?”

Cam’s senses pricked at their interest. “Definitely not. But what do you care?”

The second one, Joe, lifted a shoulder. “Just wondered about her availability. I asked her out a while back, but she said she wasn’t dating. When I saw her with you, I assumed her status had changed.”

Status…as in whether she would date or not. It certainly seemed as though she was considering it. He could encourage Joe, but he didn’t want to. Man, he was a selfish bastard.

“I don’t know,” Cam said. “You could try asking her out again.”

“I might, thanks.”

Cam finished off his wine, suddenly ready to leave. But he wouldn’t go until Brooke came back. When she returned, she glanced toward his empty glass. “You having another?”

“Nah, I’m heading out.”

The other guys looked at her expectantly, and when Cam vacated his seat, Joe took it. A tiny crease formed between Brooke’s eyes for just a moment. She looked at Cam. “I think I’m going to take off too.” She smiled at Joe and Sam. “See you guys.”

They nodded at her. “See you, Brooke,” Joe said.

Cam swung by the bar, where Allen was now sitting, and thanked him for sharing his wine. Allen shook his hand and Brooke’s and restated how he was looking forward to seeing her Monday. On their way out, Cam caught Luke’s interested eye and shook his head.

“Did you want to go say hi to Luke?” Brooke asked as Cam opened the door for her.

“I talked to him earlier.”

“Ah.” She waved at Luke and smiled before she preceded Cam outside.

“Thanks for letting me leave with you,” she said. “You’ve proven an effective shield tonight.”

He laughed. “I’m happy to be your shield. Although don’t expect it to have a lasting effect. Joe asked if we were an item, and when I said no, he made it clear he was interested in asking you out. Again, apparently.”

She exhaled. “I see.”

“It’s your own fault for being so attractive.”

She cast him a side eye as they strolled down Main Street. “Is that right? What should I do, forgo makeup? Stop washing my hair?”

He doubted any of that would help. She was more than a pretty face—she was funny and fun. He had a great time with her. “You could try. Let me know how that works.”

“Or, I could just say that we’re an item. Why not? You’re not dating anyone. I’m not dating anyone. It would keep the vultures at bay.”

A laugh erupted from his chest. “They’re vultures now?”

She giggled. “Not that bad.”

“Do you really have a problem fending off interested guys?”

“Sometimes. Tonight was one of those times, I guess.”

“Because you look incredible.”

She walked in front of him and turned, taking a few backward steps. She smiled at him—that sexy, seductive little grin that made his motor purr. “Why, thank you.”

“Now you’re just being mean. You have to stop flirting with me, Brooke. I’m not a vulture, but I’m still a guy.” Who hadn’t had sex in a few months. He mentally counted and couldn’t quite come up with the last date. Three? Four?

She fell into step beside him as they turned onto Second. “Sorry. You’re just so fun to tease.”

“Well, you’re tempting the hell out of me. I like our working relationship, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about taking things a step further—keeping in mind my policy. Nothing long-term.”

They’d arrived at the door to the lofts. She turned toward him. “Okay, I get it. Don’t flirt with you unless I want it to go somewhere.”

He hadn’t said that, but maybe that was what he meant. He let his gaze dip over her. She did look incredible. And if she were any other woman, he’d invite her over.

She held her clutch purse in front of her and brought her gaze to his. “So…remember when I said you should ask me again?”

Oh damn, did she mean what he thought she meant? Now she was seriously fucking with him. “About kissing?” The question came out raspy. He cleared his throat.

“Yes. You should ask me again.”

He looked up and down the street, for the first time giving a shit if someone was watching. Why? Because he was suddenly agitated. Anxious. But in a good way. Anticipation curled through him.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

Her blue-green eyes shone with intent. “Oh, I mean it.” She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back under the cover of the doorway.

The force of her action propelled him forward until he was nearly pressing against her. He linked his fingers through hers. “You sure?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” She wrapped her free hand around his neck and tugged his head down.

“Never in a moment like this.” He brushed his lips against hers and slanted his head.

Her fingers curled into his neck, and she arched up into him. Her mouth opened beneath his, and the kiss took off like a rocket.

Their tongues met, eager, almost desperate. Or maybe that was their hands and bodies. She pulled him so that he was snug against her. He let go of her hand and gripped her hip. Her hand splayed against his side, the heat of her palm blistering through his shirt.

Her fingers stabbed into his hair, holding his head as she did ridiculous things to his mouth and tongue. Lights danced behind his closed eyes. He felt every inch of her—the press of her breasts against his chest, the pulse of her wrist against his neck, the push of her pelvis along his. He wanted to bring her even closer so that he could nestle his cock between her thighs.

She ended the kiss to nibble on his lips and drag her mouth and tongue along his jaw, then kissed him again. Holy hell, he was burning for her.

The next time she pulled away, she leaned back against the wall beside the door, her breath coming in heavy pants. His did the same. “Brooke.” The word came out dark and hard. Needful. “I should go.”

She looked up at him, her gorgeous aqua eyes dilated and so damn seductive. He exerted every bit of willpower he had and stepped back, heedless of his raging erection. There was absolutely no help for it. “Unless you want me to stay.” He hadn’t meant to say it. He was trying so damned hard to be a gentleman.

“I do. But…you’re right that you should go.” She blinked, and it dampened a bit of the electricity zinging between them. “I’m probably going to regret this,” she muttered.

He knew he would. “Good night.”

He turned and dashed across the street before what little common sense he had left completely abandoned him.

Chapter Eight

B
rooke watched Cam cross the street, her legs shaking and her heart thundering in her chest. Her brain forced her body to turn and go into the building. But even parts of her brain were rebelling, telling her to go after him.

When was the last time she’d been kissed like that?

She tried to think, but her mind was mush. Okay, not that mushy. She wasn’t sure that Darren had ever made her feel that good. Overwhelmed in the best possible way. Absolutely quivering with need. She almost turned and went back outside.

Pushing herself to the elevator, she jabbed her finger onto the Up button. Waiting, she pulled her phone from her clutch and texted her older sister, Rhonda.

I just walked away from a totally hot guy. Give me a reason I should go spend the night with him.

The response came almost immediately.

Rhonda: Because you SHOULD. GO NOW.

Brooke: That’s not a good reason.

Rhonda: You haven’t had sex in years.

Brooke: He’s a player.

Rhonda: So? You aren’t marrying him. Go have great sex.

Brooke: It’s been a long time…

Rhonda: OMG!

Brooke smiled, hearing her sister’s voice yelling at her.
 

Rhonda: You’re looking for excuses. If you’re asking me for permission, you already want to. So go do it. Will you regret it?

The elevator chimed, but Brooke didn’t walk inside. Instead, she crossed to the other side of the lobby and stared at her phone. Would she regret it? Maybe. They did work together, after all. Things could very well be awkward.
 

Or they could be amazing, and she’d feel better than she had in years. Just kissing him had made her positively woozy with want. She’d been fine with her solitary, celibate life, but right now she thought she might wilt if she didn’t find satisfaction.

With Cam.

Nothing else would do.

She tapped into her phone again. What about my…problem?

Rhonda: What problem?

Brooke frowned at the phone. Duh, my infertility.

Rhonda: Srsly?! You want to have sex with this guy, not start a family! You said he was a player!
 

Brooke watched the dots on her phone, which indicated Rhonda was typing. And it was a long text.

You deserve a night of fun. You actually deserve way more than that, but whatever. Please let yourself out of grief jail or whatever the hell you’ve been doing the past few years and LIVE. I can’t even imagine why you’re hesitating. But then I don’t understand a lot of your choices.
 

Like divorcing Darren because they couldn’t have children. Only it had been more than that. The fertility problems had sent Brooke into a tailspin, and she’d pushed everyone away, especially Darren, who hadn’t been that devastated by her inability to carry a child. She’d been so immersed in her sadness that he’d started screwing one of the legal assistants at the law firm where he was in charge of IT. She’d never told anyone about that. It had seemed like her fault, but suddenly, in this moment, she realized it wasn’t.

Brooke: If you’re talking about Darren, I had a perfectly good reason for leaving him. He was screwing that woman he’s still with.

Rhonda: WTF?! Why didn’t you ever say anything?

Brooke: I just didn’t.

Because she’d been too locked up in “grief jail,” as Rhonda put it. Everything had felt like her fault, like her inadequacy. So she’d taken it as such.

Rhonda: If you don’t go get laid right now, I’m driving up there and kicking your ass tomorrow.

Brooke: How will you know? Apparently I’m a pretty good liar.

Rhonda: I want proof. Send me a pic of his boxers or something.

Brooke giggled. She had a tiny bit of a wine buzz, so this idea was probably funnier—and more stupid—than it ought to be.
 

Brooke: Okay.

Rhonda: Okay, you’re doing it? YESSSSSS! Go get him!!!!

Brooke rolled her eyes with a grin and stuffed the phone back in her clutch. Then she turned and left the building, barely looking both ways across the sleepy street before she hurried over to his townhouse. The sun had gone down behind the buildings, but it wasn’t fully set so that there was a warm, golden glow over everything.