Grayson's Vow (43)
Grayson didn’t answer immediately, but I saw his shoulders tense. “Vanessa is my brother’s wife.”
“Oh.” His brother had married his girlfriend—the woman he’d been planning to marry—while he was in prison? Ouch. I barely suppressed a wince, imagining what that must have been like for him. No wonder he didn’t speak to his brother anymore. No wonder he was so damn moody. Not that I wanted to make excuses for him, but he carried the weight of betrayal. And that was a heavy load to bear. “I’m sorry, Grayson,” I said.
He nodded once, acknowledging my words, and then started the truck and pulled out of our parking spot. The ride home was mostly quiet, the radio playing softly in the background. When we pulled around the fountain and stopped in front of his house, Grayson turned to me. “Do you want a drink? I happen to own a bottle of wine that I have on expert authority is richly layered and exuberant.” His mock snooty smile went serious. “One drink to make up for being ambushed at dinner?”
I smiled. What could one drink hurt? “Richly layered, you say? Exuberant too? How can I resist?”
He laughed softly. Grayson came around the truck and offered me his hand and then I followed my husband inside his house.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grayson
We were sitting on semi-rusted lounge chairs on the patio, a glass of wine in each of our hands, sipping in comfortable silence as we looked out over the covered pool—most likely murky and sludge filled beneath. It wasn’t the most romantic location and I’d had every intention of trying to seduce her tonight. But after what happened at the restaurant, I wasn’t exactly feeling very enthusiastic about wooing her. Mostly, I felt humiliated. “You know what we should do?” Kira suddenly asked, leaning forward abruptly and taking me by surprise.
“I have a feeling nothing good ever follows those words when they’re coming from your mouth,” I said.
“Funny. No, really. It’s a good idea.”
“Okay, what?”
“We should throw a party!”
I leaned my head back on the chair as I watched her. “A party? Why in the world would we do that?”
“Well,” she said, sitting up completely and swinging her legs to the side so she was facing me, “it seems to me the town is…leery of you right now. It certainly couldn’t hurt the Hawthorn Winery’s image to obtain a better social standing in your own community. Am I right?”
“Probably.” She was right. If I was going to have a fighting chance of bringing my family business back to life, being the black sheep of wine country wasn’t going to help. Still… “How would a party help exactly?”
“It would just be a start,” she said, looking thoughtful. “But word spreads, you know. If we invited some of the more influential people in the community and they felt welcomed by you, they’d be more likely to extend the same courtesy your way. Gossip has a way of making people forget that there’s a human being behind the story. Inviting people here would remind them of that. I think, innately, people want to understand and forgive.”
“You give people too much credit.”
She appeared to consider that, a small wrinkle appearing between her eyes. “Maybe. But I really do believe it. I think it’s true more often than it’s not.”
After taking a sip of wine, I said, “You must be familiar with gossip.”
She let out an agreeable chuff that ended in a small sigh. “Most of my life has been spent in the public eye.” Her eyes slid away, and she appeared troubled. I had the sudden instinct to reach out to her. Strange. Unfamiliar. I looked away, taking another sip of the buttery white wine, savoring the hints of butterscotch and pear.
“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject, “how will people be reminded I’m a human being? I thought you considered me more dragon than human.”
“True.” She smiled. “You’d have to curb your reptilian tendencies for one night. Do you think you could manage it?”
“Maybe.” I chuckled, studying the shadows and highlights of her features in the dim light of the moon and the few house lights still on behind us. “Seriously though, Kira, it’s a decent idea, but I don’t have time to plan a party.”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. I’d do it. It will keep me out of trouble. We could do a theme. Maybe a tropical luau or a masquerade ball. I’ll think of something perfect.” She grinned, and I got a flash of that witchy, little dimple.
My heartbeat stuttered, but I couldn’t help the small chuckle that found its way up my throat at her clear excitement. “You’re supposed to be helping me organize my books to stay out of trouble.”
“I can do both.”
I sighed. “Fine. Just wait until we get the check, please, to start spending money neither of us has yet.”
“I will. Well, except for invitations. I’ll pay for those. Do I have your permission to pick a date?”
“Go ahead. I can assure you I don’t have any social plans on the calendar.”
A few moments of silence settled between us. The mild night air was fragrant with nearby roses, the flavor of the wine crisp on my tongue, the rustle of the trees whispered all around, and the iridescent mist floated in the grapevines beyond. I closed my eyes, relishing the assorted sensations, wondering when I’d lived in the moment just as I was now. Have you ever?