Home > Books > Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(65)

Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(65)

Author:Melanie Harlow

She harrumphed, and that was it.

“I confessed and apologized, didn’t I? Shouldn’t that count for something? You never would have known if I hadn’t said anything.”

“Because I’m a fool, right?”

Shit, that came out wrong. “No! That’s not what I meant. I’m just trying to show you that I told the truth voluntarily. I didn’t get caught.”

“Good for you. But I’m fresh out of gold stars.”

“Tell me what I can say or do to make it up to you,” I begged.

“You can stop talking.”

Exhaling, I gave it a couple minutes and tried again. “I didn’t think you’d be so mad.”

That earned me a sharp look. “I guess you don’t know me very well.”

“Yes, I do, Ellie! I know you better now than I ever have.”

“Ha!”

“I know how badly you wanted the Tastemaker thing, not for your own ego, but for the good of your family business. I know how disappointed you were with the way things turned out. I know you put your heart and soul into everything you do at Abelard because you love it and you never want to leave it. I know you feel like you’ll never be as perfect as your mother expects you to be—which you’re wrong about, but I’ll just shut up about that—and I know what you look like naked, what your skin feels like against mine, how you like to be touched, and what sounds you make when you have an orgasm, so don’t tell me I don’t know you very well!” I’d managed all of that in nearly one breath and felt my heart beating hard inside my chest.

In response, Ellie reached over and turned up the radio.

I turned it down. “At least say you hate me or something.”

“I hate you. Feel better?”

“No,” I admitted.

She stared straight ahead and sighed. “You know what? I don’t hate you. I feel nothing, which is even better.”

I glanced at her. Her profile was set hard.

A minute later, when she turned up the radio again, I didn’t touch it.

When we pulled up at Abelard, it was just after ten. Someone had been there with a plow already, and most of the lot was cleared, a huge mountain of snow over on one side. I pulled up close to the kitchen and turned off the engine.

Immediately, Ellie reached for the door handle and I reached over, placing a hand on her leg.

“Don’t,” she said, pushing my hand off her.

“Are you going to give me the silent treatment forever? We have to work together, Ellie.”

“Only until you leave, and the sooner the better.”

“Even if I take that show offer, I won’t go until April.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Fine. I can be professional until you go. But that’s it. We’re not friends.”

The pit in my stomach widened. “Why can’t we be friends?”

“We’re too different, Gianni.” Her voice had lost its edge. “What happened at the motel was a mistake.”

For some reason, hearing her say that gutted me a little. “So you regret it?”

She took a second to think, which made her answer even worse. “Yes. I do.”

I took my hand off her leg and let her go.

Ellie and I unloaded the car without speaking another word to each other. When it was empty, she carried the storage cases of dirty wineglasses down to the tasting room, and I brought the heavy box of unopened bottles. The silence was painful, but I knew nothing good would come of trying to soften her up today—she was still boiling mad. I needed to give her anger time to reduce to a slow simmer. Then maybe we could talk more reasonably.

It wasn’t that I needed her to love me or anything, but I hated the thought that she regretted everything that had happened between us. That she’d look at me with resentment for the next couple months. That she thought I’d taken advantage of her. That it was all a joke to me. A game.

In the middle of unpacking the bottles, I looked over at her. She was pulling glasses from the storage case with her back to me. Her hair tumbled down in messy waves and caused an ache in my chest I wasn’t sure I’d ever experienced before. I took a breath, ready to say her name, kneel at her feet, and beg forgiveness—but it was someone else’s voice that broke the silence.

“Ellie!” Winnie came rushing into the tasting room. “You’re back!”

Ellie turned and hugged her friend. “I’m back.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Winnie studied her friend’s face for a moment, and some kind of communication passed back and forth between them. Then she turned to me with a friendly smile. “Hey, Gianni.”

 65/108   Home Previous 63 64 65 66 67 68 Next End