Sharon scowled, pressing her lips together. “I’m glad I never voted for that man. In fact, I’d like to kick his ass.”
“It’s okay. It’s taken care of.” I looked at Grayson beside me. “Sharon Murphy, this is Grayson Hawthorn.” I purposefully didn’t offer an explanation of our relationship. Sharon eyed me suspiciously but held her hand out to Grayson and smiled warmly at him. “We can’t stay long, Sharon, but I wanted to write a check. I talked to Carlos about the situation with funding.”
“A check? Really, Kira? We were prepared to close the doors until the grant comes through.”
“Well, now you don’t have to.”
Sharon blew out a big breath of relief and hugged me again. “You have such a huge heart, sweet girl. Bless you.” With tears shimmering in her eyes, Sharon turned to Grayson. “Would you like a tour of our facility? Kira, there are a few kids you know outside. They’d love it if you went and said hi.”
I glanced at Grayson, who was looking around the facility I’d spent so much time in. It was so strange to see him there; it felt like two distant worlds colliding. “Do you mind?”
He shook his head. “No, go ahead.”
Fifteen minutes later I’d written out the check and was outside playing a game of tag with the kids. I looked up, laughing breathlessly and trying in vain to control the hair wildly flying all around my face, and caught Grayson’s eye. A small boy named Matthew tagged me and shrieked with delight and I laughed again, high-fiving him for his stealth moves. Grayson was standing just outside the door, a small smile on his face as he watched our game. I felt momentarily embarrassed that I’d been so involved in child’s play and went jogging over to him, calling goodbye to the kids.
“Hey,” I said, attempting to catch my breath.
“Hey, yourself. Looked like you were having fun.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. They’re great kids. Ready to go?”
He nodded. “I can see why you’re so supportive of this place. It seems like they do great work.”
“They do. Not only do they make meals for the people in the area who are homeless, but they help them apply for services too. Most of the kids here have parents who work and nowhere to go after school. The center helps them with their homework and provides a safe place where they’re looked after and also have friends to play with. If not for the center, many of these kids would be targeted by gangs or offered drugs. There’s no telling how many lives they improve.”
His eyes lingered on me for a moment. “I can see why you’re a supporter.”
I nodded and his eyes moved to my cheek, a frown appearing, before he looked away. It still bothers him that I was hurt.
After saying goodbye to Sharon, we got on the road and headed back home. To my temporary home, I reminded myself. And yet, I was excited at the prospect of returning to my small cottage and seeing Charlotte, Walter, Virgil, and José, and sweet Sugar Pie Honey Bunches. The emotion concerned me slightly too. I was becoming attached to Hawthorn Vineyard, but it wasn’t my home. In fact, I’d be leaving there in a matter of weeks. Although Grayson had offered me the option to stay longer, I now knew that would only make things harder. I’d relented and been physical with him, beyond mere kissing, and while I didn’t regret it, I knew it would only make our parting difficult for me—even if in some small measure. I’d meant what I said to Charlotte—where my body went, my heart tended to follow, and I suspected that would be the case here. Perhaps it already was. I’d never let Grayson know it, of course, but I knew it was the truth.
But…now that the damage was done, was there really any reason not to enjoy him while I could? At least we’d gone into this honestly. It wasn’t going to be a surprise when things ended. Perhaps I’d leave Grayson with my heart slightly bruised. But wasn’t a slightly bruised heart worth the electricity we created together? I shivered just remembering the way he’d touched me the night before, the way he’d seemed to know my body so well.
“Cold?” he asked, putting his hand in front of the vent to test the temperature of the air.
“Maybe a little,” I said, trying to explain why I’d shivered.
The ride went quickly, with us chatting mostly about mundane topics. I knew for myself I’d had enough heavy with what had happened at my father’s house and then telling Grayson my painful story at the hotel.
“Oh,” I said when we were about half an hour into the drive, “I forgot to mention your party has a theme.”
“My party…” he repeated. “What’s the theme?”
“Well, I thought about the first thing I said about your house when you took me on a tour.”
He glanced over at me, obviously thinking. “That it was the lair of a dragon?”
“No, I said that about the maze.”
His lip quirked. “Ah, right. You’ll have to remind me what you said about the house.”
“I said it looked like a fairy-tale castle.”
“Okay…”
I laughed. “The theme will be a fairy-tale masquerade,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Perfect, right? And the date is two weeks away. I circled it on the calendar in the kitchen and in your office.”
“Two weeks? Will anyone even show up with such short notice?”
“They’ll be even more likely to show up. Planning it with such little notice sends the message we don’t care whether they’re there or not. They’ll be intrigued. The whole town will come.” Hopefully.
Grayson chuckled. “Okay. I’ll save Party Psychology 101 to you.”
“Plus, I have limited time to make my mark on your life,” I reminded him.
“Oh, you’ve made your mark, Kira.”
I chuckled softly. “I mean a positive mark. Something lasting,” I mused, thinking about all the ways I hoped my plans for the party would benefit him for the long term.
He glanced at me for several beats and then looked back to the road. A small smile played on his lips, but he didn’t comment.
When we arrived back in Napa, it was just after noon. Grayson took our bags out of his truck and started for the house. “I’m going to put these in the foyer. Why don’t you come down to the winemaking facility with me and see what you’ve invested in?” He shot a charming smile over his shoulder, squinting into the sunshine, and my stomach flipped. God, he was gorgeous.
“Okay.” I was looking forward to seeing the winemaking facility. I’d lived here for weeks now and had never been invited inside that mysterious building where Grayson seemed to work constantly. I was eager to find out what was inside.
He was back outside a minute later, telling me it appeared Charlotte and Walter were out and they must have taken Sugar Pie with them. I accompanied him down the hill, past the lush-smelling rose bushes and small white flowers that were both sweet and woody. The scents mingled, and I inhaled a deep breath, sighing. “It smells so good right here.”
“Roses and hawthorn flowers,” he said, but his expression had turned grim. Why? “My stepmother planted them years ago when she was pregnant with Shane. Charlotte told her the rose symbolizes balance—the flower is the beauty and the contrasting thorns are a reminder that love can be painful. The hawthorn flowers are obviously for our name. They’re the last things she ever planted on the property.”