I sucked in a breath of air that felt like I was inhaling razor blades, my face flushing with heat. The entire vineyard suddenly went quiet, not even the flutter of a leaf could be heard. I looked around: Shane’s and Vanessa’s expressions, shocked; Charlotte’s expression, pained. Grayson was still glaring at Shane, but when he saw that they were all looking at me, he turned his gaze in my direction, his expression seeming to clear momentarily as he became aware of what he’d just said. “Kira—” he started to say, but I turned around and ran, away from the looks, away from the judgment, away from the shame and searing pain. Away.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Grayson
I was a damn bastard. Not in the way my stepmother had often tossed it at me. In the way that meant I was a total ass. A jealous ass. Shane had been right. I’d walked up on him and Kira hugging and I’d lost my damn mind. I’d shut myself off completely since Shane and Vanessa had arrived, even ignoring Kira after I’d gone to her room and tried to sleep with her like a drunken fool. I could only blame myself if she went looking for comfort and companionship with Shane. Shane, who had always been the easygoing charmer. Shane, who had never disappointed anyone.
I don’t want you. I don’t want you at all.
No one wants you. No one ever has.
Of course she felt comfortable and safe with Shane—who didn’t? I felt another spear of jealousy, and I gritted my teeth. The possessiveness I’d felt when I’d seen Kira and Shane embracing had thrown me over the edge. I’d watched them over the past week, seen the way they strolled around the property, talking, even laughing. Something that felt close to despair swelled in my chest. Jesus, I needed to get ahold of myself. What was I jealous of anyway? She’d been willing to come to my bed—even if that was off the table now. What else did I want? Was I upset I’d sabotaged that for myself just like I seemed to sabotage everything good in my life? Or was it really just because Shane had stolen Vanessa from me? I hadn’t let myself think too much about it since they’d been here—hadn’t wanted to explore any of that. And so I’d simply shut down.
And then even worse, in some idiotic effort to prove I wasn’t jealous—and perhaps to hurt Kira too, I acknowledged that much—I’d exposed the truth of our marriage in a cruel, heartless way. The deep hurt and humiliation I’d seen in her eyes had sent guilt crashing over me. I’d become yet another man in her life using her as the scapegoat. Fuck. And then she’d run.
I turned the other way, heading down another path to find her so I could try to make it right after I’d left Shane, Vanessa, and Charlotte gaping after me. What a fucking mess this was. What a fucking mess I was. I felt like everything I’d been holding back all week was swirling inside me, coming to a boiling head.
What in the actual hell had happened to me?
I’d met Kira Dallaire, that’s what had happened to me.
I spotted her out in the south field, looking as if she was…collecting apricots off the ground. Was she holding them in the bottom of her shirt? For a second, I just stood and watched her as she hopped among the fruit, bending and collecting, bringing a piece of fruit to her nose now and again. What was she up to anyway? I tilted my head, watching the bewildering sight. I’d expected to find her sitting somewhere with her shoulders hunched or perhaps curled in the fetal position under a bush. Maybe I should have known by now only to expect the unexpected when it came to Kira.
Something pulled tight inside me—why did my aggravating wife have to fascinate me even as my guts were churning with too many emotions to name? I began walking toward her, approaching slowly, and by the time I got to the edge of where hundreds of overly ripe apricots littered the ground, she had ten or fifteen pieces of fruit weighing down her blousy shirt.
“Kira,” I said as calmly as I could, “what are you doing?”
“Collecting fruit for Charlotte’s jam—the jam you love so much, the jam that makes you happy. I’ve been meaning to do it all week, but what with organizing your office and planning a party so it might be easier for you to rejoin Napa society, entertaining your family, and trying to figure out how to sidestep certain questions from Shane and Vanessa—which, come to think of it, I’d like to thank you for just blurting out the truth because that’s one stressor off my plate. I can’t tell you how relieved I am not to have to lie anymore—”
“Kira,” I said, moving closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that through.”
“Plus,” she went on as if she hadn’t heard me, “all these apricots lying on the ground? It’s such a waste of food! There are people who don’t have enough to eat—right here in Napa even. And here’s all this fruit almost going to waste. It’s unconscionable, really.”
“Kira,” I repeated, moving closer still.
She whirled toward me, her hair hanging long and wavy down her back, wisps and curls framing her face. Her eyes were bright green and stormy, bringing to mind a tropical tempest about to make landfall. About to wreak havoc. Her cheeks were flushed, and I could see she was so filled with anger she was having trouble catching her breath. The barest glimpse of her flat stomach was visible where her shirt had been drawn up in a makeshift basket, heavy with fruit. My breath caught as I took her in. She was the most beautifully wild thing I had ever seen.
I knew I should be groveling and—God, I knew she deserved as much—but after days and days of keeping Kira at arm’s length and seeing her now standing in front of me, all fire and life, I lost the control I’d so carefully held on to this past week.
I strode toward her as her eyes widened, and she dropped the fruit collected in her shirt, soft apricots making wet plopping sounds as they splattered on the ground at her feet. She was mine. The jealousy I’d felt when I’d seen her in Shane’s arms flared again as I pulled her to my body. I suddenly realized how desperately I wanted her, how these past days had been like living without light and I felt jealous all over again. I didn’t want to feel that way. I’d tried so hard never to feel that way again. Vulnerable. Easily hurt. I wanted her to soothe the wild agony raging inside, to reassure the wounded part of my heart that she thought there was something worthy about me, to tell me that she wanted me too. But I had no idea how to put those feelings into words, didn’t know how to ask, especially when I had so much to apologize for. And so I claimed her the only way I knew how. I pulled her to me and pressed my lips to hers.
I had only planned to kiss her once and then let her go, but the taste of her sent a flame licking from low in my belly. I grasped for her, unable to tear my mouth from hers. She fought me for a few brief moments, both of our arms scrabbling around each other as I sought to pull her close and she fought to pull away. But then she let out a small sob and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me back with passion. I licked at her tongue, the taste of her soothing the ache inside, bringing me simultaneously a loss of control and the first small taste of peace I’d had for what felt like so very long. Maybe for a lifetime. Kira, Kira, Kira.
Before I had time to sink into the kiss, Kira pushed at my chest, stumbling back several steps, her eyes filled with renewed hurt. “Kira,” I said, noting the pleading tone in my own voice, “I’m sorry. Please come here. I’m asking nicely.”