For the first time in years, I avoided the garden. If I could have avoided people too, I would have. And that wasn’t like me. I was a true extrovert. Interacting with employees and customers energized me and kept my mind occupied. I didn’t dwell on upsetting things when I had wine flights to prepare and recommendations to give. I loved meeting new people and hearing about their lives while they sampled Conrad’s best reserves. And the days I could encourage a stodgy jet-setter dressed in designer chic to drop the pretentious wine connoisseur act and belt out a popular show tune were some of my favorites. My job suited me perfectly. I could be campy, silly, and fun but still be a badass business owner who knew which regions grew the best grapes for a classy California Pinot.

I relied heavily on my theatric nature to get through Sunday. Monday wasn’t as easy. It was ghostly quiet in the wine tasting room. Too quiet. I left Danny, Ryan, and Lauren in charge of the bar and gift shop and went upstairs to my office to “catch up on paperwork.” It didn’t sound professional to tell them I planned to curl up on the chaise next to my window, reading romance novels and drinking endless cups of tea. I did the same thing Tuesday and Wednesday.

Well, I tried to anyway. They were on to me.

I glanced at my cell to check the time and looked up to find all eyes on me from the other side of the bar.

“What’s wrong?” I asked innocently.

“Nothing. Um…Wes needs some help in the warehouse. I’m gonna head out,” Danny said.

He paused to shrug his jacket on and whispered something to Ryan that sounded like “…should say something. Maybe he’ll talk to Wes.”

I shot them an irritated look but was saved from replying when my phone buzzed in my hand. I paced to the window and answered the call without checking the screen.

“Hello.”

“Hi. How are you?”

It took a moment for me to recognize the deep voice on the line. And when I did, I wasn’t exactly excited. Levi was the last person I wanted to talk to.

“I’m well. And you?” My tone was cool and detached. Not unfriendly, per se, but I certainly channeled a “Couldn’t this be done in a text?” vibe loud and clear.

Levi chuckled. “Good. I just wanted to hear your voice to make sure you’re okay.”

I eyed my friends warily before moving to the lounge area. My heart thundered in my chest. I hadn’t felt…anything at all since Saturday night. I’d been dull and listless and so unfabulous, I could barely stand my own company. But suddenly my pulse was racing. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it couldn’t be good. However, Levi had been patient and kind the other night. He deserved a modicum of respect in turn. I folded my free arm around my waist and studied the embers in the fireplace while I chose my words carefully.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

He snorted. “That’s what your text said. I didn’t trust the tone though, so I figured I’d call.”

“The tone?”

“Yeah. Text tones and email tones are a science I don’t get. You think you’re writing a simple ‘How’s it going?’ but then you get a ‘Fine’ in return. ‘Fine’ has got to be the worst reply ever. It can mean anything. It’s so neutral and bland, it’s practically a verbal middle finger.”

I huffed in amusement. “That’s ridiculous. ‘Fine’ means ‘fine.’ ”

“Nah, I’m not convinced. I think it’s right up there with ‘whatever’ and let’s be real, ‘whatever’ is the ultimate ‘fuck you.’ ”

This time I laughed outright and fell gracelessly into one of the high-back leather chairs. I kicked my pink-feathered slippers off and curled my long legs under me in an attempt to get comfortable. His voice was soothing and cheerful and yes…comforting.

“Well, I am fine. Thank you for checking. I appreciate it. How’s LA?” I asked conversationally.

“Fine.”

“Funny man. Give me three adjectives to describe your sojourn in Tinseltown, and then let me be. I’m very busy, you know,” I said haughtily.

“I know you are. Um, let’s see. Trafficky, exasperating, and…beautiful.”

“Just the way I remember, then. Have you reconciled with your ex and rehired the star chef?”

Levi grumbled an obscenity. “No to both. Thank God. But I’ve had a few good meetings and I’ve been mulling over some ideas, so it hasn’t been a total waste of time.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. Hey, what are you doing Saturday?”

“Working,” I replied automatically.

“I meant at night. We should talk about—”

“No.” I sat up and clutched at the armrest then glanced back to be sure I wasn’t in danger of being overheard. Ryan was pouring wine for a middle-aged couple while Lauren dried wineglasses beside him. The coast was clear. I refocused on the fire and bit my bottom lip. “No, we shouldn’t. Thanks for calling. Enjoy LA and—”

“Hang on. I wasn’t going to say what you thought I was going to say.”

I furrowed my brow. “Oh. Then what did you want to talk about?”

“Barbra. Did you know she’s from Brooklyn?”

I chuckled and sank back into the chair. I had no idea what he was up to, but there was no harm in playing along. “Someone has been Googling again,” I singsonged.

“Yeah, well…I was told I’m the world’s worst gay, and I’m not gonna lie.…It kinda stung, so I did some research.”

“Whoever would say such a cruel thing?” I teased.

“You.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Not directly but the critique had something to do with not knowing my diva culture, which inadvertently leads to giving off the wrong signals in social situations. Ring any bells?”

I bit my lip as I studied the embers. “Not at all. But if it’s true, it sounds like a serious problem. How is Googling Barbra going to help you?”

“No clue. I just don’t want you to hang up on me,” he said.

“Are you flirting with me again, Levi? I’m having a difficult time discerning your tone.”

Levi snickered. “I can’t read you either. Let’s FaceTime. I’ll call you back.”

“No. I’m working and—”

He hung up.

Then called back two seconds later via FaceTime. I stared at the screen in dismay. I gave him credit for persistence, but I wasn’t answering this time. I pocketed my cell and moved back to the bar.

“Your phone’s ringing,” Lauren said as she pulled a wineglass from the dishwasher.

“It’ll stop.”

It didn’t. Correction. It stopped and then started again. And again. I mumbled an apology to the couple at the bar when the incessant buzzing interrupted Ryan’s spiel about the bold, rich character of our Cabernet reserve. I hurried to silence my cell but at the last second, I changed my mind.

“I’ll be right back.” I grabbed my coat from the hook near the archway and slipped it on before opening the door to the herb garden. It was a beautiful day. Blue skies and fluffy clouds but it was still chilly. I walked down the gravel path away from the shade of the olive trees then pushed Accept. “Levi, I—”

“Wow. It’s a nice day there. You look good,” he said cheerfully.

He did too. Really good. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his beard was thicker—like he’d skipped shaving for the past few days. The ruggedly casual look suited him, and though I’d never claimed to be a fan of plaid flannel anything, his blue button-down shirt complemented his eyes beautifully. He was sexy as hell. The kind of sexy that didn’t need to glance in a mirror for confirmation. Whatever he possessed was innate and on some level, he knew it.

“So do you,” I admitted. “Levi, I’m busy.”

“I can see that,” he snarked. “Where are you?”

“I’m freezing my ass off in the herb garden.”

“Ah. Too bad. I’m sipping margaritas on a rooftop in LA.”

“Good for you. I—”

“I’m just kidding. I ordered a Diet Coke with a slice of lime fifteen minutes ago and it’s still not here,” he griped good-naturedly. “I must be invisible.”

“It’s your shirt.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“Nothing. I was teasing. You look…manly. Like a lumberjack,” I said, adjusting my phone to fix my angle. “Much better.”

“Lumberjacks are better than what?”

“I was referring to my face in this phone, smartass. This is why I don’t participate in visual chatting. I’m easily distracted by terrible lighting. Remind me why we’re doing this again. Did you need something?” I fixed a smudge of eyeliner under my right eye then puckered my lips.

“Not really. I—” Levi paused to thank the waiter when he set his drink down. He lifted his Diet Coke in a mock toast and gave a comical sideways glare. “Twenty minutes and probably ten bucks later. Welcome to West Hollywood.”

I chuckled. “Don’t they know who you are?”

“Obviously not.”

“Perhaps they’re busy.”

He turned his phone to show the sparsely populated rooftop with the Los Angeles skyline in the background. I could make out neon-green chaise lounges and white umbrellas surrounding the crystal-blue pool. A glass balcony in the background was dotted with perfectly sculpted topiaries.

“I know exactly where you are. I’ve been to that hotel a few times. It’s scrumptious, and the bartenders are fabulous. If you aren’t being served, you must be giving off a vibe. It’s definitely the shirt,” I said sagely.

Levi looked down at the plaid material. “You just said I looked like a manly lumberjack.”

“But that’s not a lumberjack sort of place. It shouldn’t matter of course, but LA is the land of artifice. Nearly everyone there is obsessed with labels. They check out your car, your clothing, your overall physique, and then decide if you might be someone worth knowing. If you’re giving off regular guy vibes, they’ll assume you’re every gay’s nightmare…a basic bitch. In your case, they’ll think you’re straight too.”

“You got all that from my shirt?” He widened his eyes theatrically.

“Yes and no. I’m from LA. I know it well. And I really should go now. Good-bye, Le—”

“Are you from West Hollywood?” he intercepted.

I smiled at his attempt to keep me talking as I made my way to the nearby bench under the olive tree. “Not originally, but I’ve spent time there. I’m from East LA, darling. The other side of the tracks.”

“Oh. Do you have family here?”

“Probably. I don’t keep in touch, but I’m more than fine with that, so don’t look so sad.”

“See? Aren’t you glad we’re FaceTiming? A lot would have gotten lost in translation if I couldn’t see your expression.”

“Hmm. Well, not all of us have the luxury of lounging at LA sky bars before noon on a Wednesday. I must get back to work.”

“Believe it or not, I’m working too. I’ve interviewed a couple of chefs so far, and I have another one tomorrow. And I’ve been doing research. I’m on a mini wine-and-dine tour of the top-rated eateries in the city…sampling food and interviewing chefs and kitchen staff. You’ll be glad to know—I’ve been taking notes on a few of the better menus I’ve come across for content and font ideas.”

I smiled when he waggled his brows. Levi had a boyish charm and oodles of charisma. With the right team and a solid business plan, he might actually open a successful restaurant.

“You’ve been busy then. When are you flying home?”

“I drove. I had to move a bunch of crap out of Kevin’s place and—I’ll be back Saturday. So what do you say? Will you give me an hour of your time to go over a few ideas?”

I narrowed my gaze suspiciously. “You’ve already talked to Wes, haven’t you?”

“Maybe. Okay, yeah. I just got off the phone with him before we talked, but I did try to call you first.”

“You should talk to Wes anyway.”

“He said you’re a team, which I assumed meant I should try to get on your good side. How am I doing?”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, Levi. The jury is still out on you. You may be too charming for your own good.”

“Yet here I am being completely ignored in an empty bar,” he joked.

“It’s the shirt, honey.”

Levi threw his head back and laughed. “So you wouldn’t wear this?”

“Hell, no. But don’t take that the wrong way. Would you wear these?” I flipped my phone to show him my pink-feathered slippers.

“What the fuck are those?” He scoffed.

I chuckled. “I rest my case. Good-bye, darling.”

“Hey, wait.” He brought his face closer to the screen. His expression was intense and maybe a little unsure. “I just—are you okay?”

I stared at him for a moment without speaking. I felt suddenly choked up again, moved by that same underlying kindness I sensed in him after I’d flipped out the other night. Not pity or worry about the state of my mental health. Just…kindness.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Good. I’ll see you Saturday, Geord.”

I tucked my phone into my pocket and then leaned against the bench and lifted my face to the sky. And smiled. I closed my eyes against the midday glare and enjoyed the contrast of the cool air and warm sun. My heart felt light and unfettered for the first time in a week.

“I like him,” a familiar voice whispered.

“He’s nice. For a friend,” I replied, not bothering to look up. I’d learned the hard way not to search for someone who wasn’t there.

Maybe I’d lost my mind. At least part of it. Yes, I talked to my dead lover. And sometimes, I was sure he talked to me. I couldn’t see Mike, but I felt him. My therapist didn’t seem overly concerned. She assured me there was no right or wrong way to grieve. If I spoke to a ghost, so be it. I couldn’t feel him all the time. The months after he passed were the hardest because I felt him and saw him and smelled him in everything I did. I was told that was normal too and that eventually as my grief ebbed, I’d let go of visions and voices and learn to be alone again. Sometimes I thought I was getting close, and then something would happen…like Levi.

I looked down at my slippers, admiring the way the breeze tousled the wispy feathers against my standard black trousers. That was the commentary I was used to from my ghost. Mike talked to me in death the way he had in life. With a reverence and adoration that made me weak in the knees. I’d never been loved the way he’d loved me. So absolute and complete.

My lips twitched when the feathers tickled the tops of my feet. I started to conjure a memory of Mike’s flabbergasted expression when I came home with a pair of thigh-high, blue patent leather boots. He couldn’t speak for a full minute and then—

“I like him,” the voice repeated.

I glanced up with a start and looked around. The air was still and quiet. But it was peaceful too. I held my hand out then shoved it into my pocket and swallowed hard.

“I do too, but not like that. And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Geordie bird, let go.”

“What?” I furrowed my brow and cast a wary glance around me. Mike and Wes were the only ones who called me that, but Wes was in the city today and—

“I said, ‘Let’s go!’ A tour bus just pulled up, and there are at least twenty-five slightly schnockered gal pals who heard you were the reason to come to Napa. We need a hand in here.”

Ryan waved me forward with a panicky look that snapped me out of my reverie. He was a seasoned pro when it came to dealing with large, inebriated parties. If he said he needed assistance, I knew he was serious.

“I’ll be right there,” I called.

When Ryan disappeared inside, I took one last glance around the garden. I didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary. The only real difference was the change of light and that had more to do with winter giving way to spring than any celestial forces. Mike wasn’t here. But that was okay. I had places to be and people who needed me.

By Saturday afternoon, contentment gave way to a serious bout of nerves. I flattened my palms on my knees and let out an occasional grunt or “Mmm” as Wes droned on beside me about the business ideas he wanted to go over with Levi. I gazed out the window of his BMW at the green rolling hillside, wishing the drive between the winery and the restaurant was longer. I couldn’t understand my anxiety. True, I hadn’t seen Levi since “the kiss,” but we’d talked. A lot.

He’d called or texted me every day since Wednesday. Our conversations usually began in text form; then he’d claim he couldn’t be sure what I meant until he saw my expression. The ensuing FaceTime chats were fifteen minutes of pure silliness with Levi giving me an embellished version of his LA exploits. His self-deprecating tales of being ignored at every gay bar in La La Land didn’t ring true because let’s be honest, anyone gay, straight, or somewhere in between would agree Levi was hot as hell. But I didn’t mind. He made me laugh. I hated phone conversations in general, but I liked talking to him. I supposed it was because the underlying flirtation seemed harmless from a distance. And it was impossible not to be charmed by a sexy man who FaceTimed from an In-N-Out Burger on his drive home a few hours ago to show off his Double-Double combo with fries.

I knew what he was doing, and I appreciated it. These phone calls were undoubtedly meant to bridge over any lingering awkwardness after “the kiss.” They were a good way to reset and start again. So why did I feel like I had a desert in my mouth?

“…obviously we’ll insist on meeting the chef before we sign any paperwork. And ideally the manager too,” Wes said as he pulled into the empty parking lot of the old Skillet diner.

“Mmmhmm.”

Wes parked his BMW and whipped off his sunglasses as he turned to me. “You haven’t said a word all the way here. That’s not like you. What’s up?”

I scoffed as I unbuckled my seat belt. “Nothing at all. I’ve been listening.”

“Okay. What did I say?”

Wes had an uncanny ability to morph from mild-mannered to badass in seconds flat. I held his intense stare for as long as possible then reached for my bag.

“You’re going to offer to purchase the property outright. He’s going to refuse, and you’re going to counter with another offer to invest and form a partnership between the winery and this very sad little diner. How did I do?”

“Very well,” Wes conceded. “But something is bugging you. You’re moodier than usual. Not sad-moody…more like restless. Is everything alri—”

“I kissed him,” I blurted. I bit the inside of my cheek and waited for judgment.

I’d worked through my own guilt over the past week, but for some reason I felt the need to come clean. Mike was Wes’s mentor, ex-lover, business partner, and best friend. They loved and respected each other. Wes and I developed our own relationship over the years. We’d gone from tentative acquaintances to grudging friends and finally, best friends. We couldn’t be more different if we tried. Wes was easygoing, sexy, and kind, but he had a reputation for being a real ballbuster when necessary. I was thin, effeminate, and only sporadically sweet. Mike and the business we’d built were all we had in common. He was gone now, but Wes and I had clung to each other and forged our own unique bond. If he sensed something was wrong with me, it was best to be honest and upfront.

“Levi?”

“Yes, Levi! Who do you think I’m talking about?” I snapped irritably before regaining my cool and barreling forward. “It was a moment of madness. Nothing to worry about. But I’d like a word alone with him afterward to confirm we’re on the same page. Perhaps you can make up an excuse to step outside and call Nick. Five minutes is all I’ll need. All right?”

Silence.

“Wes?”

“Um. Yes. Sure,” he finally replied, nodding repeatedly.

“Are you angry?” My bracelets jangled when I waved my hand dismissively. “Of course you aren’t. Silly question. Never fear. I promise to be perfectly professional. You have nothing to worry about. It won’t happen again.”

I pulled my lip gloss from my bag and lowered the passenger-side visor. I used the mirror purely as a prop. We all knew I didn’t need reflective assistance to apply gloss. I hoped he’d used my distraction to come up with something more than a monosyllabic response.

“I’m not worried or angry. I think it’s great,” he said with a faint smile.

“ ‘Great’? It’s hardly ‘great,’ but it’s also not a concern. I just thought you should know. Shall we?” I asked, reaching for the door handle.

“Hey.” He grabbed my wrist to stop me. “If you’re telling me this as a friend who needs to get something out of his system, I’m more than happy to lend an ear. But if you’re sharing this out of guilt…Birdie, it’s not necessary.”

“Don’t call me that. You’ll make me cry, and I’ll never forgive you if you ruin my mascara before I walk into that horrid building,” I said in a strained voice.

“I don’t want you to cry. I just want you to know you’re entitled to a life. Kiss all the cute guys while you can.”

“Is that what you do?”

Wes barked a quick laugh. “No way. Nick would kill me.”

“At the very least, he’d spray-paint equations all over the winery,” I teased. “I’m not seeking approval or forgiveness, but I don’t want to hide anything from you. Like it or not, you feel like my conscience sometimes.”

“So how was that kiss?” he asked with a mischievous grin.

I slipped my oversized, red cat-eyed sunglasses on my nose and pursed my lips. “Fabulous.”

“Then why not do it again?”

I sputtered in agitation. “According to you, we’re hoping to enter a business alliance. We must maintain a professional air.”

“As far as business goes, I trust your judgment. And on the personal side”—he slid my glasses down my nose and looked into my eyes—“you need to trust yourself, Geord. Are you ready?”

I swatted his hand away and stepped out of the car. I caught my reflection in the window as I hiked my bag over my shoulder. I was dressed from head to toe in my usual black mourning ensemble but my shoes, bag, and sunglasses were cherry red. I hoped the splash of color made me look less like a Latino vampire, but I couldn’t be sure. I was far too thin at the moment. My cheeks could use a little contouring, I thought as I turned to survey the nondescript, chipped yellowish stucco exterior of the building behind me.

Skillet, or the soon to be christened The Vine or La Vid, was located at the end of the cypress-lined road just over a mile away from Conrad Winery. The ample parking lot next door provided a barrier of sorts between the diner and the ribbon of small family-owned shops along the street leading into the main square. I’d always loved the quaint, old-fashioned brick and stucco facades in this section of town. Tourists did too.

Over the past few years, the area had undergone a gentrification of sorts. Boutique clothing and home accessory stores were located alongside prestigious wine tasting rooms and kitschy coffee shops and the occasional café or bistro. The blend of high-end sophistication meets Mother Nature was a hit with the globally-conscious clientele who dropped big bucks to spend eco-friendly weekend getaways here.

In its current condition, the old Skillet didn’t fit in. It was a tired antique from the twentieth century in desperate need of a makeover, I mused as we pushed open the glass door and stepped into a construction zone. A couple of workers milled near the entry. One of them greeted us then called to Levi to announce our presence. He turned with a welcoming smile and damn…he looked better than I remembered.

I’d hoped the week apart would shake this feeling but no…I’d inexplicably developed a fondness for the scruffy-jawed man wearing a horrid plaid flannel, torn jeans, and work boots. And when he turned to me with a lopsided grin and a devilish twinkle in his eyes, I had a feeling I was in trouble.

Wes pointed out the new ceiling beams and electrical wiring while we waited for Levi. I nodded attentively, though I didn’t hear a word Wes said, and kept an eye on Levi as he finished talking to his contractor.

“Hi, there.” Levi shook Wes’s hand then reached for mine. And suddenly, I was back in high school with a wild crush on the campus cutie. I’d never been the shy type, but I was tongue-tied and pretty damn sure my clammy palms and my inability to sustain eye contact gave me away.

“Hello. How was your burger?” I blurted.

Wes widened his eyes and moved aside to examine an exposed beam like it was the most interesting thing ever. Great. I couldn’t decide if he was the world’s best or worst wingman. Thankfully, Levi played it cool. He slipped his hands into his back pockets and rocked on his heels.

“Awesome. Did I tell you I got a shake too?”

I shook my head. “No. What flavor?”

“Is that a real question? Chocolate. What else is there?”

“Strawberry, vanilla.” I pursed my lips to keep from laughing at his incredulous expression.

“Would you really order a strawberry shake before chocolate?”

“Well, maybe…”

“I don’t think we can be friends,” Levi said in a mockingly solemn tone.

I chuckled then gestured toward the kitchen area. “Just tell me you aren’t serving milkshakes here.”

“That’s not a bad idea. Maybe I can concoct something with a Latin vibe…like a jalapeño shake.” He waggled his eyebrows then motioned for us to follow him. “Come on. I’ll show you the plans while the workers finish cleaning up for the night.”

We dutifully followed him to the workstation to peruse the thick set of blueprints. I did my best to keep my eyes on the renderings and pay attention as he outlined his ideas to create a farm-to-table bistro featuring locally grown produce and meats. He was passionate and enthusiastic, and he’d obviously done his homework.

After a fifteen-minute presentation on paper, Levi took us through the construction zone. He pointed out the architectural highlights and explained the proposed layout.

“…glass and reclaimed wood behind the bar. The pass-through here will give this section of the restaurant a peek into the kitchen, which I know may be reminiscent of the diner, but I think it’ll work well here too. I ordered the tables, barstools, and banquet seating with help from a friend, but I still need to look into lighting.”

Wes nodded appreciatively when Levi paused to take a breath. “You’re moving full steam ahead.”

“I admit I could use help, but I’m excited to give this a go. I think a farm-to-table establishment with a Spanish California flair and a working relationship with an internationally acclaimed winery is a no-brainer in this area. In fact, I think it’ll kick ass,” Levi said with a Cheshire cat grin.

“I think so too,” Wes agreed. “What about you, Geordie?”

“I like it. But the accents and details are important. And I’m not just talking about a top-notch chef. Lighting can make or break a business too and then of course, there are things you wouldn’t think of like—”

“Fonts,” he supplied.

Our eyes locked, and my heart flipped in my chest. I had to say something fast, or Wes would get the wrong idea. Hell, I’d get the wrong idea.

I cleared my throat. “Yes. Fonts and you know…menu things.”

“Yeah. Menu things are important,” he replied in a husky tone.

“Honestly, I think it’s going to be a hit. I’m impressed. And a bit surprised,” I teased.

“Thanks,” Levi replied. He politely glanced at both of us, but his gaze lingered on mine and…fuck, it was happening again. I couldn’t look away.

Wes squeezed my elbow and inclined his head toward Levi. “Thank you for the tour. If you’re interested in a partnership, we’d like to invest. The scale is up to you. We can leave it at an exclusive contract to serve our wines only, or we can go further and offer professional expertise and financial backing. You don’t need to answer now. Think about it. I’ll get back to you next week. But uh…we should go now. I promised Nick I’d be home soon so um—Geordie, can you give me five minutes?”

I almost rolled my eyes. That had to be the worst segue ever. “Certainly.”

Levi hooked his thumbs at Wes’s retreating back and squinted. “That last part didn’t really make sense.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I asked him to give me a few minutes alone with you.”

Levi cocked his head curiously as though he was trying to read my mind. “Okay. Let me take you home.”

“Thank you, but this will only take a moment and…I didn’t see your truck outside anyway,” I said in a breezy tone that contrasted wildly with my thundering heartbeat.

“I didn’t bring my truck today.”

“Oh. Well, I’m definitely not getting on the back of a Harley.”

“I don’t have a Harley,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Did you sell it?”

“No. I’ve never owned a motorcycle at all.”

I set my hands on my hips and gave him a baffled look. “You said you did. You had a helmet with you the first time I met you. And I distinctly recall you asking if I rode because it sounded dirty as hell. In a sexy way,” I grudgingly admitted. “Not that I’d ever ride on one of those things. I wouldn’t. But I have a fabulous memory. You and the helmet and the urban cowboy scenario happened. You can’t say it didn’t.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Levi threw his hands up in mock surrender then grinned mischievously. “Urban cowboy, eh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Well, whose helmet was that?”

“Mine. It’s just…not a Harley.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s a little embarrassing.” Levi scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“How? I don’t get it. Are you accident-prone? Do you need a helmet for walking through busy intersections or stepping off curbs?”

Levi chuckled then gave me a funny look I couldn’t read. “Nope, I—come on. I’ll show you.”

I followed him outside and spotted Wes leaning against his car with his phone glued to his ear. I shot a puzzled look at my friend before moving toward Levi, posing with his arms stretched wide in front of a—

I gasped then covered my mouth and just stared because…wow. It wasn’t every day a six-foot-two hunk of a man led you to his bubblegum-pink Vespa.

“Is this yours?” I asked reverently.

Levi shook his head. “No, it’s my sister’s. She asked me to store it for her while she’s out of the country and take it out for an occasional spin around the block. She left me her helmet, but I couldn’t do pink on pink, so I bought the black striped one and…what do you think?”

“She has a pink helmet too? I think your sister might be my long, lost twin. This is positively enchanting!” I gushed, running my hands along the side of the scooter.

I pushed my bag over my shoulder then gripped the handlebars and examined the digital screen and dual rearview mirrors.

“Enchanting? Ha. Wanna take a seat?” Levi opened his arm in invitation like Vanna White and chuckled when I nodded profusely.

I couldn’t decide what was cuter, the indulgent crinkles at the corner of his eyes or this glorious, vintage light-pink Vespa. Together they were a magical combination. There was something undeniably charming about the man, the scooter, and the element of surprise. I hiked the fabric up on my black pants then straddled the bike and flashed him a shit-eating grin.

“I’m going for badass bitch here, and I won’t settle for anything less. How do I look?” I lifted my brows suggestively.

“Like a badass bitch,” Levi confirmed.

“Hey, this is very…pink,” Wes commented with a half laugh as he joined us. “You used to have one like this, didn’t you, Geord?”

“Delilah. She was grand,” I sighed wistfully. “What’s this one called?”

“Make something up. Geordie has a thing about names,” Wes advised when Levi hesitated. “Or think about it and get back to him. We should probably go, Geord.”

I nodded but didn’t move off the scooter. “Right.”

“Why don’t you let me take you home? I happen to have an extra helmet if you’re interested in taking a spin.”

“I am.” I beamed at Levi then turned to Wes. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Wes squeezed my shoulder absently and stepped backward. “Bye, Birdie. See ya, Levi. We’ll talk next week.”

“Sounds good.” Levi shook Wes’s hand and waited until he was out of earshot to ask, “Birdie?”

“It’s an old nickname. Not important,” I replied dismissively. “I want to know all about you and why you kept this delicious secret.”

Levi huffed. “My sister’s scooter isn’t exactly a secret, but it’s also not something I advertise. Most people I know aren’t impressed by pink Vespas.”

I wrinkled my brow and gave him a forlorn once-over. “You poor, sad man. You obviously need new friends. Like me. Perhaps I’m easy, but this is a thing of beauty. I had one just like her years ago. I bought Delilah used and when I say she was vintage, I’m not exaggerating in the slightest. She was slow and had a difficult time getting up hills. But we were positively brilliant together! She was classy and chic, and she insisted I bring my A game. Thigh-high rhinestone-studded boots, Pucci prints, and a scarf around my neck. God, I was fabulous.”

“You still seem pretty fabulous to me,” Levi commented.

“I’d like to think so, but I’m afraid it’s different now. Less obvious. My fabulous is only beautiful in certain light, if you know what I mean.”

Levi shook his head. “No, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re stunning.”

I looked down at the odometer to hide a blush he certainly couldn’t see in the dusk. “Thank you.”

“Hmm. You know, I’ve actually never said this to anyone before, man or woman…but you may honestly be the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen.”

A warm glow flooded me from the inside out. I couldn’t help preening with pleasure. “Thank you, but—”

“Don’t thank me. I’m serious. Your hair, your eyes, your hands. You could do one of those dish soap commercials for Palmolive or Ivory. You’d be a natural hand model,” he said earnestly.

I glared at him. “You’re dead to me.”

Levi threw his head back and laughed. “I was joking. I had to say something to stop piling on the compliments or you’d think…never mind.”

“No, no. Do tell. What would I think?”

“Well, you might think I like you.”

“I don’t want you to like me. Not really,” I said softly.

“What if I told you it’s too late?”

A light breeze tousled Levi’s hair. My fingers itched to brush it off his forehead. I stared at his mouth for a moment then looked away with a sigh.

“I can’t do this, Levi. What happened last week can’t happen again,” I said solemnly. “I asked Wes to give me a few minutes, so I could apologize. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Levi furrowed his brow. “I think we kissed each other and either way, it was pretty fuckin’ hot.”

“True, but I’m an unresolved mess, and I’m afraid it’s a lifetime sentence so—”

“You’re talking in circles again. What are you saying?”

I could tell he wanted to lighten the mood I’d created and as much as I wanted to crack a joke and move on, I had to explain. “I’m in mourning.”

Levi sobered immediately and nodded. “I heard. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” I looked away, scouring the area for a point of interest. But twilight was descending rapidly, sending long shadows across the deserted parking lot. I came up blank and decided that was probably my cue to exit. “Will you take me home now?”

“I have a better idea. Let’s go for a ride. I promise I’ll take you back whenever you say but…just give me an hour.”

His intensity gave me pause, but that devilish spark in his gaze was difficult to deny. I smiled and tilted my head.

“All right. But I call the pink helmet.”

“Deal.”