I hug myself very tight to Chase, and as we stand, I realize I’m more secure in his arms than I have ever been in anyone else’s. Thinking back, I don’t think I’ve felt this with anyone, except for my mother. Tears begin to stream down my face, the pain of her loss still seems so fresh it’s as if I got the call minutes ago instead of two years.

God, I miss her.

Chase holds me tighter, and I . . . I simply cling to him as if he’s the answer to my problems or will somehow make everything better. But I know deep down that isn’t true. The last time I turned to a man for any kind of security or support, I lost everything. Realizing just how stupid it is for me to make the same mistake again, I take a deep breath and pull out of Chase’s hold.

“I can’t do this,” I tell Chase, wiping my tears away.

He nods and lets me go, not arguing or forcing me, which is not the way the men I’ve been with typically act. It’s as if he gets me. And without another word, we continue our walk.

We come to the top of a hill, and Chase stops. “See that house up there?” he says, pointing to a house in the distance, “That’s where I grew up.”

“Oh, wow. It’s gorgeous.”

“It didn’t always look like that.”

“No?” I question him, taking in the massive home and the sprawling acres of land that surround it.

“No, we were very poor when I was young. My parents inherited the vineyard from their parents, and it wasn’t doing well. But they turned it all around and breathed life back into it.”

“That’s amazing. I’d love to meet them.”

“You can. Come to our family dinner with me tonight.”

“I couldn’t.”

He looks at me, his alluring eyes tempting me in so many ways I’m not sure I can resist them. “Would you stop that?”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Stop saying you can’t do things as if you’re an inconvenience. You did it at the store today and are doing it now. Just be. Just enjoy each moment and let whatever happens, happen.” His words make sense, and I do want to just be. I want to be comfortable for once.

On the walk back, we exchange small talk but nothing too heavy—just . . . being.

“Thank you for that,” I tell him.

“Of course, anytime. So are you coming to dinner?” I nod and agree, because the truth is, I love being around him. “Good, we’ll leave at five, I’m gonna get back to your tire now.” He stops at my car, and I walk off, heading back to the small house I somehow got lucky enough to stay in and for free.

* * *

I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror for what feels like an hour. When I left Mitch, I didn’t bring anything with me, so my clothing situation is not the best. It’s more like a hodgepodge of whatever I’ve picked up for cheap along my travels.

I smooth my hands down the front of the soft, white cotton dress I’m wearing and blot my lips. Chase said we’d leave for dinner at five, and I don’t know if I should go to his house or not.

Is this a date? I mean, I’m meeting his parents, surely that can’t be how he’d spend a first date. Feeling uneasy about what to do, I check my email. I’ve been waiting for a response back from Better Gardens and Homes regarding writing a column on St. Helena for them. My jobs since leaving Portland have all been freelance, which is all I could get after leaving my last job without so much as a phone call. But I am slowly rebuilding my reputation with the help of a few loyal friends who understood my need to leave. Clicking on my email icon, it opens right when there is a knock on the front door. Instantly, my heart is in my throat. It races rapidly.

What is he doing to me?

Getting up without even checking to see if the email came through, I walk to the door, take one deep breath, and open it. The second I see Chase, that one breath is stripped from my lungs. He looks so sexy in a button-down white dress shirt and a soft pair of jeans.

“Yo-you,” I stutter and nervously push my hair behind my ear before continuing, “look great.”

He swallows, not saying anything to me. His eyes narrow, which make me really nervous. Why isn’t he speaking? Does he not like how I look? It’s the dress. It has to be. I knew it was too frumpy.

Fuck, he’s too good for me.

Then he responds with more than words and wraps his arms around me, pulling me flush against his body. His scent intoxicates me, awakening every single nerve ending inside my body. I melt into him as he holds me tightly, his eyes blazing into mine. Then he does it, our lips mold together, a combustion of fireworks ignite in a brilliant burst behind my eyelids. This is the sort of thing dreams are made of.

A small groan escapes him, making my pussy throb. He knots his fingers from one hand into the back of my hair, still holding on to me with the other and we kiss. Our mouths and tongues are a tangled mess. The room around us seems to spin. My body is racing with adrenaline, wanting so much more to happen than a kiss hot enough to set the world on fire. But that is what I’ve realized in the short time I’ve known him—he makes me want to do crazy things.