My feet pound a steady rhythm into the dirt keeping pace with not only the even in and out of my breaths, but the beat of my heart.
My heart.
In my chest and burning along with my muscles.
Running is my escape. My dad made me do it when I had too much energy built up, every coach made me do it to improve endurance and stamina, and now I make myself do it to stay in shape and relieve stress. It’s free therapy, only this time it isn’t working. Everything about this run was meant to clear my head and distract me from the mess I’ve found myself in, but it isn’t helping. My mind keeps rewinding itself like a home movie and replaying all of the moments we had together.
Pushing myself harder, I lean forward as I sprint up the hill on the western side of the farm. Sweat is pouring off of me, I’m dying for some water, and all I can think about is her: the sounds she makes as my teeth bite down on her bottom lip, her chest as she arches into me to get closer, her feet as they run down the backs of my thighs to push me harder and faster.
Damn it.
I knew we’d be good together, but I didn’t know we’d be that good.
Stopping in front of the manor, I bend over to catch my breath. The pulse of my blood is thundering through my body, and I hate that it might not be from the run but more because of her.
Her.
Shelby’s face as she jumped off the table flashes behind my eyes, and my heart constricts. I’m disgusted with myself that I was so consumed with my own struggles and how I felt in that moment that I hurt her. I closed off to decompress my thoughts, and she misread me. Girls are easy, and girls are fun. I always enjoy my time with them, but I’ve never hesitated like I did with her. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised she evoked a different reaction from me, she always brings out the worst in me.
“Did it work?” Kyle startles me.
He’s leaning in the doorway of the side entrance with his arms folded across his chest.
“Did what work?” I shake out my legs while wiping the sweat off my face.
Kyle looks at me as if I’m stupid. “You’ve been running for about an hour and a half, you’ve looped the property three times, that’s twelve miles.”
Shit, I didn’t even realize. I was lost in my head and just kept running. Irritation leaks in—of course he’s keeping track of me and knows exactly how long I’ve been gone.
“I haven’t been out recently, and I needed to get it in,” I say as I pass him and head for the stairs to go up to my side of the manor.
“Right,” he draws out.
Stopping halfway up the flight, I turn and look at him. His expression is mixed with concern and annoyance. I understand why, I could royally screw this up for us, but this thing between her and me has nothing to do with the assignment. Therefore, none of it is his business.
“Don’t you have some work to do?” I know I sound like a dick, but I have enough of my own shit going on in my head without having to listen to him.
“Sure do, boss.” He scowls at me as he stalks off.
Taking the steps two at a time, I slam my bedroom door behind me, walk straight for the shower, and blast the water as hot as I can stand it.
I can’t lie to myself and say that I never wanted it to happen, because deep down I did . . . and I knew it would. I think what I’m confused about is the lingering sensation of how good it felt, how good she felt, and how right it felt. I thought that if I had her, this crazy pull and want for her would subside. But, nope, five minutes after we were done, I was ready to go again. Still, even the next day, here I am, craving her even more.
Why couldn’t I have stuck to the plan? That was all I needed to do. For two weeks. Piece of cake, but no, I couldn’t even control myself for fourteen damn days. Now, I’ve hurt her feelings, and I don’t know how to fix this.
Hot water pours down, relaxing my muscles, and the heat reminds me of the warmth from her body, her skin under my fingers, and the sound of her voice as she quietly pleaded for more.
Instead of finding some clarity, I’m flooded with memories, which add to my inability to focus, so I flip the water to cold to wash it away.
Why is this so hard? She’s a girl. A girl who I kind of like, well maybe more than a little like, but I’m still not sure of at the same time. The only thing worse than hating her, would be falling in love with her.
Letting out a sigh, I think about the mountain of work I’ve let build up, and I find I’m pissed off. Pissed off at this situation, pissed off at her, and pissed off at myself.
I’m also pissed because there’s no way I’ll ever be able to walk by that table in the cellar and not think of her.
As I swallow a mouthful of scotch, I welcome the burn as it slides down my throat. It’s almost distracting enough to calm the war inside my head. Almost.
“So, what’s happening between you and Shelby?” James asks as he deals the next round of cards.
All afternoon, the guys and I have been playing poker in the library, and I’ve caught both Kyle and James randomly staring at me. I know the topic of Shelby is the elephant in the room, but I can’t explain anything to them when I don’t know myself. I haven’t talked to her today, nor do I plan to. I have no idea what she did when she left me last night or what she’s been doing since. I am pretty sure I’m the last person she wants to hear from, and this adds another layer to how I feel like shit for the way things ended. I’m not even sure what to say. “I’m sorry,” doesn’t seem strong enough . . . I don’t know. I’m not ready.
“Nothing.” I lie, refilling my glass.
“Come on, who do you think you’re talking to?” he says, condescendingly. “I’ve known you for years, and I’ve never seen you so sour. This girl is under your skin, and you can’t stand it.”
The guys fall silent, and I glance over to Kyle, who’s watching me. I know he agrees with James.
“She’s here to do the assignment, and that’s it. There’s nothing going on, and she leaves in a few days.” The topic of her makes me uncomfortable, and I want it to end.
“Well, I happen to think she’s awesome. Gorgeous, too,” he says, leaning back in his chair and throwing his arms behind his head.
“She’s a she-devil,” I mumble to myself, staring at my cards but not really looking at them.
“A what?” he asks.
“Never mind. Look, if you’re worried about some unspoken bro-code, stop. She’s all yours. I’m not interested.” Another lie.
“Whatever you say,” he drawls out and then grabs a praline, inhaling it in one bite.
All four of them start chuckling. I’ve officially heard enough.
Throwing down my cards, I push my chair back. “Today was a long day. I’m beat and I’m gonna turn in.” I look at each of them.
“All right.” James says around a mouthful of food as he stands and holds out his hand. “We’re going to head out before the sun is up tomorrow, thanks for letting us crash for a few days.” Guilt slips in a little as I clap him on the back. I know I’m being a bit of dick, I just can’t deal.
“Anytime, man, you know it’s always good to see you. Tell Lexi she better get her ass up here soon.” He grins at me, and I move around the table to give Bryan and Jack a handshake and a back slap, too.
“Goes both ways,” he says. “Feel free to get your ass down there to check on my sister.” He pins me with a look of seriousness, and I return it. I know how much she means to him, and I’ll always look out for her.
“I will, don’t you worry. Just take care of yourself and come home soon.”
“Always.” He chuckles, winking at me.
Walking back into the tasting room, I put the scotch behind the bar where I keep a secret stash and set my glass in the sink. Michelle is watching me. Everyone is watching me. I wish they’d cut it out.
Needing some space to breathe, I decide to head to the cliff. When I pull up, the golf cart that I gave Shelby to use is already parked under the tree, and the irritation I was already feeling intensifies.
What is she doing here?
Not willing to let her have my spot, I climb out and hike the trail. At the top, I find her sitting near the edge with her knees pulled up to her chest. Her hair is blowing in the breeze, and even though her back is to me, she looks small and vulnerable. The anger I felt at her intrusion dissolves, and another emotion slips in. One I’m not ready to think about or recognize.
“Did you follow me?” She doesn’t even turn around when she says it, but there is an edge to her tone.
“What? No.” I retort as I take a seat next to her.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Shelby, you really need to get over yourself. This is my spot, remember? I showed it to you.”
“Right.” She drops her chin to her knees and stares out straight in front of her.
Leaning back on my elbows, I kick my legs out and cross them at the ankle. The sun has already set and there’s only the remainder of the faint glow behind the western hills.
“What are you doing up here?” I ask her.
“Thinking,” she answers quietly.
A breeze blows and her hair swirls around her head. I should ask her what she’s thinking about, but something holds me back. Sitting next to her is an empty sauvignon blanc bottle and an empty glass, and I know this is my fault.
“About what?” I ask tentatively.
“About how I broke my rules and I’m trying to reconcile with myself.”
I’m not sure what she means by rules, but I’m pretty certain they pertain to me.
“How much have you had to drink?”
Her eyes shift down to the bottle. “Not too much, but it was really good.”
“‘Was’ being the operative word there.” I tease her, but she frowns at the insinuation and turns to look at me.
“Do you regret what happened last night?” she asks, straight to the point.
“Of course not,” I answer honestly. Regret definitely wouldn’t be the word I’d use. Hell, it doesn’t even come close to making the list, but what do make the list are: confusion, guilt, adoration. “I’m sorry that you left feeling like I did.”
Biting the bottom of her lip, she wrinkles her forehead in thought. I’m not sure if she believes me or not, and not that I would blame her if she didn’t, but I think she wants to.
“I don’t understand you . . . at all.” She exhales, sounding defeated.
When she spots the bottle of cabernet I’m holding, she takes it from my hands, pulls the cork, pours herself a very full glass and hands the bottle back.
“I know you don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, tell me what your problem is.” She pauses to take a sip of her wine and then continues without looking at me. “I don’t understand what I did to make you not like me.”
“Come on, you’re being ridiculous. You know I like you.”
“Do you?” The expression on her face is sad, and she looks so disappointed.
“Shelby, I said this before, and I’ll say it again.” Using my finger, I guide her chin so she sees me, the real me. “It’s on me, not you.” I nod my head once, hoping she’ll agree with me.
“It isn’t nice. Just make up your mind already. Either we’re friends or we’re not. Either you want me or you don’t. This back and forth with your split personalities is giving me whiplash, and it makes me not trust you.”
“You shouldn’t trust me,” I whisper.
She looks at me funnily, pulls her chin away, and then takes another sip of wine.
“But why not? I keep asking myself this. You haven’t lied to me. In fact, I think you’ve been pretty up front with how you feel about me.”
I shake my head at her, wishing I could change the conversation.
“I thought you were a player, and maybe you are, which is fine. I’m a big girl and I can handle it. Just tell me, are you playing me, Zach? Is this a game to you? Am I a game?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question? Part of me wonders if this has anything to do with me, but I can’t look past my own feelings to even ask her about hers. Her words have shot arrows into me and a heavily weighted guilt slips in. No, I haven’t flat out lied to her. I did, however, start this whole “relationship” with her on a rouse. Have I been playing her? In a way, I have been, but that game ended the second I pushed her up against the cottage door. Now, even more so after last night, it’s all very real to me.
“No, Shelby. This is not a game to me. Nothing about what’s happened between you and me is a game.” I may have set up the plan strategically like a game, but when it comes to this winery and the success of it, I take everything seriously. My plan was for her to like the winery and write a good review. Not once did tricking her into sleeping with me come into play.
“Good, because I would hate to leave here hating you, Zach, especially when I just started liking you.” She peeks over and gives me a small smile.
She likes me.
I never thought that she didn’t, but hearing her say it loosens a knot that had been twisting tighter and tighter inside my chest all day.
Pushing away our career choices, pushing away the insecurities and guilt, pushing away our differences and the plan, it’s here and now with her by my side that I decide I’m in.
Let the chips fall where they may.
Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I pull her close and tuck her in next to me. She lets out a contented sigh and lays her head on my shoulder. Her hair tickles my face, and somewhere in the depth of me, the word “mine” sneaks in. I squeeze her tighter.
Calm settles over me as I come to this decision, and for the first time since she arrived, I let myself acknowledge how right she feels—how right we feel. The rational part of me says, “What are you doing?” But the part of me that feels connected to her? It says, “Consequences be damned.” And besides, the plan worked. She loves the winery, she loves the wines—I can’t see her saying anything bad about us, and she’ll never know about it.