Tyler
I WATCHED WITH anticipation as the final bottle of CJ went on the auction block.
A big foam index finger pointed in the direction of a bidder to draw the auctioneer’s attention to a competing paddle. I followed the marker and smirked. Paddle 190 was held by Mr. Baldwin Perkins and he was really driving up the price.
“I wonder if Mr. Perkins took an Uber,” Paris whispered in my ear, announcing her return from the bathroom for like the fifth time tonight.
This time I insisted on walking her. I felt like I hadn’t seen her most of the evening. I leaned against the wall. “With a net worth estimated by Forbes at $1.3 billion, he could buy his own fleet of Ubers.”
She laughed and I took that as I good sign considering when I had seen her tonight, she’d been quiet. Whatever was going on, I couldn’t get a read on her and I hated it. Had I given her too much space because if so, I really wished she’d tell me. The distance thing was fucking killing me. Being so close to her and not being able to touch her was like an invisible knife gutting me every time.
“Thirty thousand . . .”
“Thirty-five thousand . . .”
The auctioneer looked around for any bidders to top the last. There were at least five. The bidding war was not slowing.
I took a sip of my champagne and let the sparkling flavor slide down my throat. “Come on, higher,” I said in a hushed tone.
Paris chewed on her lower lip and grabbed for my free hand. “I think someone just bid forty.”
“I think it was forty-five, Love.” It slipped out and she didn’t complain.
“Fifty thousand . . .”
“Sixty thousand . . .”
“Seventy thousand . . .”
The bidding slowed. Mr. Perkins was no longer raising his paddle because he was busy talking to someone who’d sat beside him.
“Sold to Mr. Frank Gambino,” the auctioneer exulted.
“That’s it?” Paris asked, her eyes finding mine with concern.
I nodded. “It wasn’t as much as I’d hope to get but with the sum of all three bottles combined, we got enough to get us through the harvest.”
“That’s what we were hoping for, right?” she asked, the optimism in her tone doing strange things to my heart.
I took the hand I was holding and brought it to my lips. “Yes, it is. And there’s an added benefit as well. Both California Jane and Highway 128’s reputation has slid a bit over the years with all the wine connoisseurs moving on to small production cult wines. So, with these bottles getting some attention, perhaps we’ll peak their interest when we launch Highway Jane.”
She shivered under my touch. “And I really think we need to get our own champagne line out before the end of next year.”
I chuckled. “Aggressive, but I like it.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Do you think we could talk? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
Twisting my lip, I looked down at her. “Please don’t tell me Tabitha has put together another addendum?”
Her giggle was almost contagious. “No, nothing like that, but this is serious.”
That worried me.
“Maybe we could go home?” she asked.
Now, I was really worried. “Um . . . yeah . . . sure. Let’s just say goodbye to everyone.”
“You sure it’s okay to leave now?”
“Absolutely.” Tucking her arm over mine, I guided her toward the table so we could say our goodbyes. “Still not feeling well?”
“Something like that,” she murmured.
Okay, now I was tripled worried.
Was she going to end things between us before I had a chance to prove to her I was the husband she needed?
Fuck. I was sure she was.
The only thing I could think about the entire way home was . . . it was time to show her I was her prince charming. And I had to do it quickly before she had a chance to talk first.
Ready or not.