Noah tried to tell himself he didn’t care what Angelica did with her free time, how she chose to promote her business. But the idea that she’d leverage his town to boost her “personal brand” left him feeling pricklier than usual. And if experience had taught Noah anything, it was only a matter of time until she’d ask if they could film in his vineyards—or want something even larger from him. Like sponsorship or some other financial investment in the endeavor. The Bradstone name got everyone excited, and it seemed like Angelica wasn’t the exception, after all.

He cracked open a soda and settled in at his desk to go over some important paperwork he’d been putting off. He’d gotten his MBA so he wouldn’t have to outsource these tasks, but now he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to hire the same firm his father used. It went against everything Noah wanted for Stonewell Vineyards and himself, but as he stared at row after row on the spreadsheet he considered it might be time to put pride aside for practicality.

For the next few minutes, he shuffled papers and compared the sums on his receipts to the numbers on his screen, but his heart wasn’t in it. In addition to not being able to reconcile the two totals, he couldn’t stop thinking about his stilted conversation with Angelica. Lord, that woman could get under his skin like no one else.

When one of the spreadsheets Noah was working in crashed his computer, he blew out a frustrated breath and pushed away from his desk. Yeah, he was definitely going to have to put in a call to his dad’s accountant. In the meantime, he had a few other calls to make.

“Hey man, you want to head on over to Scallywags?” Noah asked when Max picked up his phone.

“On a Monday night?”

“Ugh, good point.”

The small, pirate-themed waterfront bar was normally a good place to while away a few hours in a low-key environment, but in an effort to boost revenue, last summer the owner had announced Mondays were ladies’ night. While normally that wouldn’t have been a problem, the women who were affiliated with the local biker gang had claimed Mondays as theirs, and they weren’t shy about their appreciation for the town’s younger men. One word from Big Mitch about keeping their hands off his women, and Mondays at The Scallywag were forever off the agenda.

“Sean said something about heading to The Hut tonight,” Max offered.

That news gave Noah pause. Sean had moved back to River Hill after a pop star he’d represented had died from a heroin overdose. He’d felt responsible for the kid’s death, and needing a change of scenery, had quit his label and moved home to figure out what came next in his life. He’d been working at the family bakery ever since, and Noah and Max thought he was finally moving forward. Except, if he was drinking alone on a Monday night at the local dive bar, maybe Sean hadn’t moved on as well as they’d all thought.

“Should we be worried about him? It’s a Monday, for Christ’s sake, and The Hut isn’t really up to Sean’s standards.”

“Dude, glass houses.”

Max had a point. Noah couldn’t criticize Sean for wanting to drown his sorrows there when he’d proposed the same damn thing. At least Sean had real, life-altering issues to work through. Angelica was just a blip on the path of Noah’s life; he’d probably forget all about her in a couple of months. At least he was going to try; drinks at the local dive bar were a good start. After all, he probably wouldn’t run into her there. Just because Sean had decided to slum it after years spent in the glitzy clubs and champagne bars of Hollywood didn’t mean Angelica could hack it with the rough and tumble inhabitants of River Hill and its surrounding communities.

“So, The Hut at eight then?”

“See you then.”

Several hours later, Noah, Max, and Sean were sitting in a line at the rickety bar of The Hut, the grizzled old bartender Harry passing each of them a shot of cheap, bottom shelf whiskey. It burned Noah’s throat when he tossed it back, but it did the trick. A few more and he might not care about Angelica at all.

“I’m telling you,” he barked, slamming his palm on the sticky bar, “it’s only a matter of time until River Hill turns in to Yountville. Or worse, Nob Hill! She’s inviting them into our midst.”

“Dramatic much?” Sean laughed from the end of the bar.

“I’m not being dramatic,” Noah argued, almost tumbling off his stool. Rebalancing himself, he continued, “Remember what happened when Guy Fieri won that food show? He drives a neon-fucking-yellow Ferrari now!”

“Is that what you’re concerned about?”

“Of course! That car is fucking hideous.”

“You’re making no sense whatsoever,” Max told him. “Angelica isn’t like that. She’s a nice girl.”

“Exactly!” he hollered, triumphantly. “She’s a nice girl who likes nice things. Fame is going to go to her head and she’s going to start carrying Gucci purses with tiny dogs inside.”

“Do you think he even hears what he’s saying?” Sean asked Max over Noah’s head.

“The better question is, do you think he’ll remember any of this in the morning?”

“The Diner?” Sean notched his head toward the door.

“Yeah, let’s get some coffee in him, otherwise he’s going to regret this in the morning.”

“The only thing I regret is meeting her,” Noah mumbled into his empty shot glass as his two friends hoisted him off the stool and out to Max’s car.

* * *

It took three mugs of steaming black coffee, two large glasses of ice water, and a heaping serving of scrambled eggs with a mountain-sized side of crispy, greasy bacon before Noah was feeling more like himself.

“Why’d you let me drink that much?” he asked, pushing his plate away with a groan.

“Let you?” Sean asked. “You threatened to punch me when I tried to stop you.”

Noah winced and dragged his palms down over his face with undisguised embarrassment. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You know I’d never actually do that, right?

Max smirked. “Yeah, we know. Despite your grumpy disposition, we’ve known you long enough to realize your bark is worse than your bite.”

“Speaking of bark,” Noah said, “I should get home and let Molly out before bed. If I don’t, she’ll probably shit all over my rug again.”

“We still on for Thursday night?” Sean asked, pocketing his change.

“I’m game if you guys are,” Max said, looking to Noah for agreement.

“Yeah, I’m in.”

“Cool.” Sean pushed in his chair and, with his back to his friends, raised his hand in farewell. “See you Thursday.”

“You good?” Max asked, concern writ plainly on his face.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Noah answered, stretching his back. “Been awhile since I went on a bender like that though.”

“You were on a roll,” Max said, winding his way through the other tables toward the diner’s exit. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you that bent out of shape about a woman.”

Noah followed Max to his car. If he was lucky, once Max dropped him to pick up his truck, he’d be home before midnight. Noah needed at least five hours of sleep a night to function properly the next day, and he had an important meeting with his vineyard manager at eight to go over some soil readings on the vines that had been planted on Angelica’s property.

Angelica.

“Yeah, that woman gets under my skin like no one ever has,” he told his friend.

“I kind of got that.” Max chuckled, but then sobered. “You had a lot to say about her.”

“I was probably talking out my ass.”

Max climbed in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. Once Noah slid in next to him, he agreed. “You were. What’s your deal anyway?”

Noah’s mind flashed to Angelica’s naked body pressed up against the tiles of his shower, and the way her thighs had clenched around his head while he pleasured her from his knees. He shook his head to dislodge the erotic image. “I honestly don’t know. I mean, we’re fucking—”

“You don’t say,” Max interrupted.

In the dark, Noah shot his friend a dirty look he wouldn’t see, and then continued trying to describe his ... relationship … with Angelica. “Sometimes I think she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and then at other times I want to wring her pretty little neck.”

“Like tonight?”

“Yeah, like tonight.”

“Anything specific?”

“Ugh. You know how she’s doing that renovation show?”

“Yeah, the crew eats at Frankie’s at least twice a week.”

“Well, today she told me the mayor and the town council want her to film parts of River Hill for the series as well.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Max asked as he turned down road that would take them back to The Hut.

Noah groaned. “You know as well as I do how it’ll play out.”

“More tourists?”

“Exactly.”

Max pulled up alongside Noah’s truck and shut off the car. “And how is that bad again?”

Noah laughed cynically. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you don’t know why I don’t want that to happen.”

“I don’t have to pretend. No matter how I look at it, I can’t see the downside. More tourists translates into more money for local businesses. More money equals better services for River Hill. As far as I’m concerned, if Angelica’s show puts more butts in the seats at my restaurant, I’m all for it. I honestly don’t see a downside.”

“Wine buses. Bachelorette parties. People showing up drunk off their faces ten minutes before closing, expecting me to open my most expensive bottles of wine, then spilling it all over, and not having the decency to even buy a fucking bottle.”

It wasn’t hyperbole or hangover talking. Noah had seen it happen at his father’s tasting room more than once when he was younger and still learning the trade. He’d never forgotten the drunk brides who’d thrown themselves at him to try and get in one last hurrah before they walked down the aisle. And he’d certainly never forget the one who’d emptied the contents of her stomach all over the bar, splattering vomit all over his shirt. That kind of behavior might fly with other wineries who relied on drunk tourists to pad their bottom line, but Noah wanted nothing to do with it. He was here for the sheer joy of creating great wine, and he wanted the people who came to his tasting room to feel that way, too. That was why he’d opened his tasting room in River Hill instead of in one of the larger, more tourist-friendly towns further inland.

But Max wasn’t having any of it. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I assure you, I’m not.”

“You do realize you don’t have to open your winery up to buses and large parties just because River Hill might get its fifteen minutes of fame, right?”

When Noah didn’t answer, Max pressed further. “Given your silence, I’m guessing there’s something else you’re not saying.”

Noah stewed on it for a few moments. While he hated to imagine his winery turning into a carbon copy of his father’s, Max was right. He bristled at the idea of River Hill being overrun with tourists and his favorite haunts being changed to accommodate them, but that might happen even without Angelica’s show. The truth was, no wine country town was immune to that possibility.

So what was his problem then?

His conversation with Angelica kept coming back to him—specifically, three little words she’d uttered. My personal brand. Logically, he knew she’d need to establish her B&B through word of mouth and travel sites for it to be successful. He wasn’t opposed to that. But Noah had dated a few women who didn’t care what their actual lives were like so long as their online presence showed something that was perfect and enviable. Their brands, they’d all called it. In that world, likes and hearts equaled endorsements and sponsorship opportunities that were more important than actual conversations and shared interests. Everyone was your friend when no one really was. He wanted nothing to do with any of it.

The most disappointing part of this was he hadn’t pegged Angelica for one of those types of women, but maybe he’d been wrong. And if he was, soon she’d try to cash in on his family’s name, too. It had happened more times than he could count over the years. Aside from Naomi, he couldn’t name one woman he’d been involved with who hadn’t wanted to boast about the famous Blackstone name to push her own self-interests. And that’s what had him most on edge, he realized. He’d run far away from San Francisco to get away from women like that. River Hill was supposed to be his safe place, where he could lead the type of life he wanted, away from everything he’d turned his back on.

But this wasn’t a conversation he was going to have with Max. At least not yet. First, he needed to talk to Angelica and make sure she knew, in no uncertain terms, that he was not for sale. His name was not for sale. And if she thought it was, they were through. No sex—no matter how magnificent—was worth his pride.

Noah pushed open the door and unbuckled his belt. “Nope, that’s it,” he said, climbing out and shutting the door.

* * *

Noah clipped Molly’s leash to the shelf inside his mudroom and went to lock up when he spied Angelica’s kitchen light glowing across the field like a beacon in the pitch black. Checking his watch, he saw it was nearly midnight. He should go upstairs to bed, but that yellow orb—and the woman inside—beckoned to him like a siren. Noah shrugged back into his coat and locked the back door. He didn’t need to, but old habits died hard. He’d never left the door to his place in SoMa unlocked, either, despite the fact that it was a secure building with a 24-hour doorman.

When he reached Angelica’s porch, his heart was racing, but it wasn’t from the brisk walk through the vines and up her long drive. He had so much to say, but he didn’t know where to begin. Before he could put his thoughts in order, Angelica opened the door, her perfect curves illuminated by the soft, warm glow from the lamp a few feet behind her.

“Noah?” She clutched the sides of her faded terry cloth robe closed around her middle.

Dragging his eyes away from the soft mounds of her unbound breasts, he swallowed. “We need to talk.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“And yet we’re both awake.”

“I was going back up to bed. I only came down for some water.”

“I won’t keep you,” he said. He needed to get this over with; just say what he’d come to say. Because the longer he was in Angelica’s presence, the harder it was to remember his earlier convictions. “Can I come in?”

Her brows drawn in confusion, she moved aside, and Noah stepped over the threshold. The door closed behind him and when he turned, she was leaning back against it, her palms flat on the wood. “You look upset.”

“I’m not upset,” he said, more forcefully than he’d intended. Wordlessly, Angelica tipped her head toward his clenched fists. Okay, maybe he was upset. Loosening his fingers, he repeated his earlier statement. “We need to talk.”

“So talk.”

Without conscious thought, Noah took a step toward her. “I don’t want you to film the Harvest Festival for your show.”

Her chin jutted forward, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I really don’t think that’s up to you.”

Noah huffed. “I figured you’d say that.”

“Then why bother coming here?” she asked, pushing off the door and taking a step forward.

He took two steps closer. “Because I needed to see if I was right.”

“And were you?” she asked. Noah didn’t answer right away, his eyes glued to her chest, which was rising and falling with rapid breaths that were probably fueled by barely-suppressed rage. “Hey! I’m up here.”

Without shame, Noah took in her bounty, the soft peaks and valleys he knew by heart, until his eyes swept upward to meet her glare. “Yeah, but for how much longer?”

Angelica’s head snapped back. She breathed in deeply, twice, then took an angry step forward until they were close enough that Noah could smell the faint scent of her toothpaste with each exhalation. “What the hell does that mean?”

He reached out and brushed her hair off her shoulder. “Exactly what you think it means. What’s your endgame here, Angelica?”

She planted her small hands on his chest as if she was going to push him away, but then her fingers tangled in his shirt and she pulled him even closer. “I sank every dollar I have into this place. This house is my home. And River Hill is my home too, whether you like it or not.”

“Good answer,” he murmured, his lips hovering over hers.

“Was that some sort of test?”

“I don’t know,” Noah said, his nose brushing against her petal soft skin. She smelled like jasmine and honey, and suddenly he didn’t care about this conversation anymore. He wanted to devour her. “Angelica?”

“Yes?” she breathed out, the pulse point in her neck bouncing rapidly.

“Are you as turned on as I am right now?”

She chuckled, a rich, seductive sound, and her tongue darted out to lick a quick path over his lips. “I don’t know. Do you want me so bad you can’t stop thinking about ripping my clothes off and fucking me against this door?” Her hand dropped from his shirt to the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans. She cupped him and squeezed. “Do you want it so hard and fast that you still feel me on your skin in the morning?”

In three long strides, Noah backed Angelica against the door. “Fuck yes,” he growled against her lips, claiming them in a searing kiss, all his anger, frustration, and desire for this woman spilling forth.

Angelica ripped her mouth away. She captured his gaze as she undid his pants and pulled his cock free. “Then do it, Noah. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Splitting the panels of her robe, he gripped the globes of Angelica’s ass and hefted her up around his hips. When her legs were wrapped tight around his waist, he drove into her hard and unforgiving. Just like she’d told him to. And when she came screaming his name, Noah followed her over the edge, his vision blurring and his legs shaking.

Slowly, he set her on her feet. When he slid from her wet heat he realized they hadn’t used protection. “Shit, we didn’t use a condom.” Noah’s eyes swung to Angelica’s uncertainly. He was a fucking asshole. There was no excuse for what he’d just done. None, except for the fact that she made him crazy and when he was near her, he lost his goddamn mind.

“It’s okay.” She sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly before adding, “I have an IUD.”

He nodded, accepting her word as truth. He might have a number of conflicting thoughts banging around in his head about her, but he knew Angelica wasn’t a liar.

“I’m clean,” he offered, guilt gnawing at his belly. He hadn’t gone bare since one stupid night in college. It was no wonder he’d nearly passed out when her walls had gripped him tight and she’d fluttered her completion along his dick.

Angelica nodded and righted her robe. Stepping to the side, she tied the sash in a tight knot and smoothed her hands down the front of the fabric. “I think you should leave now,” she said, gripping the door handle and twisting it open. “We’ve both said enough for one night.”

Noah didn’t argue. How could he? Instead, he raised her chin so she’d meet his eyes. “I’ll go, but this isn’t over.”

Her eyes flicked between his and her mouth turned down in a frown. “No, I don’t expect it is.”

That night, for all the tumult of his day, Noah slept the sleep of the dead, and when his alarm went off at dawn, the world didn’t seem quite as bleak as it had before. He wouldn’t go so far as to say a good hard fuck had solved their problems, but the way he’d felt when he’d emptied himself inside Angelica had certainly clarified a few things for him. The most surprising being that he might care about her almost as much as he did his beloved River Hill.