Summer in Napa (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) (14 page)

“I hope they’re refundable,” Marc muttered, dropping a ten on the table for his drink and a text to ChiChi about inviting Pricilla and her granddaughter to their family dinner that Friday.

Lexi, out of darts, said something to her date and then disappeared down the hall in the direction of the ladies’ room. Vince flagged down the waitress to place another order, his grin a little too confident for Marc’s liking.

Marc made his way through the bar, saying “hey” more times than he wished since everyone knew everyone here, and glanced out the window. He took one look at Vince’s car and smiled. Not only did it serve as a public service announcement
to women everywhere that the man needed help in the form of a little blue pill, it also sagged drastically to the right.

“Hey, Vince, hate to interrupt,” Marc lied, taking him by the shoulder and pointing toward the front window. “But I think some idiots were out there messing with your car.”

Actually, it was only one idiot. And he was digging himself in deeper when it came to Lexi, because no matter how many times Marc told himself to keep a safe distance, there he was, repeating history and inserting himself between Lexi and another man. Only this time he wasn’t sure that he would be satisfied staying stuck in the friendly middle.

“What the—” Vince didn’t even wait for Lexi to return before going off to check on his car. He exited the bar, letting loose a whole lot of questionable language when he saw exactly how flat his right-side tires were. Even flatter than Marc had intended.

Marc followed him outside. “You got a jack?” He knew damn well that a Mercedes SLR wasn’t the kind of car you just up and change the tire for. Not to mention Vince wasn’t the kind of guy to even know where the jack was, should he have one. “Otherwise it might start to bend the rims.”

“Shit.” Vince was on it, frantically reaching for his phone while trying to use the weight of his body to push against the car and lift it a little—his drunk and sexy date no longer even registering on his list of things to think about.

Marc crossed his arms and leaned back against the right side of the car next to Vince, going for casual and pretending to do his part to help. The Benz groaned under the pressure. So did Vince when the shop said it would take fifteen minutes to get there.

“How about you stay here and wait for the guy while I go fetch your date for you?” When Vince looked up confused, Marc jutted his chin toward the window. Inside, Lexi had returned. So had the waitress. Lexi tossed her blonde curls over her shoulder and the shot of tequila down her throat.

“She must be a handful. I’ve never seen her drink like this.” Marc patted Vince on the back before heading toward the door. He reached for the handle and paused. “You know, if you want, I can take her home. It’d be no problem to drop her off on my way to the hotel.”

Vince hesitated, watching Lexi bend over and line up her next shot. Her silky number rode up her back, and the dart flew right past the board, taking out a beer mug on a nearby table.

“You know what, never mind. I wouldn’t want to ruin your fun. So I’ll go keep her company while you wait for your guy. I’ll even make sure the bartender gives her a plastic bag—just in case.”

Marc stepped inside, smiling when Vince called after him, “No. You’re right. She’s having fun, and I have to get this taken care of.” He nodded to his car. “Tell her I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to her.”

“You got it,” Marc said over his shoulder, and then lower, “and good luck with that.”

The guy was a bigger dumb-ass that Marc originally thought if he assumed he’d get a second chance like the one he’d just blown. No, Lexi wasn’t one to get drunk—often—and Vince wouldn’t get another date with her. Marc would make sure of that.

Determined to keep it light and easy, Marc made his way across the bar, slid onto the stool next to Lexi’s empty glass,
and watched patiently as, dart after dart, she carefully aimed, drew back, threw—and hit the wall, a chair, the floor. By the time she had cleaned out her ammo, she’d also cleaned out the entire section of customers.

She slowly backed away from the dartboard, stopping abruptly when she turned and found Marc waiting for her, glass of water in hand. She still held a single dart, which she pointed in his direction.

“You.” It came out part greeting, part accusation, and completely slurred.

“Me.” He flashed his best bad-boy grin. The one that showed all his teeth and made his normally hidden dimple stand out. The same one he’d learned early on that no woman could resist.

“God, it’s like I stepped in a big hunk of…of you and everywhere I go it stinks up the room.”

No woman except Lexi.

“And that”—she motioned to his face with the dart and continued—“is insulting. I’m not one of your women, so the charming little smile and flash of dimple won’t make me forget that you’re trying to screw with me.”

Marc didn’t know what had happened to make that sweet Lexi from three hours ago, who had waved and smiled to him through the window, vanish completely. In her place was a woman with a dart aimed to lodge in some poor guy’s jugular.

“And you chased my date away!”

“I did.” No point in lying. Sure, she was mad, but not about Vince’s departure. Just in case, Marc covered his neck when he said, “Cream puff, if I’m screwing, there won’t be any trying about it. And trust me, you won’t forget.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re in my seat.”

“So I am.”

“Move.”

“As you wish.” He scooted back—an inch—braced his feet on either side of the stool, and patted the now vacant part of the seat. “We can share.”

To his surprise she didn’t toss the dart to maim, nor did she shove him off the chair. Instead she walked forward, wobbling a little, to right between his legs, nudging them farther apart with her hips and stepping so close he could smell her perfume. It was light and floral and it took everything he had not to lean in for a better whiff. He worked hard to ignore just how far the vee of her top dipped into her glorious cleavage.

But when she looked up at him, her eyes full of hurt, all he could feel was the way his chest clenched up on him and his heart kicked into a painful overtime.

“So what? So you can
share
with Jeffery exactly where I am and how he can serve me?” Her eyes never left Marc’s as she drew her hand back and, steady and sure, chucked the dart. Marc leaped off the bar stool, narrowly dodging the pointy tip, which wasn’t aimed at his jugular but at somewhere much more tender. “Or wait, he already did that. Maybe this time you just want to laugh with him about how easy it was to chase off my date so I’d sit here looking like a fool in front of everyone, waiting for him to come back.”

And with that she stormed out of the bar, leaving Marc checking for puncture wounds. His goods were still intact, but he wasn’t so sure about the rest of him.

Dropping enough money on the bar to cover her drinks, he followed her out the door—because when it came to this woman that’s what he did: followed and watched. He’d spent
the past fifteen years watching her from a distance without getting caught, and he was tired of it. She was upset and probably embarrassed about being stood up, but he’d be damned if he would let her walk out of there thinking he’d set out to purposefully hurt her.

It didn’t take him long to catch up; her legs were short, the drinks were straight up, and those heels were slowing her down. She was just rounding the corner of the bar when Marc reached her.

“Look, I might act like an ass sometimes.” He took her hand to slow her down.

“Sometimes?” She tried to break free, but he held firm, trapping her hand against his chest and bringing their bodies flush.

One hell of a zing shot through him, and he had a hard time remembering how to breathe. When he saw Lexi’s chest doing a dance of its own, he knew this crazy attraction had sucked her in too. And that scared the crap out of him, because whatever had passed between them in the cab of his truck felt like high-school hormones compared to the insane heat arching between them now.

“I will admit that, although a rarity, it does happen more than frequently around you.” He relaxed his grip and cleared his throat. “But I would never, never laugh about anything that makes you sad. Understand?”

At his words, her hand flattened against his chest. He didn’t let go, and she didn’t move except to sag closer into him. “Then why are you here?”

Because even though I can’t have you, I can’t stay away.

“Because I wanted to make sure you were all right.” His eyes ran over her top, which showed more skin that it covered.
Even drunk she still managed to look sassy and sexy and hot as hell. But sexy as she was, this wasn’t the Lexi he knew. “And you should be thanking me. I chased off a guy who was willing to front the bill to get in your very drunk pants.”

“I’m not drunk.” She plucked at her top and took an unsteady step backward, whether to gain distance or because she was swaying on her feet, Marc didn’t know. Either way, she was about to tumble right out of those strappy heels and onto her sexy ass. “Fine. Maybe I’m a little tipsy.”

“A little?” He mimicked her tone as he dropped his free hand to her hip, pulling her closer and holding steady a good portion of her weight. “Cream puff, I haven’t seen you mainline tequila since prom, and that didn’t turn out so well for me or the interior of my car.” That got a little smile out of her.

“What’s going on, Lexi?”

“You knew he was going to sue me, and you didn’t say anything. I didn’t have time to prepare.” She shrugged, her smile now small and sad. “I get that you’re his best friend, but I thought we were friends too.”

Were friends
, as in past tense. Not what he wanted to hear.

“I had no idea he was going to sue you. I assumed that all the assets had been taken care of in the divorce,” he said. “And Lexi, we
are
friends.”

“Friends call, Marc. They check in on each other. Especially when somebody’s world falls apart.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

Somehow, “I’m sorry that your marriage is over, but even though I never stopped wanting you I still can’t ever have you” hadn’t seemed like a good opening. So he’d put off calling her after she left Jeff, telling himself to give her
a few days to recover from the blow. But then days became weeks and then months, and finally when the silence had become a knot in his gut, he’d heard from Abby that Lexi was moving home.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, and I’m sorry that Jeff is such an idiot that he can’t see what he’s doing to you. But your world can only fall apart if you let it.” He pressed a finger to her puckered lips. “Now before you go and say something to challenge my masculinity, all I am saying is that the Lexi I know would get pissed that her plan, for which I am sure you had every last detail figured out, has just been shot to hell, and find another way. Not use it as an excuse to give up.”

“God, what is it with you DeLucas? I’m not giving up,” she argued, but he didn’t hear any fight in her voice. “Tanner starts on the remodel Monday, and Abby is determined that we will open. Eventually.”

“That makes me happy.” Not the part about Tanner walking around her shop lifting heavy things and carrying a hammer, but that she was going forward with the bistro. “The question is, does it make you happy?”

She shook her head. “I have to cook salmon,” she said, and to his horror she started crying. Not over Jeff, not over her bistro, but over salmon.

Normally he didn’t mind when women cried. He knew just how to hold them, kiss away their tears, and then eventually distract them with mind-blowing sex. But Lexi was different. This whole fucked-up situation was different. And for the first time since, well, since graduation night, when the same woman had cried in his arms, he had no idea what to do.

He remembered how crushed Abby had been after Richard left. She had cried all the time, and the only thing that
helped was chocolate ice cream and his nonna’s hugs. He didn’t have any chocolate ice cream, and ChiChi was playing poker with her friends. So he opened his arms and pulled Lexi close, wrapping one hand around her lower back and gently patting between her shoulders.

Then he said, “Salmon isn’t so bad.”

“It is when it’s poached and served on a bed of blanched asparagus,” she sniffled and, to his surprise, wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her soft cleavage into his chest and burying her face in the curve of his neck. Not sure what to do next, he went quiet, knowing that the women in his life lived to fill gaps of silence.

Sure enough, after what felt like fifteen minutes, Lexi finally spoke. “Our grandmas invited me do a tasting with a few other caterers at the next Daughters of the Prohibition meeting.”

She sniffled.

He gave another comforting pat on her head.

They both stood in silence. For a long-ass time, because of course Lexi couldn’t be like other women and spill her secrets. That would be too easy.

“That’s great,” he finally said, hating himself for giving in. Men liked quiet. Welcomed it, even. But with her, he had no idea what he liked anymore. All he knew was that if she was catering that event, she wouldn’t hide in her apartment all day, wouldn’t have time to date a bunch of tools, and he wouldn’t have to deal with Natasha.

“No, not great. They invited the celebrity judge for the Showdown to join them.” Sniffle. “Probably because Bo Brock is so hot.”

Lexi thought Bo Brock was hot? Marc was suddenly hoping that the guy was reconsidering. Hell, he might just tell Brock he’d found another judge.

“Abby and I figured that if I catered the event it would be a great way to test my new recipes while building a name for the bistro.”

“Then why the tears?” Marc asked, running his fingers up the back of her neck and easing out some of the tension. He must have hit a sensitive spot, because she gave a little moan and snuggled closer and Marc gave up.

No matter how many times he patted her back or tried to picture Abby in his arms instead of Lexi, he couldn’t come up with a single brotherly emotion. The only thing that was coming up for him was a big problem in his pants, and if Lexi swayed any closer she was bound to notice. And wouldn’t that just make everything a hell of a lot more complicated.