Leaning Into Series: The Complete Box Set Page 20

  “Sounds like someone needs a hug,” Josh singsonged playfully.

  His silly delivery made me smile for what felt like the first time all day.

  “You gonna give me a big hug, Joshy?” I teased as I turned my windshield wipers up another notch.

  “You bet, buddy. Then I’ll slip my hand in your back pocket like I’m gonna squeeze your ass, but I’ll pick your wallet instead and see how long it takes you to notice.”

  “Hmph. That was funny once, but—oh, my God. I left my jacket at the winery and my wallet is in my—I have to go. Have fun without me. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

  I ended the call without waiting for Josh’s reply. I couldn’t believe I’d been so pissed I’d left the winery without my jacket. And my wallet. What a moron.

  I squinted at the street sign ahead and then slowed down to make sure there was enough room to make a U-turn. The idiot in the pickup truck behind me flashed his lights obnoxiously. I growled but didn’t speed up. I was more concerned with safely navigating through the rainstorm than needlessly hurrying for someone who wanted to gain a car length on a narrow country road. I hovered my foot above the brake as I neared the intersection and veered my SUV to the left. Visibility was abysmal, but I spotted the red taillights of the car in front of me and slammed on my brakes just in time.

  Or not.

  The truck behind me, the same dick who’d been riding my bumper for the past mile or more, smashed into the back of my Range Rover. And I mean smashed. The sound of metal colliding and glass shattering was deafening. Time came to a screeching halt, accompanied by an eerie silence in which everything around me moved in slow motion. I watched with detached fascination as the wine bottle in the passenger seat rolled to the edge and seemed to float before ascending into the air. The moment it crashed against the windshield, the spell was broken. And that’s when all hell broke loose.

  Shards of glass flew at me from every direction and Pinot Noir exploded like blood all around me. It was strangely the perfect way to cap off a disaster, I thought as my forehead hit the steering wheel. Just perfect.

  It was quiet in the aftermath. Sound was blessedly muted. I could hear strangers speaking and sirens whirling in the background, but it all seemed so far away. I blinked a couple of times and sucked in a deep breath. Nothing happened. I tried again, but something had me by the neck. I was suffocating or maybe drowning in red wine. I opened my eyes and saw white. Only white. Then the proverbial bubble burst in the form of an airbag popping, and I was once again in the land of the living.

  “Sir? Are you okay?”

  I nodded absently, pushing at the freaking parachute in my face as I swung my legs toward the open door. I tried to focus on my surroundings. Rain, blue and red lights, and glass. Lots of glass. I felt for my cell in my back pocket and wondered where the hell to begin.

  “Come this way, sir. You have a cut on your forehead. It looks superficial, but it will be easier to examine in the truck. The police will need your ID and insurance information…”

  I followed the masculine voice to a paramedic truck parked at the side of the road as he droned on about damage to my vehicle, being lucky…whatever. I was out of it. I didn’t feel so lucky at the moment. Everything hurt. My head especially.

  “I don’t have my license. I left it at the winery. I was going back for it when—who hit me? Is he okay?”

  “He’s shaken, but he’s fine,” the man said. “The police are talking to him now. We can take you to the hospital for—”

  “No, I’m not going to the hospital.” I glanced up at the paramedic and shook my head definitively.

  The young man gave me a funny look then motioned for me to step into the ambulance. He was tall and built like a swimmer with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. If he was an EMT, he had to be new at it. There was no way he was much older than twenty-one. I muttered my thanks when he handed me a warm blanket and pulled out my cell. I had to start unraveling this mess and get the fuck out of here.

  “Let’s make sure you don’t have a concussion,” he continued in a peppy tone.

  I started to roll my eyes but immediately froze when the gesture felt like a spike going through my skull. Not that I’d own up to feeling any pain. It would only delay my departure. I was desperate to find a quiet place to think about what to do next. I wasn’t brave enough to look at the damage to my Range Rover, but I assumed I’d have to have it towed then call the insurance company, get a rental and other adult stuff.

  “How long have you been in town?” I blinked at the low-spoken inquiry and made an effort to refocus.

  “Uh…an hour? I don’t know.” I scrolled through my contacts, searching for my insurance contact. I couldn’t remember the name of the company or my representative. I hoped a familiar name would jog my memory, but so far, nothing.

  “Shoot. That stinks. Hold still while I clean a few of these scratches. It may not seem like it right now, but you were very lucky you didn’t get sliced up more by that glass. Let me check your scalp.” I let him do his thing while I studied my phone. “Amazing. Other than a few cuts, a bump on the forehead, and wine-stained khakis, you’re in great shape.”

  “Wine,” I repeated numbly. Oh fuck.

  “It’s a goner.”

  “All of it?” I squeaked, looking up to meet his eyes.

  “I think so. Which winery were you—”

  “Conrad. That’s where my wallet is.” I let out a heavy sigh and mumbled, “I knew it was bad luck. I knew it.”

  “You’re still here. That’s the important part, and hey…my girlfriend works there. I bet she can get you a good deal on another case or two.”

  “Yeah, no thanks. Do you think she can sweet-talk someone into bringing my jacket and my wallet here, though?”

  “Maybe. Or I can drop you off after you talk to the police,” he said with a grin. “It’s going to be all right.”

  I smiled weakly in response and nodded my thanks when what I really wanted to do was scream. I was trembling with cold and covered in Pinot. I had a bad feeling my three-month-old Range Rover was totaled along with the one hundred and twenty bottles of bad-karma wine. And, oh yeah…I was an hour and a half away from home. All right? I didn’t fucking think so.

  Chapter 2

  Two hours later, I was back at Conrad Winery. There was no way to pull off inconspicuous when I looked like a wine-stained drowned rat with a police escort. I tried, though. The same young woman greeted me when I pushed open the door. Her eyes widened at my bedraggled state. She cast a wary glance between my companion and me before hurrying to retrieve my belongings. She even made a photocopy of my license for the officer without asking a single question. The officer didn’t linger. He thanked me for my patience and wished me well. I was thrilled to avoid any major explanation, but my joy was short-lived when Wes Conrad entered the room.

  He gave me a more thorough once-over than his employee had. However, unlike her, he managed to keep a straight face. I couldn’t tell if he was surprised, irritated, or simply uninterested at whatever odd turn of events had dumped me unceremoniously back on his doorstep after storming out less than two hours before.

  “There must be an interesting story attached to your reappearance, Mr. Jorgensen. What happened?”

  Wes crossed his arms over his impressive chest and cocked his head. His tone was cool but not unkind. I wished he didn’t look so damn hot…and in charge. He made me feel like a naughty schoolboy who’d been told required immediate discipline. And yeah, my dick swelled in my wine-stained khakis the second that errant thought flitted through my mind. I swallowed hard and assumed my best no-bullshit, ruthless CEO expression. The one that occasionally made people sweat. Or wonder if I was sane.

  “A series of unfortunate events happened, Mr. Conrad. Your bad luck ninety-dollar-a-bottle vino exploded in the back of my truck and—”

  “What?” Wes uncrossed his arms and knit his brow.

  Now he looked fierce. Like a battle-hardened gla
diator who shifted in and out of badass with an ease that terrified mere mortals. Okay, I read a lot of comics as a kid. Maybe he just looked pissed. And sexy. I couldn’t tell anymore. I was tired, hungry, and uncomfortable. And though I wanted nothing more than to go home, I still had a few grown-up things to do before I could move on.

  “Some asshole rear-ended me a mile down the road. I’m fine and so is the dick who rammed into me. I mean”—I winced at the unintentional double entendre and rubbed my nose distractedly, immediately ruining my attempt at a tough-guy vibe. “No one was hurt.”

  “Good,” he said, curling one side of his mouth in an amused twist. “But the wine didn’t survive. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yeah. No wine, no car.” I held up my jacket. “But at least I have something dry to wear and after a phone call or two, I’ll have a rental car and—”

  “Come with me.”

  I hesitated for a second before following him down a narrow-arched hallway behind a curved wall. It was expertly designed to discourage guests from entering without having to post a large Private sign. If anyone happened to lose their way, they’d turn back after the first twenty photographs of the vineyard. It was the longest hallway on the planet. But just before the old stone walls and modern sconces completely lost their charm, it ended. Wes glanced over his shoulder to make sure I was close. Then he turned right and held up his hand, the way someone might in a church to remind his fellow worshippers they had entered a holy place. Or Narnia.

  I smiled, thinking it was quite accurate. Instead of an endless winter wonderland, however, we’d walked into an Italian-style rainforest. A high fountain wall graced one end of the large courtyard. The steady trickle of water was faint but still audible over the incessant rain. Teak benches sat under olive trees surrounded by roses and succulents, while giant cypress trees stood like sentries near a covered breezeway.

  Halfway down the path, a sprawling modern ranch house came into view. It was gorgeous. As in, worthy of the cover of Architectural Digest, gorgeous. The house was a contemporary marvel of glass and stone with clean lines softened by ivy and traditional touches like the old-fashioned lantern sconces flanking the doors. I couldn’t tell if it was that ever-present blend of old meets new, but the overall effect was welcoming. Then again, I wasn’t exactly a tough sell at the moment. Any place warm and out of the rain would have done the trick.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked when he stopped at the edge of the walkway with a frown.

  “Umbrellas. Geordie must have brought them inside.”

  “I’m already wet. It doesn’t really matter now.”

  Wes gave me a lopsided smile and then sprinted toward the house. He bypassed the main door and headed toward the far side to yet another courtyard. I huddled next to him under the eaves and patiently waited for him to open the door. I had a fleeting thought that I shouldn’t have followed him. I didn’t know this guy. He might be a psycho with a secret basement where he punished assholes who ordered wine and tried to return it.

  “Are you coming in or not?” He smirked as though he knew my dark thoughts resembled a warped fantasy.

  “Uh. Yeah. Sorry.”

  “The living room is through there,” he said, pointing to his left. “Geordie usually has a fire going on days like today. Warm up. I’ll see if I can find an old pair of sweats or something. Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t get why you brought me here. You have a fireplace in the tasting room too. Why bring me home? This is your house, right?”

  Wes’s eyes crinkled enticingly at the corners. “Yes, this my house. I brought you here because there’s a private event in the tasting room tonight. It’s about to close and—”

  “Already? What time is it?”

  “Four o’clock.”

  “What? How?”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun,” he quipped before gesturing meaningfully toward the adjacent room. “I’ll be right back.”

  I yanked my phone out from my pocket and moved into the living area with my face lowered. Fuck the architecture and my sexy-but-confusing host. I had to get out of here. I punched the number I’d found earlier for my insurance agent, unsurprised when it went to voicemail. Now what? Where was Eric when I needed him? Who was I supposed to call when I literally had no clue what to do next? I needed a guidebook clearly spelling out how to do adult things you didn’t count on in a pinch.

  “Darling, you’re dripping all over the Persian rug. Stand closer to the fire, and tell me everything. Name, date, and place of birth, favorite color…whatever you want. I’m all ears. But no dripping, please.”

  I jumped in surprise and dropped my cell as I spun to face the effeminate-sounding voice. A dark-haired man lounged on the sofa behind me with a book resting on a red velvet pillow. I only noticed the pillow because it matched his slippers and made his black robe and black silken pajama bottoms stand out.

  “I’m—I’m sorry.” I sidestepped toward the edge of the hearth when he hooked his finger again.

  “Whatever are you sorry for? God, I hope it’s something juicy. Life has been much too dull and melancholy lately, you know.”

  “Uh…yeah. Unfortunately, not for me.” I let out a half laugh and bent to quickly retrieve my phone before moving back to warm myself by the fire. I was aware of the stranger’s unapologetic stare, but I did my best to ignore him as I dialed the twenty-four-hour assistance number on my insurance card.

  He closed his book and cocked his head as he listened in on my conversation with the sympathetic agent. Then he reopened his book with one finger and looked up at me in a way that made it clear he was actually looking down at me before letting out an impatient huff.

  “Do us both a favor and have a glass of wine. Your stress level is at war with the fêng shui. I’m going to have a nervous breakdown if you don’t calm yourself.”

  The man’s bored tone and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes told another story. When the agent put me on hold, I pulled the phone from my ear and narrowed my gaze.

  “Would you like me to go into another room?”

  “No. I want you to hang up, pour a glass of wine, and tell me who you are. I’ll help you with the rest. I’m a master at solving other people’s problems.”

  A tired love song from the eighties filled the quiet on the phone while the fire crackled at my back. This was surreal. I felt like an audience member who’d been pulled onto a movie set to fill in for someone else. And this guy was the seasoned veteran feeding me cues with an arched brow and an expectant look that suggested we’d known each other for years.

  “Who are you?” I asked quizzically.

  “That’s Geordie,” Wes announced as he sailed into the room, pushing a pair of sweats and a shirt at me.

  “Dammit! Why must you ruin all my fun?” Geordie slammed his book shut and tossed it carelessly onto the coffee table in front of him.

  I chuckled at his antics and put my phone back to my ear. The line was dead. Great. I gave up and typed a quick text to Barb asking her to have a rental car delivered to the winery within the hour. I’d buy her flowers on Monday, I mused as I pocketed my cell and studied the two men.

  Were they lovers? I didn’t think so. Geordie certainly was gay, but Wes…I didn’t think so. Then again, my gaydar sucked, which probably had something to do with the fact that I really didn’t care who was gay, straight or bi. No one’s sexuality struck me as particularly relevant unless I wanted to fuck them. And I’d never been the type to spin over one person for long. Sex was fun. Relationships weren’t. Which was exactly why I was in my current predicament.

  Wes ignored the other man and gave me a weak smile. “There’s a bathroom around the corner. Go change.”

  “I bet he’s hungry,” Geordie piped in. “You should offer him something to eat.” He sat a little taller and leaned over the arm of the sofa. “What’s your full name?”r />
  “Nick Jorgensen. What’s yours?” I asked politely.

  “Geordie De La Rosa. I’m from the kingdom of Aragon, but I have been in your country for many years,” he said in a suddenly thick Spanish accent.

  “Uh…okay.”

  Wes chuckled softly. “His other alias is Jorge De La Rosa of East LA.”

  Geordie shot a death glare at Wes then lowered his lashes like a femme fatale before glancing back at me. “He’s a beast. It’s a good thing he’s handsome, or we would never have lasted this long.”

  “So you are a couple?” I furrowed my brow in confusion, unsure why the idea bothered me now.

  “We’re a couple of business partners. Sort of,” Geordie answered cryptically with a funny twist of his lips.

  His facial expressions were comical. I was curious about his connection to the sexy hunk sitting across from him. Other than height and maybe age, they were so different. One was overtly fabulous and the other was rugged and mysterious.

  “How long have you been in business together?”

  “Too long. Let’s not talk about us. We’re boring. Tell us about you.”

  “We already know about him, Geord. This is Nick of the ‘Nick and Lisa Forever’ wedding fiasco.” Wes’s careful intonation and knowing glance hinted this was indeed a story they both knew well. Great.

  Geordie scowled. “You’re that Nick?”

  “When you put it that way, I’m not sure I am.”

  “He is,” Wes replied matter-of-factly. “Never mind. What’s done is done. The wine is gone now, and I was never going to take it back anyway. We may as well start over.”

  Geordie stood with his hands on his hips and gave me a thorough once-over. He was taller than I expected, probably six foot four or more. He was lean and willowy. And though the sentiment sounded strange, he was a beautiful man. Geordie was olive skinned with dark eyes, full lips and impossibly high cheekbones. I could have sworn he was wearing blush, but it may have been a trick of the firelight. Either way, he exuded an air of sophistication with a childlike enthusiasm that was extraordinarily captivating.