Almost Lover Page 12

  “Jordan, dance with me.”

  It’s not a question—he’s telling me what to do, and everything soft and hopeful in me wants to listen to him.

  To keep myself—my heart—safe, I only need to stall for a few more minutes. I only need to resist him for this tiny space of time.

  He slides his hand against mine and lifts it up, so our palms are pressed together, our fingers laced.

  I’ve been through too much. My heart’s been used and abused. I need to be strong enough to decide for myself not to do this. Not again.

  His other arm comes around my waist, slowly. Possessively. He pulls me closer, fits my body against his.

  I can protect myself if I walk away. If I don’t stop this in its tracks, I risk losing everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  But everything feels like nothing compared to…

  What?

  I blink slowly, and it’s like I’m seeing his perfectly cheekboned, five-o-clock-shadowed face in this romantic light for the first time ever. I realize everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve built so carefully—every aspect of my entire life—is safe.

  Comfortable.

  No risk, no danger.

  It’s easy to stay contented when everything is just good enough, but that’s not the life I want to live.

  Everything I have right now feels like nothing compared to the chance to risk it all. With him.

  Maybe I won’t be brave enough to completely throw myself onto this daring new path, but I take a first baby step into his arms.

  I can’t focus on the song, so I use his body as a guide for how to move, and we’re never out of step.

  “You were incredible today.” He leans his head close and the wide flat of his hand runs up and down my back, slowly. So slowly.

  I suck a hard breath through my teeth. “This day wasn’t about me. The whole charade aside, you and I both know what happened today took a damn village.” I look at the wolfy way he smiles. Instead of making me at all uncomfortable, it makes me cuddle closer into his arms. “What?”

  “What what?” His hand moves up, pressing through my hair and massaging the tight place between my shoulder blades with soft, sure circles.

  I arch my back so his fingers work harder against my skin. “The smile. What are you smiling about?”

  “I guess I just like when you’re the sassy boss lady”

  I laugh shakily. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Nah.” He pulls the backs of his fingers along my collarbone, and it’s startling how this overlooked body part is my new favorite because of the way he touches it. “I’d never make fun of you. I respect you too much.”

  “Because I’m nice.” I don’t mean it to sound like resignation.

  He locks me tighter to his body. “Because you’re real. Honest. Caring. Passionate.” He leans forward, inch by inch, and presses his lips in that tender space where my jaw almost meets my ear.

  The air flutters around us, sticky from too much sweet champagne, while I lean my head back and give him full access to all of me. Whatever he wants.

  “You have no idea how turned on I am by you.”

  Those words slide out of his mouth easily, like they are without a second thought, but we both startle at them, stopping our slow dance in the middle of the gazebo. In an instant, it’s all bright lights, loud music, and the crushing reality of everyone staring right at us.

  This time I know the looks of pity aren’t going to be tampered down by a beautiful speech. If I had any doubts I was out of my league with Enzo, it’s crystal clear looking at the faces staring at me from around the gazebo.

  I do my best to project cheerfulness. “Um, wow it’s getting late, isn’t it? Well, today was amazing. Really. So great. Thank you all so much!” Ugh, my voice is doing that high, shrill thing that happens just before it cracks and I cry. “But I was up before dawn, and I’m wiped. I think I’m gonna turn in.”

  “I’ll walk you back.” Enzo sticks his hands in his pockets as I rush around, giving hugs and shaking hands all while pretending this isn’t the most awkward thing ever.

  The romantic music pouring out of the speakers is nearly drowned out by the thick tension filling the space. Enzo, walking me back to the house? After what he just said? I close my eyes for a split second, already imaging us taking the shortcut and stopping at his little apartment instead. Enzo and I tripping up the stairs as we tear the clothes from each other—

  “Don’t worry about it,” Eddie rushes to my side and slides his hand around my elbow. “I’ll walk my cousin home.”

  I want to stomp my foot like a spoiled brat. I want to shrug off Eddie’s grip and tell him, ‘No, Enzo is walking me.’ But can’t and I won’t. Right now, I want to kick and scream at him for ruining my life, but know why he’s doing it.

  Why he’s always doing stuff that makes me angry.

  He’s trying to protect me. He knows me, and he knows that if I open that little window for Enzo to crawl through, I’ll have a really, really hard time when he slips away in the night—when he leaves Golden Leaf—and me—behind.

  All of those eyes.

  Every last pair of them staring at Jordan and I when the music stopped.

  Staring at me like I was a predator, who just stalked and caught his prey by the throat. Like I wasn’t worthy of touching this beautiful, gentle creature.

  I offered to walk her back to her place, trying to show her—to show them—that I’m a gentleman, that I wouldn’t hurt their beloved Jordan, no matter what vibe they may get from me. Nothing I do seems to be working with her.

  I want her to trust me. I want her to let herself go with me.

  I also want to treat her like the woman she is, not like some young girl who needs protecting and babying. That may be how other people see her, but I’ve never met a more incredibly strong, talented, in-charge woman. It’s those aspects of her personality that everyone else seems to overlook, but they’re the ones that attract me to her the most.

  After seeing the look on all of those frowning faces, silently pleading with me to keep my distance, I guess it’s better that Eddie took over and walked her home, because there is absolutely no way I was letting her say goodbye without at least trying to get a kiss goodnight.

  This line we’ve been straddling between coworkers and something more for the last few weeks is killing me, and I know Jordan feels the same way.

  Eddie returns after leaving Jordan safely at her door to help the rest of us clean up.

  “Hey, man,” I say, helping him slide the last of the decorations up into the old rafters of the barn. “Thanks for walking Jordan home. She looked beat.”

  Eddie stops mid-movement and turns to me.

  “Of course I walked her home. She’s my cousin. We look out for each other.” The dude stands his full height, and I remember again how his gawkiness sometimes detracts from his massiveness. I’m not sure I could take him in a fair fight.

  He stares at me, not saying another word.

  It’s all the things he’s not saying that gnaw at me.

  “I understand.” I hoist the last box up then climb down the ladder, but Eddie’s at the bottom, blocking me into a corner.

  “I don’t think you do, Enzo. We all see it. The way you look at her—the way she looks at you.” He’s definitely taken it upon himself to stage an intervention before things with me and Jordan go any further.

  “And that’s a bad thing?” I ask, squaring my shoulders and staring him down, his hulking annoyance be damned. “We’re two grown adults—”

  “Who work together. At her family’s vineyard, which means more to her than some guy ever will.”

  Some guy.

  The words sting even though I’m not sure they should.

  I’ve sort of had this feeling in the back of my mind that if I really busted my ass here at Golden Leaf, I’d have the chance to be something other than just ‘some guy’ to someone, hopefully Jordan—and not just in the love department. I ma
y not have earned this job based on my CV, but dammit I love it. I love working out on the grounds, I love Jack busting my chops every damn chance he gets, I love seeing Jordan every day and catching her contagious passion and excitement to do better, push harder.

  I’ve never had a focus in my life, never had a reason to keep striving for better. Until I met Jordan and came to Golden Leaf.

  I cross my arms over my chest and try to joke, “Thanks for the pep talk,”

  “Not trying to be a dick, but we’re all thinking it. It just needed to be said so you get it straight, Enzo.” He relaxes his shoulders and moves to the side, so I’m not trapped by him anymore. “No matter what you think or hope will happen with Jordan, when it comes down to it, there’s no way she’ll jeopardize Golden Leaf. So don’t push her to, because in the end…you guys will both end up fucking miserable.”

  Eddie doesn’t say it like a threat or a warning. He’s more like a reluctant messenger. He seems to be waiting for me to make some big promise, swear I’ll back off and leave Jordan alone.

  “Hand me that box behind you, we missed one,” is all I say.

  I pull the curtain back and stare out at the pitch black vineyard, because my self-pity is so intense, it’s keeping me awake even after this long ass work day. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I slide it out, I pause before answering.

  It’s my brother, Cohen.

  I love my brother, but he’s sort of had this charmed existence where everything always worked out perfectly for him and he’s ended up with the exact life he wanted.

  Okay, that’s not entirely accurate. He had a pretty shitty breakup with the long-term girlfriend we all thought he’d marry before he found the true love of his life, Maren. He’s worked his ass off for our domineering father, even when it meant putting his own ambitions on hold for the good of the Rodriguez family furniture business. Cohen also continues to work hard every day, staying in line and doing the right thing because he has this rigid sense of duty and morals.

  But I’m in the middle of a pretty fierce pity party, so I’d like to overlook all of those facts.

  “Hey, bro,” I say, pulling the curtain closed.

  “Enzo!” my brother yells into the phone. “So glad you picked up!”

  “Right, well, I’m here, same state as you, not across an ocean, so you can stop yelling now.”

  Cohen laughs and then clears his throat.

  “Sorry, I’m just… happy. So damn happy,” he says, his voice weird. Cohen is a pretty steady guy, but he sounds a little off kilter. I sit up and pay attention after his next words. “You got a drink?”

  “I’m never without a beverage.” What the hell is this all about? I tug open the refrigerator and uncap a bottle of Sol—not my first choice, but it works. I take a drink, unsure what kind of news I’m in for from Cohen. The beer is cold, even if it sort of tastes like a frat party. “Alright, hit me, what’s the good word?”

  “We’re gonna have a girl,” Cohen says. I swear I can hear the sound of his throat tightening from holding back tears of joy. It makes my own throat burn a little. “The baby, I’m going to have a daughter, man.”

  “Cohen, god, that’s amazing news. Congratulations, bro. Seriously,” I say. I take another long drink and the feelings of pity vanish. I really am so happy for my brother. “How is Maren?”

  “Maren’s great. Working on the nursery, working on names, working on wearing out our debit card online shopping for baby clothes now that we know the gender.”

  I hear Maren protest in the background and then giggle.

  “How are you, E?” Cohen says. His voice is softer, more serious.

  “I’m good man, doing really well,” I say. I’m not about to sit here and drag Cohen down, or feel sorry for myself for another second. Pity party is officially over in the face of this awesome Rodriguez baby news.

  My brother is going to be a dad. I’m going to be an uncle. My niece will be here in a few months. Life is good. Really good.

  “You sure? It’s been a while since we’ve heard from you. Mami worries. We all worry.”

  “I appreciate it, I do.” I’m tempted to spill. Just a little. But I bite the impulse back. “But I’ve just been busy with work.”

  “Oh yeah? How is the event business?” he asks, like we’re two responsible adults just talking jobs and kids and shit. It’s blowing my mind how everything is just spinning by, changing fast. It’s scary as hell, and amazing.

  I realize I haven’t talked to my brother since I was working for Bonnie setting up tents. I decide it’s not worth rehashing that shit day on one of the most exciting nights of my brother’s life so I leave it at, “Work is cool.”

  “You sure? Because you know dad has a place for you at one of the stores if it’s not working out,” Cohen reminds me.

  I know he’s just trying to be my older brother, looking out for me, trying to protect me—like Eddie was trying to look out for Jordan. But I don’t need him to. I’ve got to go through this on my own—without running back home and having my family save me.

  No, whatever goes down here at Golden Leaf will be on my terms—starting with Jordan.

  “Thanks for the offer, man. I know it always stands, and that means a lot to me,” I say, and I mean it. I’m still not going back, though.

  “When’s the next time we’re going to see you?” My brother’s always kind of been the chief of the Rodriguez siblings, and part of that job is getting us all together when we start straying too far for too long. “Maren’s planning a shower you know, and was wondering if you’d be around—”

  “Just ask him!” his wife calls from the other end of the line, making me smile. Damn, she’s good for my brother.

  “Ask me what?” I press.

  “It’s nothing, man.” Cohen is avoiding telling me, which is weird and not at all like him.

  “Give me the phone!” Maren yelps.

  “Enzo?” Maren’s voice replaces my brother’s. “We miss you so much.”

  “Miss you too, Mare. Congratulations on the baby, I hope she gets your looks, my brother is such a beast!” I joke.

  “Very funny,” she chuckles. She clears her throat. “I’ll get to it. We were wondering if you did manage to make it to the shower—is there someone you’d be bringing? Are you seeing anyone yet, Enzo?”

  She and Cohen know that it was a broken heart that send me running from Silver Strand, so I know she’s probably balancing caution and hope.

  I suck in a deep breath.

  “It’s sort of complicated,” I say, honestly.

  “Uh-oh,” Maren says softly.

  “Not in a Jess sort of way,” I clarify. “Nothing to worry about, promise.”

  “Okay, good,” she says. Then she pauses, and when she speaks again, it’s the kind of sweet sister-like advice she’s given me since my brother first started bringing her around. It’s part of what made Maren feel like a member of our family even before she married Cohen. “You deserve to be happy, Enzo. You really do. I hope things get uncomplicated and you’re able to enjoy life because it’s so beautiful—” She chokes up a little, and I could blame it on her pregnancy hormones, but I like to think she’s just really that happy. “It’s so beautiful when you find that person. And you will. It doesn’t always have to be so complicated. Sometimes you can just be happy. Sometimes you have to give yourself that permission.”

  She’s right.

  “Hey, Mare?” I say, my will steeled with new resolve. “I love you. And you’re totally right. I don’t mean to cut you off, but I think there’s somewhere I need to be right now.”

  “Jordan!” I hear my name.

  It’s nothing more than a small hiss through the darkness, but because it’s his voice, it’s more powerful than a shout into a megaphone. I walk over to the window and look down. I know he’s down there somewhere, but it takes me a long moment to focus before I can make him out clearly in the inky night.

  Enzo stands under my window, a bottle of win
e tucked under his arm and two glasses in his hand. He’s wearing jeans, a white button up, and the cheesiest grin I’ve ever seen.

  His head is tilted back and he laughs like a little boy. That sound squeezes my heart like a vice grip. “Jordan Caletti, I need you to come with me!”

  “What are you doing?” I half yell-half whisper back. “You’ll wake the whole place up!” I try to glare, but his smile is viral, and I have zero resistance when it comes to Enzo Rodriguez.

  “Come down, princess!” He holds up the wine. “Come celebrate with me!”

  I grab my robe from the hook on the back of the door and hustle down the stairs. Is he drunk? What is he doing showing up at the main house at this hour?

  I don’t dare to imagine he might actually be standing there screaming for me because he wants…me. This is just a snag I need to iron out, a problem I need to solve. I can do this. I’m good at solving problems.

  Business as usual.

  By the time I make it out the back door, he’s already pacing in the gravel a little ways from the porch. When he looks up at me, his eyes get that familiar caged-wolf gleam.

  “Are you crazy?” I ask, pulling my robe tighter around me now that I’m in the cool night air. Or at least I tell myself that’s why. I tell myself it has nothing to do with the flimsy silk of my robe and very short nightgown I have on underneath. Nothing at all to do with the visions of chocolate body paint dancing through my head.

  The byproduct of becoming a liar is that it becomes second nature. Before you know it, you’re even trying to lie to yourself.

  “What’s wrong?” He trespasses at the border of my personal space, and I don’t mind one bit. His voice is low, teasing, daring. My heart pounds. “Are you afraid your mom will catch you sneaking out?”

  “No.” Yes. “I think she’d have something to say about you showing up after hours under her daughter’s window with….what’s this?” I reach for the heavy bottle under his arm. “A bottle of our Founder’s Reserve Old Vine Zin?”

  “Don’t get upset.” He slides the bottle back under his arm, and runs his fingers over mine. “I paid for it before I grabbed it. Besides, we’re celebrating, and you don’t celebrate with the cheap stuff. This is one of the most beautiful nights since I’ve been here, and I want…I want to celebrate with you, Jordan. Let’s walk.”