I nod.

  His jaw tightens. “I had a partner. Guy I’d known since college. We built the organization together. Turned out he was embezzling donations. For fucking years. By the time I found out, he’d taken nearly everything.”

  “Oh my god, Weston, that’s horrible!”

  “The worst part wasn’t the money. It was the people we couldn’t help after losing the funds. Families who were depending on us. And when everything came out, when the scandal hit, a lot of people assumed I was in on it. That I knew and kept it a secret. Some thought I was the one who did it.”

  “That’s awful,” I say.

  “I tried to fight it. Tried to clear my name and rebuild the organization, but the damage was done. Every time I looked at someone, I wondered if they thought I was a thief. So I left the state and bought a huge piece of land as far from people as I could get. And I’ve been up that mountain ever since.”

  I don’t know what to say. Sorry feels inadequate. But at least the pieces are clicking into place. I realize now why he lives so isolated, why he was so hostile when I first showed up, and why helping me seems to matter so much to him.

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a thief.”

  His lips twitch. “You barely know me, Romy.”

  “I know enough.” I gesture around the vineyard. “You’ve spent the last week fixing things I couldn’t fix myself, and you haven’t asked for anything in return. That doesn’t sound like someone who takes advantage of people.”

  “You’re too trusting,” he says.

  “Maybe. Or maybe I’m a good judge of character. You’re a good person, Weston. Whatever happened back then doesn’t change that.”

  He looks at me with a surprised expression, as if he’s not used to people saying things like that to him.

  “Thank you,” he answers.

  I smile at him. “So. What else needs fixing today?”

  He blinks as if he’s coming back from somewhere far away. “The irrigation. After that, I noticed your grape press has a loose bolt. And the door on the fermentation room doesn’t seal properly.”

  I laugh despite myself. “You’ve been making a list?”

  “Someone has to.” There’s no judgment in his words, just stating the truth.

  And the thing is, he’s right. I’ve been so overwhelmed trying to keep everything running on my own that I’ve let maintenance slide.

  “Okay. Irrigation first. Then I’ll help with the press,” I tell him.

  We work side by side for the next two hours. He explains what he’s doing as he goes and is patient when I ask stupid questions. I steal glances at him from time to time and notice the way his brow furrows when he’s concentrating. It’s so fucking sexy.

  By the time we finish the irrigation repair, the sun is at its highest, and we’re both sweating like crazy.

  “Test it,” he says, nodding toward the control valve.

  I turn it on, and water flows through the lines strong and steady with no sputtering or weak spots.

  “It’s perfect,” I say with a big smile.

  “It’ll do.”

  I turn off the water and look at him, this man who appeared in my life a week ago and has somehow become essential. “Thank you. Really. I don’t know how I would’ve managed all this on my own.”

  “You would’ve figured it out eventually.”

  “Maybe. But this is better.”

  His gaze locks on mine, intense and searching. “Yeah. It is.”

  The air between us changes. My heart beats faster, and I watch his eyes drop briefly to my mouth before snapping back up. He takes a step closer. Then another.

  “Romy,” he says, his voice rough.

  “Yeah?”

  “I need you to know something.”

  My heart is hammering now. “Okay.”

  “This—” He gestures between us. “Whatever this is. It’s not casual for me.”

  I swallow. “It’s not casual for me either.”

  “Good.” He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and cups my face with one hand. His palm is warm and calloused, and I lean into the touch without thinking. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”

  “I won’t,” I whisper.

  His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. This giant of a man, all rough edges and guarded walls, touches me like I’m something precious. He leans in slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, and I tilt my face up to meet him. My eyes flutter closed and—

  A car door slams in the parking lot.

  We both freeze, inches apart, and I hear voices approaching. Multiple voices.

  “Shit,” I say, stepping back. “That’s probably customers.”

  Weston’s jaw tightens, and for a second, he looks like he’s considering telling them to leave. But then he drops his hand and takes a step back as well.

  “Go,” he says, his voice still rough. “I’ll finish cleaning up out here.”

  I nod, trying to get my racing heart under control, and head toward the tasting room. Later, I think. We’ll finish this later.

  Inside, I paste on my professional smile and greet the group of four women who’ve just arrived. They’re having a bachelorette party by the looks of the sashes and tiaras.

  “Welcome to Hillside Vista Vineyard. Are you here for a tasting?” I ask them.

  As I pour samples and answer questions about the vineyard, my mind keeps wandering back to Weston outside. To the way he looked at me. The way he touched my face. The way we almost kissed.

  One of the women asks me a question, and I have to ask her to repeat it because I wasn’t paying attention.

  Chapter Six

  Weston

  I shouldn’t be here.

  It’s Friday, not Tuesday or Thursday morning like we agreed. But I can’t stay away. I’ve tried, believe me. For the past hour, I’ve been trying to talk myself out of driving down the mountain. I reminded myself I should take it slow if I want this to work, but none of it worked.

  So now I’m pulling into her driveway as the sun sets, my heart pounding like I’m about to do something reckless. Maybe I am.

  The lights are on in her cottage. I see her moving around inside, and just the sight of her makes something in my chest ease. This is exactly what I should be doing.

  I knock on her door and wait impatiently. Romy opens it wearing black leggings that show off her delicious curves. She’s paired them with an oversized sweater and is wearing her hair down around her shoulders. No makeup and barefoot, in comfortable clothes. Beautiful doesn’t even come close to describing her.

  “Weston?” Surprise flashes across her face. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay, but I wanted to see you.”

  Her expression softens. “Oh. Really?”

  “I know it’s not Tuesday or Thursday. I know I should’ve called first. But I couldn’t—” I break off, frustrated with my inability to explain my feelings.

  “Come in,” she says, stepping back.

  I follow her inside. A book is facedown on the couch, a half-empty mug of tea sits on the coffee table, and a blanket is draped over the armchair. It’s extremely cozy and girly, and all I can think about is how I want to live in the same house as Romy.

  Jesus, I’m losing my mind. I have been since I met her, though. Since we almost kissed but got interrupted.

  “Sorry for the mess. I was reading and chilling,” she says, gesturing to the couch. “Do you want something to drink? I have wine, obviously. Or do you prefer tea?”

  “Romy. I didn’t come here for a drink,” I say.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “I’ve been going crazy up on that mountain thinking about you. Being here two days a week isn’t enough. Because every time I leave here, I spend the entire drive back trying to figure out an excuse to turn around. And the other day, we almost kissed. If we hadn’t been interrupted, fuck, I would’ve claimed you then and there, Romy. This isn’t a casual thing for me. I know exactly where I’m supposed to be, and it’s wherever you are.”

  Her eyes grow wide, but she doesn’t speak.

  “If this is too much, too fast, tell me now. Tell me to leave, and I will. But if there’s any part of you that feels the same way, then let’s not dance around our feelings.”

  She smiles. “I feel the same way. It’s terrifying and insane, and we barely know each other, but I do, Weston.”

  Something fierce and possessive surges through me as she speaks. “Say that again.”

  “I feel the same way,” she repeats, stronger this time. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either. Every time you leave, I want to ask you to stay. And I know it’s crazy because we just met, but it feels right.”

  I close the distance between us and cup her face in my hands. “It’s not crazy.”

  “It feels crazy.”

  “It feels right.” I brush my thumb across her cheekbone, the same way I did the other day, and watch her eyes flutter closed. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Last chance. After that, you’re mine, Romy.”

  Her eyes open, meeting mine directly. “I don’t want you to stop. I want to be yours.”

  That’s all I need to hear.

  The moment my lips touch hers, I feel as if all the pieces of my life finally slot into place. Like this was the last thing missing to make me feel whole and happy again. Romy makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, and her hands grip my shirt.

  I deepen the kiss and slide a hand into her hair while I wrap the other around her waist. She tastes like tea, and I can’t get enough. When she parts her lips and touches her tongue to mine, I groan loudly.

  She presses against me, and I can feel every curve of her body through our clothes. It’s amazing, but not nearly enough.

  I break the kiss long enough to say, “Bedroom.”

  She nods and leads me down a short hallway to her bedroom. It’s small, and the bed is covered in a thick quilt. The nightstand is stacked with books, but I barely notice the titles because Romy is looking at me with dark eyes and flushed cheeks, and all I can think about is getting my hands on her.

  I help her pull my shirt over my head, then reach for her sweater. She lifts her arms, and I pull it off slowly, revealing smooth skin and a simple bra underneath.

  “Fuck,” I breathe. “You’re perfect.”

  She blushes. It’s adorable and sexy, and I need to touch her right now. I back her toward the bed until her legs hit the mattress, then guide her down gently. She scoots back, and I follow, covering her body with mine. My weight should be too much, but she arches into me.

  I kiss her again, slower this time, taking my time to worship her. I kiss my way down her neck and find a spot below her ear that makes her gasp. Her hands tangle in my hair, and I take my time learning what she likes.

  “Weston,” she breathes. “Please.”

  “Please, what?” I kiss the valley between her breasts. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You. All of you. Now.”

  I reach behind her and unhook her bra, pulling it away and tossing it aside. Then I just look at her for a moment, sprawled beneath me, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her nipples hard and right there for me.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say roughly.

  Before she can respond, I lower my head and take one nipple into my mouth. She cries out when I suck, and her back arches off the bed.

  “Oh, God,” she moans, her fingers tightening in my hair. “Don’t stop.”

  I have no intention of stopping. I lick and suck her breasts, quickly learning what makes her whimper. By the time I kiss my way down her stomach, she’s panting.

  I hook my fingers into the waistband of her leggings, pulling them down her legs with her underwear in one motion. When I look up, she’s completely bare before me.

  Holy hell.

  I’ve imagined this more times than I want to admit over the past week. But the reality is so much better than any fantasy. This is the most perfect woman, the most perfect pussy I’ve ever seen.

  “Spread your legs for me,” I demand.

  She does, and I settle between her thighs. I can see how wet she is, and it makes my cock throb almost painfully.

  “Weston—”

  I don’t let her finish. I lower my head and drag my tongue through her folds, tasting her for the first time. And fuck, there’s nothing more delicious than her pussy.

  She gasps, her hips jerking, and I grip her thighs to hold her steady. When I find her clit and circle it with my tongue, she nearly comes off the bed.

  “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, Weston!”

  I alternate between broad strokes and tight circles while I slide one finger inside her. She’s so tight, so wet, and when I add a second and third finger and curl them just right, she cries out my name.

  “That’s it,” I murmur against her, my mouth full of her clit. “Let me hear you, Romy. Don’t hold back.”

  I work her with my mouth and fingers, finding a rhythm that has her writhing beneath me. Her thighs shake, and I can feel her orgasm approaching as her walls flutter around my fingers.

  “I’m—I’m going to—”

  “Come for me,” I growl. “Come on my face, Romy. Do it now.”

  She does, and my name escapes from her throat as she comes. I don’t stop. I keep licking her until she’s trembling and oversensitive. Only then do I kiss my way back up her body, and when I reach her mouth, she kisses me hungrily, not caring that she’s tasting herself on my lips.

  “That was—” she starts, still breathless.

  “Not done yet,” I say. I stand long enough to strip off my jeans and boxers, and when I look back at her, her eyes go wide.

  “Fuck,” she whispers, her gaze locked on my cock. “You’re—”

  “Going to fit perfectly,” I finish, grabbing a condom from my wallet. I tear it open and roll it on, then settle back between her thighs.

  The head of my cock presses against her entrance, and I grit my teeth against the urge to thrust inside.

  “I need you to know something first,” I say, even though my control is hanging by a thread.

  “What?”

  “This isn’t just sex for me. It’s more than that. You’re more than that. You’re mine.”

  She hooks her legs around my waist. “Yes. I’m yours, Weston.”

  I push inside slowly, inch by inch, watching her face as I fill her. Her mouth falls open, her eyes squeeze shut, and she makes the most incredible sound. It’s part gasp, part moan, part whimper. I don’t know how the hell she produces the sound, but I do know I want to hear it for the rest of my life.

  “Look at me,” I say roughly.

  Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine, and I bottom out inside her. We both groan at the sensation. She’s so fucking tight around me, gripping me like a vice, and it takes everything I have not to move yet.

  “Okay?” I manage.

  “Yes. God, yes. It’s tight, but you feel so good, Weston.”

  I pull out almost all the way, then thrust back in. She cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders, and I set a steady rhythm. Every thrust feels perfect. Every sound she makes drives me higher. I shift the angle slightly, and she gasps.

  “There,” she pants. “Right there. Fuck, I love how well your cock fits me, Weston.”

  I hit that spot again and again, watching her come apart beneath me. Her plump breasts bounce with each thrust, and I lower my head to capture one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard.

  “Weston, oh god, I’m close again!”

  “Already?” I can’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice. “That’s it. Take it and come, Romy.”

  I reach between us and find her clit, circling it with my thumb in time with my thrusts. She’s babbling incoherent pleas and curses, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.

  “Come on my cock,” I growl in her ear. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

  She does, clenching around me so hard I see stars. The feeling of her pulsing around me, the way she’s crying out and clinging to me, sends me over the edge right after her. I bury myself deep and come hard, groaning her name into her neck as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me and I empty my cock until there’s not a drop left.

  We stay like that for a long moment, both shaking and breathless, our bodies slick with sweat. Finally, I lift my head to look at her. Her eyes are closed. She’s got a blissed-out smile on her lips, and she’s never looked more beautiful.

  “Romy.”

  “Mmm?”

  “I love you.”

  Her eyes fly open.

  “I know it’s soon,” I continue, still buried inside her. “I know we barely know each other. But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you.”

  She reaches up and cups my face in her hands, her eyes shining with what I hope are tears of happiness.

  “I love you too,” she whispers. “I think I started falling for you the moment you opened that door and scowled at me.”

  I huff out a laugh. “That was not my finest moment.”

  She pulls me down for a kiss. “No. But everything after has been. I love you, Weston Hale.”

  “Good.” I kiss her again, deeper this time. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

  “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  “Both.”

  She laughs, and the sound makes me the happiest man alive.

  I pull out carefully and discard the condom, then return to bed and pull her against my chest. She fits perfectly there, her head tucked under my chin, her hand resting over my heart.

  “So what happens now?” she asks quietly.

  “Now?” I tighten my arm around her. “Now, I move my work schedule around so I can be here more than twice a week. Now, I help you with the harvest. Now, I make sure you actually eat meals and sleep occasionally instead of working yourself to death.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like you’re moving in.”

  “Eventually, yeah. If you’ll have me.”