“What’s it like, this house of yours?” I asked as we walked through an empty waiting area. William’s penthouse was majorly impressive, so I had no idea what to expect in St. Helena. He didn’t answer, so I kept chattering. “You haven’t mentioned anything about it and I’m so curious.” I was trying to keep things light and cheerful and I really was excited, but I was also doing everything I could to not ask about the sexy brunette in his welcoming committee. He just smiled and led me to the exit.
We stepped outside and William paused, then veered me toward a stunning vintage silver Porsche convertible parked at the curb. I looked up and his smile had broadened into a wide grin
“Wow,” I said as I stopped and admired the car.
William walked to the passenger side and opened the door for me. “Get in,” he said.
I did and he waited until I pulled my legs in and buckled my seatbelt before he closed the door. He’s being so sweet, I thought as I watched him round the front of the car. He was still all smiles, his gait easy. He seemed more relaxed here, more comfortable, while I was trying not to let on that I was anything but.
Once he was in the driver’s seat, he turned and asked, “Will you be warm enough? I’d like to keep the top down, but I’ll put it up if you want.”
“I’ll be fine,” I smiled. “Top down. Definitely.” I was wearing a sweater, and after witnessing William’s welcoming committee, I could use a little cooling off.
“Excellent choice. Ready?”
I nodded. William smiled again and then started the engine. The car turned over with a purr and we pulled away. The clear sky was streaked with the colors of the setting sun as we sped out of the airport, and my heart felt too full when William took my hand and entwined his fingers with mine.
The wind was whipping my hair around my face and I wished I had a ponytail holder, but it wasn’t too loud to talk. “So this is a Porsche, right?” I asked. Of course it was a Porsche, but I also couldn’t help but notice that he seemed particularly proud of it and I wanted to know why. As wealthy as he was, I hadn’t seen him act so attached to a thing before, so this was new.
“Yep,” he answered. “This is my California car.”
“It’s the perfect car for here,” I said. “When did you get it?”
“It was my father’s, actually.”
I swallowed my surprise and attempted to act nonchalant. William so rarely talked about his family. I knew there was something special about this car.
He nodded and continued, “It’s a 1969 Speedster. My mother gave it to my father for his fortieth birthday. I was about five and I remember what a big deal it was. My father loved this car. He kept it at our lake house and only drove it in the summers. It was put in storage after they died.”
My heart clenched. This was why I came to California. This was the side of William I wanted to see. “Why did you get it out of storage?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to drive it. I wanted to drive it my whole life. After I bought the vineyard in Napa, I had it restored and shipped out here.” Then he smiled. “It is the perfect car for California.”
And he looked perfect in it. His dark hair whipped back from his face, showcasing his strong cheekbones and straight nose. He had the most beautiful profile of any man I’d ever met, especially with the golden light of the early evening flickering across his skin. He looked a whole lot more comfortable and relaxed driving the Porsche than he ever did behind the wheel of his black Range Rover in Chicago.
William squeezed my hand again before releasing it to grab the gear shift. “Hang on. It’s about a forty minute drive.” He shifted, and the car jumped smoothly forward.
I laughed from sheer pleasure, and he laughed with me. Neither of us had forgotten the reason we were in California. Wyatt was never far from my thoughts or, I’m sure, William’s, but already he seemed happier here. I’d never seen him smile or laugh so much. Maybe it had been a good decision to come with him after all. I started to relax a little too.
The drive was amazing, even for a native Californian like me. I’d been to Napa before, but I never paid much attention to the rolling hills and green square fields, divided into rows and rows of grapes. I wanted to grab my camera and shoot a few landscapes, but I knew I’d have time for that later. William threaded his fingers through mine or rested his hand on my thigh when he didn’t need to shift, and his touch helped keep me warm.
Finally, William turned into a drive lined with trees. “We’re almost there,” he said. The drive was long and straight, slightly uphill, and the trees formed a canopy overhead until we finally emerged. Set among lush bushes and more trees was a very large Mediterranean-style stucco house with a vivid red tile roof. “This is home,” William said.