Austin fastened his hand around my upper arm, probably assuming I’d land on my face.
“I just tripped to make you feel needed,” I said, dusting myself off even though I hadn’t actually fallen.
“Yes. Thank you for that. And no, I’m not much of a date. At least not as far as relationships go. Just out to have some fun, that’s all.”
“Have some fun, yeah. I heard that line a few times in college. So how does that work? Are you upfront with everyone, or do you get some action and then ghost them, or…”
His expression turned serious. “The town knows exactly where I stand. It is no secret. And if I meet someone I don’t know, then I am upfront, yes. Though…” His brow pinched.
“They don’t believe you,” I guessed, crossing the street.
“No, they don’t. I’ve stopped…entertaining those who are new to the town and plan to stay awhile.”
“Entertaining, huh? I’ve met a few players, in my day. They weren’t very entertaining though, if you know what I mean.” I waggled my eyebrows and grinned, razzing him a little.
“I do know what you mean. You aren’t very subtle.” He held out his hand as we got to the sidewalk, and because I didn’t want to tempt fate by refusing the help, I took it.
He helped me onto the curb like a gentleman from a different era. Once I stepped onto it, he turned and stepped closer, bending down a little to catch my eyes. His face was only a foot from mine, his eyes serious and so incredibly blue.
“I am very entertaining, I can assure you,” he murmured, and I was immersed in his smell, clean cotton and sweet spice. “Multiple times until I am sure she is having a genuinely satisfying night. If you know what I mean.”
He didn’t waggle his eyebrows or grin but spoke with the utmost sincerity, his intensity vibrating through me. My breath caught and butterflies swarmed my belly. I felt unnerved by his sudden proximity. Electrified by the unexpected heat crackling between us. Terrified by my response.
He straightened up and turned, surveying the street, his message delivered.
I sucked in a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding.
The way he’d said genuinely rolled around in my head. The deep rumble of his voice as he’d said it had caressed me in a place that hadn’t been caressed in a while. Hadn’t been properly caressed in a great long time, actually. But it was the confidence behind that word that was sticking with me.
Many men could be fooled into thinking they got the job done, but from the utter conviction in his tone, I suspected that Austin Steele delivered. He made sure he delivered, even. Just like he’d made sure I got home safely the other night. It was becoming clear that when Austin Steele set out to do something, he did it. End of story.
I let out a long, slow breath, my face as hot as my blood. My whole body humming. I wasn’t supposed to be the one who flicked the red light to green. I had to watch myself around him.
“What did you mean about you choosing a solitary life?” I asked, not facing him so he didn’t see the impact of that little tête-à-tête.
He hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “That’s not something that’ll make sense yet. Let’s wait until we have our talk, then you’ll hopefully forget to ask about it.”
“I never forget.”
“No?”
“Okay, yes. I forget everything. Since having Jimmy—my kid—I cannot keep a thought in my head. It’s a problem. It seems like it’s even worse in that house. You know, Ivy House without ivy. I just get lost in a carving and lose all track of my thoughts. Or go up to the library—which is unreal awesome, by the way—and forget what I was doing there. That kinda thing.”
“Tamara Ivy is the one who built the house. When she was murdered within its walls, she imparted her magic to the house. That magic lives there still, on loan to its master. When its master dies, the magic retreats into the house’s walls, waiting for its next master. And the next. And the next. Thus, the house retains the name of its creator. Which winery do you want to start at?”
“First, the nearest winery, obviously. If we don’t like it, we don’t buy anything. Second, what? She was murdered in the house?”
“Yes.” He started walking as I wrapped my mind around that.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. It was hundreds of years ago. More than a thousand, actually.”
“But this town isn’t that old.”
“It is if you read the right records.”
I shook my head, frustrated and already regretting agreeing to this excursion. He hadn’t seemed as crazy as the others, and then this came…
I checked my damaged phone, the screen spiderwebbed with cracks. I’d apparently dropped it on my run without realizing it. Niamh had found it on the sidewalk and brought it over this morning. I owed her one. The poor phone hadn’t fared very well, but it was still working. Mostly.
“What do you mean, she imparted her magic to the house?” I asked. “Is that your way of saying she haunts Ivy House? Because you said you hadn’t heard any rumors about the house being haunted.”
He stopped in front of the second winery along our path, having apparently decided to be choosey. “You’ll need to forget everything you’ve ever known for this conversation.”
“Pretty hard.”
“You’ll need to keep an open mind.”
“I can do that.”
He jerked his head at the tasting room. “The woman who works here knows everything I am about to tell you. That is the only reason I’ll be frank with you when she’s in earshot.”
I felt my eyebrows lowering, suddenly very uncomfortable. Maybe it was because we’d gone from that whole genuinely situation to talking about some woman knowing everything, but my mind jumped to places I did not want to go. Sexual places that were sticky and raunchy, and honestly I didn’t want to know him well enough to throw open the closet doors and see all his skeletons.
He opened the door to the tasting room and stepped aside. I looked into the cheery interior and thought about running.
“Come on, I won’t bite,” he said.
Shivers coated my body. The glimmering blue of his eyes and the definition of his muscles made another genuinely curl through my mind.
“Sure, yeah, why not,” I mumbled, skulking through the door.
A twenty-something girl with dirty blonde, lazy curls falling past her shoulders gave me a professional smile.
“Welcome,” she said. Her eyes lit up when Austin walked in behind me. “Austin Steele, hello! Finally got you in for a tasting, huh?”
If he noticed her fawning he didn’t show it. His expression was flat, his eyes hard. “I need to talk business. Just the essential information to get us set up will do.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” With flustered movements and a flushed face (probably not unlike mine from a moment ago), she busied herself behind the bar. “I’ll just open fresh bottles, if you’ll give me a moment.”
Taking stock of the situation, I lowered an elbow to the counter. On second thought, I could hear about a couple of skeletons if it meant getting preferential treatment. Who was I to say no to fresh bottles and eager staff?
The glasses clinked as she placed them on the counter. “I’m Donna,” she said for my benefit. “Should I start from the top of the pouring list?”
I glanced at Austin. He looked at me.
“Well, do you want to try whites?” I asked him.
“I want the experience. You lead.”
“Okay, but here’s the thing.” I took in his robust chest, thick arms, trim but not small hips, and powerful thighs. “You’re a big stack of muscle. How long will it take you to feel alcohol? Because I refuse to take part in this if I’m the only ridiculous one. We’ve already been down that road. It’s an embarrassing road.”
“You weren’t ridiculous, you were hilarious.”
I raised my eyebrows, waiting.
His crooked smile made him incredibly handsome. “I can hold out longer than you, but not as long as Niamh.”
“Not as long as Niamh could be anything. She’s an endless pit.”
“I’ll keep on your level, how’s that?” Austin said, still wrestling with that smile. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t just let it gleam. He looked better for it and I liked the view. “Somehow. You don’t have much tolerance.”
Donna poured out a taste for me and a full glass for Austin.
“No tolerance?” I said, aghast. “I drank a bottle and a half of wine the other night.”
“Yes.”
I lifted my eyebrows at him. He returned the expression.
“Well. I’m not going to try and work on it. You can just forget it,” I said, turning fully toward the counter. “That way lies alcoholism.”
“Wait…is she a Jane?” Donna asked.
I threw up my hands. “What is with this town? I thought small towns were supposed to be welcoming. I am not a freaking tourist. I’m only in here because Austin asked me to come. That’s it. I have a job. Let it go, people.”
“Jess is the one that just moved into the Ivy House,” Austin explained.
Donna gave a long, drawn out, “Oh.” Clearly she’d heard of me.