Billionaire Bachelors Club 3 : Savor(5)

Matt's crisp, business-like tone shakes me from my thoughts, and I glance up to find him standing in front of my desk, a concerned expression etched into his features. His brow is wrinkled, his head tilted to the side, as if he's trying to figure out exactly what's wrong with me.

Certainly can't tell him that he's what's wrong with me, now can I?

"Yes sir." I give him a close-lipped smile, my new standard since my old one was bright and toothy and caused way too many problems. Gave men the wrong impression.

"You have plans to attend, correct?" One dark brow rises as he waits for my answer.

My mouth goes dry, I lick my lips, and notice the way his gaze falls to my mouth for the briefest moment before he looks me in the eye once more. "Correct," I say, mimicking him. I need to be there to make sure everything goes well. Even though I'm beyond intimidated to even show up.

What if . . . what if he brings a date? I'll be devastated. I'll have to pretend everything's fine and carry on with my job, but inside, I'll die a little.

Which is dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

"Good." He nods once. "I need you there."

"I'll be there," I say weakly, thankful I'm sitting down since my knees feel a little wobbly. Heaven help me, I like the fact that he said he needs me there.

That he needs me.

"Thank you." Matt nods once and heads toward the doorway that leads outside. "I'll be out in the orchard. Text me if you need me."

"Will do. And have fun," I call to him, my gaze dropping to his jean-clad backside. He'd dressed casually from the very start, considering he spent much of his time out in the vineyards, learning what it took to produce a quality grape that would, in turn, produce a quality wine. He wears jeans and button-down shirts that he often rolls up to the elbow, revealing those strong, tanned forearms that make my mouth water.

On occasion, he shows up in a suit. Usually when he has a meeting at the office with someone important. An investor, a wholesaler, and the like. Those days are the worst. My concentration is shot. The man can fill out a suit like no other. Those wide shoulders and broad chest, the dark hair that's a little longish in the back-a throwback to his baseball playing days, I swear. His thick, brown hair waves at the ends in the most appealing way. As in, always making my fingers itch to comb through it. 

I barely restrain myself. The man is like a drug, and I'm hopelessly addicted. Not only hopelessly, I'm happily addicted. It's ridiculous, how much I think about him.

But he doesn't seem to think about me whatsoever.

My cell phone rings, and I see that it's Ivy, so I answer. I don't like taking personal calls at work. Not that Matt's ever said anything, but it doesn't feel right.

And not that I get a bunch of personal calls. I don't have a lot of friends since I'm still relatively new to the area. I don't have a boyfriend because men are nothing but trouble, and my grandma certainly never calls me. She acts like I don't even exist most of the time.

"You must come shopping with me this Saturday," she declares when I answer.

Dread sinks my stomach to my toes. I wanted to. I let her talk me into it. But the more I've thought it over, the more I've realized I can't afford the places she shops at. She's loaded. I am definitely not. "Ivy, I appreciate you wanting to take me out, but I really can't spend too much money on the dress," I explain to her turning my chair, so I can stare out the window that faces the nearby vineyards.

I can see Matt out there, talking to the field manager, his hair gleaming in the sunlight, his white button-down stretched across his shoulders in the most appealing manner. "I'm going to hit up Ross or someplace," I go on. "That's more the price range I'm looking at for this."

"You are so not going to Ross." Ivy sighs, sounding completely bent out of shape. "I have a plan and you're a part of it so you must come shopping with me. And I'm bringing a friend. You'll adore her. She's my brother's girlfriend and she's a total sweetheart."

Great. I know Ivy's brother Gage Emerson is a high-powered real estate hotshot who helped Matt find the winery in the first place. He's rich and gorgeous. Just like Matt. Just like Ivy's fiancé, Archer Bancroft.

And then there's me, little ol' Bryn James from Cactus, Texas who grew up in a doublewide and was dirt-poor my entire life. I shed my skin like the snakes that lived beneath our mobile home and started a new life. Here, in California, the Golden State.

Some of the gold's become tarnished since I got here but it's nothing a little polish can't fix.

"Sounds-"

"Like your worst nightmare?" Ivy laughs while I sit there in shock. How did she know? "I like you, Bryn. A lot. And I think you like me too."