He just couldn’t seem to stop acting like he was.
When he glanced at her, she looked straight ahead. Why was she even thinking about this stuff? It didn’t matter, and if she didn’t start paying attention, she’d tumble right down the narrow steps the guide was leading them down into the wine cellar where thousands of bottles were racked and stocked from the floor to the ceiling.
Something was different about Chase today as he joked with his brothers and Mitch. Like a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there yesterday morning had set in. She hoped it wasn’t from sleeping on that terrible couch.
The air was several degrees cooler in the wine cellar, and she rubbed her arms, chasing the chill away. Since wine storage wasn’t of much interest to her, she roamed off, following the maze of bottles.
Good Lord, if she were claustrophobic, being down here would be a problem with how tight and narrow and tall the racks were.
Her flip-flops smacked on the cement floor as she tried to read the names on the bottles. Most of them were unpronounceable to her and honestly, she’d go to the grave before she had another sip of that stuff.
The voices of the group faded off as her fingers trailed along the chilled bottles. She wasn’t a big drinker, obviously. Last night had been out of the norm.
Stopping at the edge of the rack, she glanced over her shoulder, suddenly realizing she couldn’t hear anyone anymore. Frowning, she backtracked to where she thought she’d left them, but no one was there.
“Crap,” she muttered, hurrying down an aisle.
This wasn’t happening. They did not leave her. Tightening her grip on the water bottle, she barrelled around the corner, smacked right off a hard chest, and almost landed on her ass.
Chase snatched her arm before she ended up on her rear. “Whoa. You okay?”
Blinking, she nodded. “I didn’t know you were there.” She took a step back, ignoring the sudden increase in her heart rate. Her reaction was ridiculous. “Why are you here?”
He cocked his head to the side. “The group is moving on to lunch.”
“Oh?” Since she wasn’t bouncing around in that horrible truck, her stomach perked up happily.
A half grin appeared. “It’s a picnic, I hear, out in the actual vineyards.”
That sounded incredibly tasty and romantic. “Well, we better hurry, then.”
Stepping aside, Chase let her walk by. He followed behind her silently, and she wished he’d say something. Anything. But then again, she had no idea what to say, either. The awkwardness that had developed between them sucked. Proof positive why friends of any sort should never cross that invisible line… At least not unless they planned on crossing all the way.
When they reached the entrance, Chase swore under his breath. “Where in the hell is everyone?”
A horrible sensation snaked its way through the pit of her stomach as she glanced up and down the empty aisles. There was no sound other than Chase’s soft breath and her pounding heart.
“They didn’t…?” She trailed off, unable to accept what was happening.
“No.” He edged around her and pounded up the steps. Another loud curse and banging caused her to wince.
Madison found him at the top of the stairs, his hands on his hips. “Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”
“We’re locked in.” Disbelief colored Chase’s tone.
“You have got to be kidding.” She squeezed past him and tried the door, jiggling the handle. Nothing. She wanted to smack her head off the door but figured since her headache had finally eased, that was not a good idea. “They left us.”
Chase leaned against the cool cement blocks, closing his eyes. “They have to realize we’re missing. They’ll come back. Soon. It won’t be that long.”
Boy, she hoped so. She was already colder than a witch’s tit, but as five minutes passed and then ten, it wasn’t looking like a rescue was going to happen anytime soon.
Madison dropped down on the step, chasing away the goose bumps on her bare legs with her hands. “You know, I’m kind of offended that no one has even realized we’re not with them.”
He chuckled and settled onto the step above her, leaning forward and crossing his hands on his bent knees. His face was nearly eye-level with hers, so now she didn’t have to tilt her head to talk to him. “Yeah, it does wonders for your self-esteem, doesn’t it?”
“I bet they’re enjoying their lunch, too. Eating finger sandwiches, drinking club soda, and thinking, ‘Hmm, the group seems different, but oh, never mind, we have pickled eggs!’”