I’m a part of the Molina family legacy, one of the oldest families in all the Napa Valley, yet I feel like there’s nothing I can do. It’s slipping out of my grasp right before my eyes and I’m powerless to stop it. Though maybe I could stall Gage for a little while . . .
But how can I hold him off? What can I do to stop him from changing my life forever?
You’re a smart, strong woman. You can come up with something.
Sometimes I swear it feels like the voice inside my head is not my own.
It’s our turn to order at the bar, and Gage asks for a beer while I order a glass of sparkling wine, locally produced. I’m ultraconscious of supporting our area businesses. After all, I’d hope for the same in regards to my business.
My failing business, thank you very much.
He pays for my drink, and I let him. He’s still trying to figure out who I am; I can tell by his scrunched brows, his narrowed eyes. We move away from the bar but remain standing nearby. His back is facing everyone else still in line, and he’s turned toward me while I’m leaning against the wall. He’s got me effectively trapped, though I don’t feel it. I rather like being surrounded by Gage Emerson.
Even though I shouldn’t.
Gage
I CAN’T PLACE her, but I swear I’ve heard of her before. Maybe even met her though I can’t recall where. Archer’s hotel opening, maybe? I don’t know. I met an endless stream of people at that specific event, though they weren’t overly friendly. Most everyone in the Napa Valley still treats me like an outsider.
Marina Knight . . . it’s her first name that’s tripping me up. I don’t know many Marinas. Or even one aside from her. Who does? But this one . . . she’s beautiful. And not what I expected—though really? What the hell could I expect? I don’t know her.
At least I don’t think I do. And damn it, I’m too distracted by her pretty face. I think she’s screwing with my brain.
All that calm, contained elegance she wears so eloquently is seductive. Honey-blonde hair that falls in gentle waves to the middle of her back. Cool, assessing blue eyes that seem to see right through me and are amused with what they find. Her mouth is slicked with a deep, ruby red lipstick and she presses her lips together before she flashes a mysterious little smile. Just looking at the gentle curve of them sets my blood on fire.
Not a good sign.
She’s of average height, hitting me at about my shoulder, and she’s wearing a simple black dress that covers her completely yet clings to every delicious curve. She screams both ice queen and touch me—an alluring combination I’m finding harder to resist the longer I’m in her company.
Lately, I’ve sworn off women completely. I enjoy spending time with them. I appreciate them like any other man. But they’re a total distraction when I don’t need one, always wanting more than I can give. Focusing on my business is the ultimate goal at the moment. Starting up a relationship with the potential for it to turn serious?
I don’t think so.
Truly, that is the absolute last thing I want. Especially after witnessing my best friend Archer Bancroft fall hopelessly in love—with my little sister Ivy, for God’s sake. I know that’s not the path I’m ready to take.
Plus, there’s a hell of a lot of money on the line. The asshole friend of ours who came up with the million-dollar bet, Matt DeLuca, is laughing hysterically at me right now. I can feel it; I can always feel it. I think he’s here somewhere, probably spying on me as I talk to this woman I don’t even know. All the while he’s got that new assistant of his following him everywhere, sending him longing glances while he’s an oblivious idiot.
She’s got the hots for him, the poor thing.
We were at a friend’s wedding when the three of us declared we never wanted to get married. We must’ve been drunk when we did it, but we all bet each other we’d never let ourselves get tied down to a woman. And the last single man wins one million dollars.
Fucking crazy.
If I have my way, Matt definitely won’t win. Smug bastard. He thinks this situation we’ve all found ourselves in is hilarious. He believes he’s got winning our stupid bet covered. Mister Lone Wolf has thrown himself completely into the renovation of the winery he recently bought. Women don’t interest him, he told me just the other day. Maybe for a quick romp between the sheets, but nothing that could last. Nothing serious.
All the while, his very attractive assistant is sitting not ten feet away from us, her body stiff. I swear to God, her head tilted toward us so she could totally listen in on our conversation.
I’m with him one hundred percent in that regard. Let Archer take the fall—alone. He’s thrilled to be playing house with my sister, which still blows my mind. Ivy’s just as enamored with him. Funny, considering how not that long ago they argued all the damn time. I figured they hated each other.