Page 24 of Talk Vino To Me
“My brother Tyler floated me a substantial loan in order to get this place set up and running. He also hooked me up with The Connor Group so I could ‘spread the risk’ as they say in investment douchebro land.” Ty said it was a gift, but screw him. I will be paying him back with interest. All seven figures of it.
“I didn’t want you to know that. I didn’t want you to think I’m some naïve idiot who couldn’t even figure out that his accountant was screwing him over.”
“Ian, that doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Do you love me or not?”
“I do.”
“Good. Because I love you, too. The rest is just noise.”
Fuck me. I don’t deserve her love. I am not worthy of the trust and tenderness I see in her eyes.
“Daisy, are you sure?” My voice trembles. “We’re talking millions of dollars. That’s more than noise.”
“We just have to be brave, right?” She smiles up at me. “I know you can do that. All you have to do is use a little?—”
“Don’t say it,” I groan, kissing her fiercely. “Just don’t.”
She laughs into my mouth, and then our kisses turn serious. For a while, we forget all about the rest of the world.
But she’s right. We can figure this out. We’ll take this leap together.
All it takes is a little Courage.
Dez
SIX MONTHS LATER
Irearrange the pillows on the settee. There. That’s perfect.
Then I adjust them again, setting the deep green velvet cushions on the diagonal. Now I’m done. It’s a good look. They pop against the leather. Really. It’s great. Casual, but not sloppy. We don’t want to look like we’re trying too hard.
I reach for them one more time, but Ian grabs me around the waist, lifting me off the floor. I squeal as he spins me around in his arms, laughing as he presses my body against his.
“He’s not gonna care about the cushions,” Ian smugly informs me. “You know that, right?”
“You can’t be sure of that, Ian.” I wag a finger at him. “What if he shows up, prepared to play his heart out, but walks in and is immediately disgusted by this messy arrangement on our couch? Think of the shame, Ian. We’d never live it down.”
“You know he lives in a tent in the Siuslaw National Forest for half of the year, right?” Ian’s deep chuckle resonates through my entire body. “He’s still hoping they’ll let him have a permanent campsite someday, as an award for his services to music.”
Ian kisses my forehead. “He’s not going to care about the cushions.”
I’m about to reply when the tasting room door swings open and he walks in. I almost swallow my tongue in excitement.
Frederick Jones III is taller in person than I expected. He’s of a similar height to Ian. Dressed in dark trousers, a loose black button down, and a cool as hell black duster, every inch of him looks like the senior statesman of rockstars. Close-cropped silver hair, gleaming deep brown skin, and a badass pair of aviator shades complete the look.
Somehow I manage not to scream out loud, though inside I’m doing cartwheels. Shredrick is in my presence. Less than twenty feet away. I want to run to my bedroom, get all my friends from high school on a group call and giggle into the phone about the fact that I am close enough to see his pores.
(Holy cannoli. He has pores. Like a normal person! My inner thirteen year old is definitely in charge of my brain right now.)
Ian and Shred exchange brusque man hugs.
“Glad you could make it, man,” Ian says. His voice is muffled in that way that hints at him having an actual emotion. He’ll probably have to lie down later, just to get over it.
Shred pulls back to look at him, before patting Ian on the shoulder. “Anything for you, E.I. You know that.”