Page 145 of White Lies
“You don’t want to drive my broken-down Mercedes?”
“Nothing against your broken-down Mercedes, but I prefer the BMW.”
I laugh. “Okay then. Let’s pack.”
“You don’t have to pack. You live here now. But I do, because I live there now, too.”
“Yes. You do. You need things there. Your things.”
His lips curve, and he says, “You’re my thing. But I’ll take some stuff anyway.”
“I’ll help you,” I say, and for the next few minutes, I busy myself gathering items for his suitcase and packing up the few items I want to carry back and forth with me. Once we’re done, we load up the car.
And then for the first time all week, Nick and I leave in one car, him behind the wheel of the BMW. By the time we get to the courthouse, my palms are sweaty. “Relax, Faith,” Nick says after opening my car door and helping me to my feet. “I’m an arrogant bastard for a reason. I’m good. Really damn good, and we’re going to win today.”
“But we’ve talked about this. What if someone is angry you got me out of this nightmare and they lash out at you? What if I’m the reason—”
“Stop,” he says, his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t start fretting over me. I pack a big punch. Anyone who comes at me is going to feel a hell of a lot of pain, and they know it. I got this, sweetheart, and I got you. Okay?”
“Yes. Yes, okay.” I flatten my hand on his lapel. “Youarea badass.”
He rewards me with a curve of his delicious mouth. “You inspire me.”
I manage a laugh. “I’m not sure that is the way a woman wants to inspire a man.”
“If a woman doesn’t inspire her man, he’s not her man. Now. Come see me in action.”
…
Literally thirty minutes later, Nick and I step out of the courtroom, and the bank has approved the buyout, I’ve inherited the winery, and Nick has shut down every attempt my bank made to stop it from happening. “I don’t believe it,” I say as soon as we’re in the car. “It’s done.”
“You doubted me?”
“No. I did not doubt you.”
“Sounds like you doubted me.” He leans over and kisses me. “And that, I do believe, earns that sweet little ass of yours a spanking.”
“Hmmm. Promise?”
“Oh yeah, sweetheart. I promise.” He settles back in his seat. “Let’s go to Sonoma.”
A few minutes later, we’re on the road, and life is good. Almost too good to be true.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Faith
“We’re here, sweetheart.”
I blink and open my eyes. “Nick?”
“Yes, sweetheart.Nick. You fell asleep. We’re home.”
I blink again. “Home?”
“Sonoma.”
“We are?”