“Well. There’s a little boutique store in the town of Napa. They have some really cute dresses that I think would look stunning on you.” She wrote the address down and handed me the piece of paper.
“Thank you . . . and I don’t think of this as a fling, just so you know. I’m not like that. I like Jamie, and I think he likes me.” She nodded but didn’t respond. I was looking for validation from her. I had no plans to hurt Jamie, but I couldn’t tell if she believed me. Worse than that, she didn’t exactly verify his feelings for me. “Thank you again for this,” I said as I headed out the door. I glanced into R.J.’s office and saw only an empty chair. Hands-on? Yeah, right.
On my way to the car, I spotted a familiar pair of work boots. Jamie was crouching by a long wrought iron fence that surrounded the pool. From where I stood, I could see little glimmers of light popping into the air. I walked toward him hesitantly. There was a square machine on the ground, and I spotted the welding rod in his hand. He was wearing a hood and gloves, but other than that, no protective gear, just a white T-shirt and jeans. I approached unnoticed and stood over him to watch as he welded a bar back into the fence. There were sparks flying all over, and some landed on his forearms, but he seemed unaffected by it. When he finally noticed me standing beside him, he stopped immediately and turned off the welder. He stood up with ease and pushed his hood back, revealing his damp face.
“You shouldn’t look at the light. You’ll get flash burns,” he said.
“Where did you learn to weld?”
“My dad taught me.” He wiped his sweaty face with the back of his arm. I noticed he had a six-inch hunting knife sheathed in a light brown leather holster attached to his belt.
“What’s that?” I asked stupidly.
“A knife.”
“What for?”
He smirked. “Cutting things.”
I just couldn’t imagine being with a man who welded fences and cut things. That might sound stupid, but it took Stephen three days to put together a piece-of-shit IKEA desk. He had to ask the super of our building what an Allen wrench was—just another reason the super couldn’t stand him. Stephen didn’t even own a pair of jeans. He got manicures and pedicures at the same nail salon as I did. But he was educated and business savvy—he had that going for him. Yet so did Jamie, it seemed. There was nothing businesslike about Jamie, but there was something mysterious and uniquely brilliant about him. He was the best of both worlds. In my tiny, thirty-second fantasy, as I stood there staring at his knife, I imagined him fighting off wild beasts with it. Shirtless.
“Katy?”
“Yeah.”
“Does the knife bother you?”
“Well, it’s not like you kill things with it,” I said, even though I was fantasizing about him doing that very thing. He arched his eyebrows very slightly, but other than that, his expression didn’t change. “Right?”
“Well, we have rattlers here and we raise animals . . .” His voice trailed off.
“You slaughter animals with that knife?”
“I’m not usually the person who does that. We have a professional. I promise you, it’s very humane, but I’ve had to assist a few times in the past.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“I know, I’m sorry, but you asked.” He paused, gauging my expression. “Killing is not always violent. Sometimes it’s merciful.” He seemed repentant.
“I was just surprised, that’s all. One less rattlesnake in my vicinity is all the better.” I smiled.
“Where are you headed to?”
“I’m going into Napa just to browse around for a bit.”
“Don’t run your car into anything,” he said with no trace of humor.
I reached out to sock him in the arm, but he caught my fist midair, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it. My knees wobbled. I turned and began walking away, but when I looked back he was still watching me, just as I expected. He was smiling with curiosity in his eyes. “See you at four, sailor,” I shouted back.
My driving skills had not improved since my accident. GPS lady got me to the boutique, but I drove half the speed limit. Cars whizzed by, honking at me the entire way. When I finally got inside the store, I spotted my dress immediately. It was a simple three-quarter-sleeve black dress with a plunging neckline. It came to just above my knee but was a little longer in the back. Perfect, I thought. Sexy, not slutty. I twirled around inside the dressing room for exactly ten seconds before changing back and heading for the register.
“Great choice,” the young female clerk said. “Are you, by any chance, Kate from R. J. Lawson?”
“Yes. I’m a guest there. How did you know?”
“Susan asked that we bill your purchases to the winery. She said anything you want.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly. Is this something they do often?”