THEY STAYED THERE ON the couch for the next hour, as he gave her a massage and she rewrote the newsletter, with occasional interjections from him on things to add or change.
Luke had been pissed, really pissed, when she’d made that crack about what he’d come over for. It wasn’t until they were back inside, and she’d kissed him like that on the couch, that he realized why. He loved having sex with Margot, fucking loved it—it got better every time; he still felt lucky that he got to do it, that he got to kiss her and touch her and hear how she responded to him and got to feel her hands and lips and tongue on him. But that wasn’t why he’d rushed over to her house that day. Or any other day. He just wanted to be around her, be with her, talk to her, hold her, make her feel good, make her happy. The way he felt when he was with her.
And in that moment, when she’d said that to him, he’d worried that she didn’t feel the same way. That all she wanted from him was sex. That had been all she wanted that first night, she’d been pretty clear about that. But he didn’t think she felt like that anymore. Even though she hadn’t told anyone at the winery about them. Of course she hadn’t—why had he even asked that? He had been her employee only a few weeks ago, and he knew things were weird between her and her brother. It was fine.
He’d almost told her about seeing Grant at the inn, but something had stopped him. If he did that, he’d have to talk about what Grant had said, and how he’d been irritated about it all week. And he didn’t want to talk to Margot about that; he was still embarrassed that he’d told her in the car on the way back from the auction why he’d quit, and that he sometimes felt like he hadn’t been good enough, strong enough, for that job. He didn’t want her to think that, too.
He dropped another kiss on the back of her neck. She let out a soft sigh, pressed a few buttons on her laptop, and closed it.
“I think I’m done for tonight.” She set the laptop on the coffee table and turned all the way around to face him. “I’m really glad you’re coming to the party.”
He pushed her hair back from her face.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
She leaned forward and kissed him hard.
“You know . . . while I know that’s not why you came over, I still like that a whole lot.”
He laughed and put his hand on her waist.
“I really hope I didn’t give you the impression that isn’t important to me, because it is, very much so. Especially when you look at me like you are right now.”
She reached for his belt.
“Does that mean I can take off your pants?”
He leaned back on the couch.
“You can do whatever you want to me.”
She smiled, her fingers already pulling his fly open.
“Whatever I want?” She had a glint in her eye that he liked an enormous amount. “I’m going to keep that in mind. However.” She pulled his pants all the way down and tossed them to the side, and then she stroked the length of him. He’d be embarrassed at how fast he responded to her, if he didn’t know how much she liked it. “We’ll do whatever I want next time,” she said. “What do you want? Right now?”
He knew she knew the answer to that question. He smiled at her as she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“I want your mouth on me,” he said. “Right now.”
She tugged his boxers down and knelt over him on the couch. And then she sucked him into her mouth, and he couldn’t help the low moan he let out.
He kept his eyes open so he could watch her. He liked how intent she got when she did this—she worked her tongue, and her teeth, and her fist hard, and she looked so fucking hot while she was doing it. It felt so good that soon he couldn’t think about what she was doing, but was just trying to hold on, make it last longer. But then she moved faster, and he came so hard he couldn’t think of anything at all.
She crawled up and laid her head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.
“I did not come over for that,” he said. “Or, rather, just for that. But I’m really fucking glad it happened.”
She laughed and moved one of his hands down to her breast.
“That was a remarkably chaste massage you gave me, you know,” she said. “But despite that . . .” She pulled her dress down, that tight dress that clung to her boobs and ass, and moved his thumb over to her nipple. “These have been hard for the past hour.”
“Mmm, I’m very glad you told me that,” he said. “I have a feeling that the next massage I give you will be significantly less chaste.” He pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders and reached around to unclasp her bra.
“Bedroom,” he said. “Now.”
When they got into her bedroom, he pulled her dress all the way off, tossed her bra on the floor, and pushed her underwear down and kicked it aside. Then he backed her onto the bed and pushed her until she fell onto it. She lay there and looked up at him.
“I like it when you tell me what to do,” he said. “I like it a lot. But now, it’s my turn to be in charge.”
He saw from the look on her face that she liked that.
“Well, then,” she said. “What are you going to do with me?”
He looked down at her, naked in front of him. He wanted to touch her everywhere. He wanted her to think of him, and this night, every time she looked at her left knee, or touched that dimple in her thigh.
He put a hand on the arch of her foot, ran it all the way up the inside of her leg, and then down the other side.
“Everything,” he said.
Nineteen
THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY, LUKE had just pulled into the lot at the inn when he got a text from Craig.
CRAIG
Hey Luke—Brian’s leaving, his job is opening. Interested? Let me know if you want to talk about this
Craig wanted to know if he was interested in Brian’s job? He was stunned. He never would have expected this two months ago. Hell, he never would have expected this five minutes ago. He’d assumed his bridges there were all burned, but even before that, he’d assumed that no one there particularly valued him, or his work. Hadn’t they all thought he wasn’t smart enough, tough enough, good enough? Was he wrong about that? He must have been, if they wanted him to even apply for Brian’s job.
He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Six months ago he would have been thrilled. He should still feel that way, shouldn’t he? He guessed he sort of did. Flattered? Yeah, definitely. Triumphant that they’d come back to him, after everything? Yeah, that, too, he supposed. Nervous? Suspicious? Maybe a little angry, all over again, at how they’d treated him?
All of that, too.
Was this for real? Craig had always been good to him. He wouldn’t have reached out if they already had someone else in mind and this was just some bullshit fake interview, right?
He walked into the inn, but before he could set his coffee down and figure out how to reply to Craig’s text, his mom walked in with Pete.
“Before you yell at me, I’m only here for a second to sign those checks,” she said.
“I was going to bring those to your house later on today, you know,” he said. He knew she was only here because she couldn’t stay away.
“I know, I know, but you’ve done so much for me already. Plus, Pete had to take me to the doctor today, so it was on the way.” He just looked at her. “Well, okay, not that far out of the way.”
“I tried,” Pete said.
He looked at Pete and they both laughed.
“But look, I have a new cast!” his mom said. “A lighter one!”
“You’re still supposed to rest for the next few weeks, that’s what the doctor said,” Pete said.
She made a face.
“I will, I swear. But I’ve missed this place.” She looked around the lobby, a smile on her face. “How was your weekend?”
He’d spent every moment of it that he could with Margot. She’d been at the winery a lot, but they’d been together every night and every morning. She’d cooked an elaborate meal for him the night before, and he had leftovers for lunch.
“It was great,” he said.
His mom beamed at him. Oh. Oh no. He could feel that smile that had been on his face. It had been involuntary—it must have just appeared there when he’d thought about Margot. And his mom must think . . .
“You spent it with Avery, then?” she asked. “Good, I’m glad she got some time off, too. That girl works too much.”
He wanted to correct her, tell her that no, he hadn’t been with Avery, he’d been with Margot. That he wasn’t with Avery, he was with Margot.
He couldn’t tell her that, though. He was stuck now, in this lie that he’d been stuck in for weeks. At first, it had felt harmless, even kind of funny. A joke between him and Avery, a silly story to his mom, but one that was no big deal, one that he’d correct eventually, once he figured out what he was doing next.
But now it felt so false, when he was smiling like that about Margot, for his mom to think that it was about Avery. It almost felt like a betrayal of Margot. It definitely felt like a real lie, not just the fudging of the truth it had been at the beginning, where he mostly just hadn’t corrected his mom. And he really fucking hated it.