With that, I turn on my heel, fling open the study doors and make my way back out to the dining room. “Tag, can I have a word please?” I say from the doorway.
He’s in the middle of a sip of wine. He sets down his glass and pushes away from the table. “Of course.” He turns to nod at Michael. “Stromberg.”
“Barton,” he cuts back, disdain dripping from his voice.
Tag grins at me as he approaches. To be the caretaker of a vineyard, he sure seems to hold his own with people like my father pretty well.
I don’t say anything when he reaches me. I simply turn and make my way toward the kitchen. I can’t hear Tag’s soft footfalls, but I know he’s behind me. I can feel his silvery eyes traveling the length of my back and butt as I walk. I stop by the fridge for the dish of leftovers from lunch. I hand them to Tag so that I can grab a bottle of wine and two glasses as we pass.
Wordlessly, I make my way out the back door and around to the Jeep, which is still parked in the driveway. I climb into the passenger side and look back at Tag, who is standing a few feet away, watching me. “Well? You got me into this. The least you can do is get me out of here.”
He holds my eyes for a few seconds, long enough for me to feel guilty about lashing out at him when he was only trying to help, but then he nods and walks around to the driver’s side and climbs in.
“Where are we going?” he asks, setting the dish of food on the console between us.
“How about that half-finished cabin with the great view? I’d like to wake up to that sunrise in the morning.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” he asks with a knowing grin, repeating his earlier phrase.
“Yeah, it’s like that,” I answer.
“I’ve heard stories about girls with daddy issues. I hear they can be pretty wild.” There’s a playful glint in his eyes that eases my tension. I feel the tightness that had gathered between my shoulder blades melt away like a sliver of ice in the hot sun.
“Maybe we can get that four-wheeler out later tonight.”
The smile he gives me is bright enough to light up the darkening sky. “Woman, I gotta hand it to you. You brought your daddy issues to the right guy.” Tag gives me a wink as he fires up the engine. I lean my head back, content to watch him drive. It only takes me a few seconds to realize that I feel a little better already. William O’Neal has never made me a priority. Why should I give him so much room to hurt me?
As we pass the rows that we crossed over during the rain last night, I feel the throb of memory begin low in my belly. Meeting Tag might be the thing that saves me. Nothing has ever distracted me from my life as much as he does. His face, his grin, his kiss—they seem to be lurking around the edges of my mind all the time now. And when I let him in, he can easily crowd out other things that I worry about. He’s a powerful influence.
When we reach the partially finished cabin, Tag takes my hand to help me out and then up onto the porch since there are no steps yet. I stop just inside the door. The interior smells like fresh-cut wood and clean mountain air. I inhale deeply, letting the scent wash away the remainder of my cares.
Tag gives me the unofficial tour, showing me the roughed-out rooms, guiding me with his vision of what it will look like when it’s complete. “I’m surprised that Dad agreed to this.”
“Why is that? It’s a great way to expand the business and to bring people to Chiara.”
“I can see that, but he’s always been sort of protective of this place. I don’t know why.”
“Well, this isn’t hurting anything. Only helping it. I’m sure he knows that when he looks at the bottom line. The old cabin had been renting often, which is why it needed renovating.”
“You’ve got a good head for business, Mr. Barton,” I say, turning toward Tag.
“Yes, I’m quite the visionary,” he says quietly. “And right now, I’m having all sorts of exquisite visions.”
He reaches out to brush the backs of his fingers down my cheek. His pale gray eyes look darker in the night. They sparkle like onyx in the low light of the moon filtering in through the mostly open back of the cabin.
“You are? Pray tell.” Even though we’ve made love several times, still my body is vibrating with anxious anticipation. Already, I know that look and I respond instantly to the promise it holds.
“Are you very hungry?”
“For what?”
One side of his mouth quirks up. “For leftovers.”
“Not particularly.”
“Good. I’d hate to starve you.”
When his mouth descends onto mine, all thought of food and Chiara and our unwanted guests drift away on the lightly scented breeze. Tag undresses me at the edge of what will soon be a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sloped fields and gorgeous mountain views. He peels off my clothes and adores every inch of my skin in the lone wedge of silvery light.
When he lays me gently on my back and kisses his way down my stomach, I stare up at the swollen globe of the moon until I can focus no longer, until nothing exists except the thrilling touch of this man between my legs.