He descends the few steps and gives me a bear hug. When he leans back, we exchange a look that says a lot. It says we’re glad to see each other. It says we’ve been through hell together. It says we’re both happy that the threat to our group is neutralized. Yet neither of us has to say a word.
When his gray eyes flicker to Katie, I turn and put my hand at her lower back. “Tag Barton, meet Katie Rydale.”
I see his eyes sweep her appreciatively. He’s my friend and I know he means nothing by it. It’s a guy thing—checking a woman out that way. But more than that, it’s a Delta Five thing. It’s habit now, I’m sure, for all of us to observe, to take in details, to make all kinds of mental notes. It’s part of our training.
I grit my teeth and suck it up, because he’s my friend and this is important. What I’m not prepared for, though, is Katie’s reaction. Her smile is small and shy, like it used to be for me, but her eyes flicker up to his and away, up to his and away. Like she can’t stop looking at him.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. Tag has always had that effect on women. With his jet-black hair, dark skin and silvery eyes, he makes quite an impression. Plus, he’s always had this air of . . . I don’t even know. Something different. But women love it, whatever it is. I guess I was just assuming that Katie would be immune to it.
“Such a pleasure to meet you, Katie. Rogan said you were beautiful, but not that you were this beautiful,” he says charmingly.
I watch Katie’s cheeks bloom with color as she shakes his hand. I have to ball my fists to keep from pulling her back.
But then, just before I end up doing or saying something stupid, she backs away on her own, curling into my side and winding an arm around my waist. When I look down at her, she’s already looking up at me. Her eyes are pools of sapphire and her lips are curved into a smile, the smile that she only gives to me.
This is why I don’t have to worry. This is why I don’t have to be jealous. She’s as nuts over me as I am over her. We were meant to be together and no one could ever change that.
I relax instantly, bending to press my lips to her forehead before I turn my attention back to Tag. “So, where are we starting?” I ask.
Tag claps his hands and then rubs them together. It’s easy to see that he’s enjoying this. “How about a tour first and then I’ll show you to your cabin before we talk business. Sound good?”
“Sounds good,” I say.
Katie thinks I’m here to look into buying a cabin, which I am. Sort of. It just so happens the cabin is part of this vineyard.
I pat my pocket as we follow Tag around the house and onto a well-worn path that leads through the trees. A small cabin is nestled at the end of it, resting in the dappled shade of a big oak. The sun is already turning red in the windows of the two dormers and I imagine that the view of it setting over the vineyard is spectacular.
Tag’s steady monologue about the vineyard and the cabin stops when he opens the door and gestures for Katie to precede him. He winks at me as I pass and then closes the door behind us, making a quiet, unobtrusive exit.
In the quiet, I hear Katie’s gasp. She’s standing in front of the small dining table with her hands over her mouth. A white cloth covers the surface. On it, two white candles are lit in silver holders and red rose petals are scattered all around it. A silver wine bucket rests on a stand to the right, holding a chilled bottle of Chiara sparkling wine. From there, a trail of red rose petals disappears into the next room.
Katie glances back at me, her eyes shimmering with the suspicion of what’s to come. I say nothing. I do nothing. I simply follow her as she follows the trail of petals.
They lead to a small bedroom. The king bed is draped in white and covered in rose petals. In the center is a pile of long-stemmed roses with a card propped in front of them. In calligraphy, it reads Will you marry me?