“Holy shit,” I breathed. “That long already? Aren’t you only like…”
“Thirty-four.”
I whistled low. “Can’t believe Dad hired someone so young for such an important role.”
Liam snorted. “To be fair, I was under Vic’s wing for a while. But the last year and a half or so, basically since Amara took over, it’s really just been me running the show.”
“And you’re doing an amazing job,” I assured him. “You’re kind of a jack of all trades around the winery.”
Color rose high on Liam’s cheeks, and I bit back a grin. “Just doing my job.”
“Right. Taking full responsibility for the grape yield and quality of each new vintage, helping Amara with the canned wine-based cocktail line, helping Delia and Owen craft the drink menu for the distillery, helping Brie and Ezra get the community garden up and running…” I theatrically sucked in a breath, blowing it out with awhew, even going so far as to pretend towipe sweat off my forehead. “Yeah, sounds like you’re ’just doing your job.’”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but before I could stop myself, I was reaching across the narrow center console and settled my palm on his arm. A jolt shot up mine at the contact, his skin throwing off massive amounts of heat.
What an interesting man Liam was proving to be, and more interesting still was my reaction to him. I found myself thrilled by the realization, enticed by the idea of continuing to peel back the layers, to learn who he was beneath the beard and the brawn and the obvious brains. To learn who he could be to me.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I said at last, voice hoarse.
The air in the van had thickened, energized in a way I’d never experienced in Liam’s presence before, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
“Your dad gave me a shot when probably no one else in the world would have…except maybe my old boss. But I definitely wasn’t going backthere.”
His jaw was clenched so tightly, muscle fluttering so wildly, that I knew pressing the issue was a bad idea. So I let it drop.
And not a moment too soon because when I returned my attention out the windshield, I found we were rounding a final corner—and then the Mackinac Bridge stretched out before us.
“Oh fuck,” I breathed, reaching for the oh shit handle and squeezing my eyes shut. “Just tell me when it’s over.”
“Absolutely not,” Liam said, reaching out and pinching my thigh. My eyes and mouth popped open in protest, leveling him with a death glare. “It’s really not that bad. The view is incredible.”
I hazarded a glance around me. “It’s literally just water.”
“It’s the Straits of Mackinac,” he corrected, then pointed to our right. “Out there is Lake Huron.” Gesturing to the left, he added, “And that’s Lake Michigan. This is the spot where the two bodies of water collide.”
“Thanks for the little geography lesson,” I quipped. “But this thing still freaks me out.”
Liam held his hand out, palm up. “Take my hand.”
“What? No! You need both hands to drive.”
“It’s a clear day with absolutely no wind to speak of, Wildflower.” He gripped the wheel with his left hand so the leather creaked. “I’ve got it under control. Now take my hand.”
My fingers shook as I reached for him, but Liam didn’t give me a chance to second guess myself before his warmth was enveloping me. He easily threaded our fingers together, as though this was something we did all the time and not thefirsttime. With a light but reassuring squeeze, he asked, “You good?”
No, I thought.I fear I’m worse off with us skin to skin than I was simply crossing this death trap of a bridge.
But despite my nerve endings going haywire over this single, chaste point of contact, when I managed to tear my gaze away from Liam—this man who was becoming a bigger enigma by the minute—I realized we’d passed the halfway point, the highest part of the bridge, and were now making our way down to solid ground once again.
Liam swore quietly and suddenly. Without removing his hand from mine, he began glancing furtively around the front seat, grumbling, “Where the fuck is my wallet?”
I joined in on the search, finding it wedged between the center console and my seat. Extracting my hand from his grip, I reached for it and tried to hand it over, but he waved me off.
“Can you just get out four dollars?”
“For what?”
