He gives a shrug that’s impossible for me to interpret.
By the time we head toward the restaurant for our wine tasting, I’m thoroughly confused. Mentally and physically. I swear, being this close to Roman for this long has an intoxicating effect. I blame his outfit. His pants are tailored to perfection, and I have had to give myself a stern talking to every time my gaze snags on his perfect ass. His charcoal grey button-up is unbuttoned the perfect amount, giving a hint of his chest muscles and showing off the tiniest glimpse of the tattoo that’s there. I still can’t make out what it is, and it’s driving me nuts. His sleeves are rolled up to expose his forearms, and suddenly I get why the Victorian era was scandalized by ankles if my response to this little expanse of skin is anything to go on.
Something strange is building between us today. The way he looked at me during our vineyard tour has caused a delicious pressure to build between my legs all afternoon and early evening.
Between the warmth of his body and his spicy and woodsy cologne, I need the sobering effect of some fresh air. Unfortunately, when I mentally requested fresh air, it turns out I should’ve been more specific, because now I’m stuck at a tiny candlelit table with Roman on the hotel’s restaurant patio, and no amount of breeze is helping me cool down.
Roman taps at the table with his fingertips, perhaps a sign of impatience or hyperactivity, I’m not sure.
When our server comes by a few minutes later with liberally poured wine flights, I waste no time and take down the first glass.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but wine tastings aren’t typically races,” Roman says with raised eyebrows.
“I’m thirsty.”In more ways than one... I need to do something to bring down the temperature, and fast. I can’t be feeling like this going into sharing a bed together tonight.
“Well, in that case, here’s to our first weekend away,” he says.
Our glasses clink together, and I swallow mouthfuls of the Cabernet Sauvignon. Perhaps I should take a minute to savor all the notes, but I’m having a hard time keeping my thoughts straight.
Looking around, I notice that one girl at a table about twenty feet away has her phone out and pointing toward us. Pretending not to notice, I subtly gesture to Roman, and he catches on right away.
He quietly says, “Showtime,” and I know we need to be on our guard and in full fake couple mode.
“So, what do we do?”
“Talk, Clover, we talk.”
Right. I can handle that.
“Okay, um... what’s your favorite col–” I start.
“None of that small talk bullshit. If we’re going to talk, we’re going to talk about something real.” His eyes have a fire in them that unsettles and irks me.
“Do you always need to be so abrasive?”
“Personality trait I was born with, I’m afraid.” He opens and closes his hand around his thumb, like he’s itching to do something with his fingers.
I know I shouldn’t say it, but I’m also desperate to put space between us somehow, even verbally. “That and having a silver spoon in your mouth. You want real questions? Fine, tell me how that was then,” I challenge. The fire in those icy blue eyes falters for a moment before returning.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me what it’s like to have a horseshoe up your ass and get picked from obscurity for the role.”
“Get fucked.” I smile sweetly.
“Are you volunteering?”
I scoff before drinking some rosé in my flight, “You wish.”
His eyes darken, and my heart thunders, anticipating his answer before he says it. “And if I did?”
My core tightens in response. Clearly, it didn’t get the memo that I don’t like him.Traitor. “Well... that’s... not happening. So.” I finish lamely, mentally kicking myself for sounding so immature.
He raises his eyebrows with a dangerous smile. Shit, I just issued a challenge, and someone like Roman lives for them.
Reverting to the original subject, I continue. “For what it’s worth, it wasn’t luck that got me the role, and you know that. Arnold wouldn’t have cast me if I weren’t right for the role, so I’m going to need you to quit running your mouth.”
He opens said mouth with a devilish glint in his eyes.
“And no, before you start, I don’t want to hear what else your mouth can do.”
