From inside her car, Ani grabbed her tote bag and her $47 (thanks, overdraft fee) drink.
She also gathered her courage.
Ani’s discount pumps clicked on the pavement as she strode up to the winery.
Then, as she came closer to the villa, the thick doors at the entrance opened and out stepped the owner himself, the one she’d been warned about.
Raffi Garabedian.
Ani had seen him only in dim lighting before, with purples and blues flashing about at evening Armenian dances, and he was already unmistakably handsome there. But here? In the cool, filtered light from the Napa clouds, Raffi standing there in a white Oxford button-down, slacks, and polished black shoes, Ani had the thought, the actual thought,I’ve never seen anyone this gorgeous in my entire life.
He was tall, yes, but it was the way he held himself like an aristocrat that caught Ani’s eye. Broad shoulders and long, longlegs. The sharpness of his jawline stole her breath, as did his heavily lidded dark eyes. His hair, so thick and gelled to one side in a sexy coif. She wanted to run her hands through it.
Get a goddamn hold over yourself,akhchig, she inwardly muttered,and remember what Nareh said.
The way Raffi regarded her, though, didn’t seem like he was eating her up with his eyes, slicing into a thick, juicy steak. And why would he, when she was just…fine-looking? Not a woman anyone would immediately read as hot.
And yet Raffi stared at her with what Ani considered to be interest, with curiosity, and she felt the tiniest surge of hope that maybe Nareh was wrong and he didn’t suck, and her mother was right and she should open her heart—
That thought was interrupted by her heels crunching into gravelly rock at the threshold of the winery. Ani wobbled, trying to right herself. In one motion, Raffi bounded over to help, but Ani felt herself bobbing out of control as she kept attempting to find solid ground but was thwarted by the small rocks that had declared war on her patent pumps and seemed intent on knocking her down. Raffi reached to catch her right as she was about to face-plant but instead caught her arm, just as the contents of her extra-expensive, extra-large matcha latte smashed against his white shirt.
He did not immediately let go of her arm, even as he stared down at the damage.
Ani put her now-empty hand over her mouth because his Oxford was entirely soaked in green. It was so bad, but her brain still registered the curve of his pecs and the way the pressure on her arm where he was gripping her felt weirdly safe and good.No, no it doesn’t, she tried to tell herself,remembering Nareh’s warning words. He probably reached out not to help but because it was an opportunity to touch a woman. Gross. Still, the look on his face read “concern,” not “sleazy delight.”
Ani hopped out of her shoes in order to stand properly, and when it was clear she was able to balance, Raffi let go of her arm. She wondered if his gripping fingers had left a mark on her skin.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “These rocks, they—I mean, for anyone in heels, this is a total liability. Who put these here?”
By the look on Raffi’s face, it was clear to Ani that it was him. He had put them there.
“This was YSL, you know,” was his response, gesturing to the shirt, his voice as irritatingly deep and handsome as the rest of him. He appeared less in shock, more in disappointment.
Ani went from being apologetic to apoplectic at his snobby response.
“Such liberal use of the past tense. I could get that stain out in two minutes.”
She was about to add that she was sure he could buy another one when her eyes were drawn to the clack of footsteps from above. A large older gentleman with thick eyebrows stood on the balcony of the winery, frowning down directly at Raffi. She barely made out the man’s words in his low, growling voice. “Tun mart ches tarnar.”
“You’ll never become a man.”
Ouch. That had to be Raffi’s father, the mythologized mobster. Ani quickly averted her eyes. And speaking of ouch, she made her way barefoot across the craggy rocks, back onto the smooth concrete, mere steps from the massive winery doors.She slipped her shoes back on, trying not to be aware of how intimate a gesture this was to do in front of someone she’d just met.
She stared at those blasted pebbles. “So were you going for, what, a moat around the property?”
Raffi drew in a breath sharply. “I thought it’d give the place a little something extra.”
Ani gestured around her. “Believe me, this is already plenty extra. You should remove that unless you want a lawsuit on your hands.” Then she caught his eyes, which appeared worried. “Not from me. From, you know, guests. Prime drunk patron stumbling block, right here.”
“I thought wedding planners anticipated everything. Couldn’t you tell your heels wouldn’t make it?”
Ani was stunned. First, Raffi knew she was the wedding planner, not the bride. Had he…looked her up? Second, he was being combative, and this was not behavior she expected from supposed sexy, devil-may-care Raffi. Rude. And third (the one that made her blush), no, she hadn’t anticipated it because she was too busy being distracted by his hotness. As annoying as he was, she couldn’t deny his Adonis-like appearance.
Ani decided she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Shehadruined his very expensive shirt after all.
She stuck out her hand. “It’s Ani, by the way, though I guess you already knew that.”
She gave him a look like “Yes, I know you googled me.” Okay, she couldn’t help the snark.
