Her smile is wider this time. “Totally fine.”
Jonah gives another practiced smile before leading us into the building, carefully guiding us around the main entrance where several couples and groups still wait for an available table. They lead us to a private room, a table designed for two centered under a small chandelier and two formal, small loveseats facing each other in front of the large French doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the vineyard itself.
The woman I spoke to on Sunday wasn’t joking about being able to adjust the room so it felt intended for a small dinner rather than the large group tastings that typically happen here.
“Oh wow,” Carys whispers. “This is so pretty, too.”
And my heart fucking jumps.
She traces the petals of a sunflower tucked in a vase beside the door, the buffet table holding several wine glasses and two bottles of red wine with boutique watercolor labels. A third bottle sits beside a small centerpiece on the dining ramble.
I guide Carys to one of the seats, making sure she’s settled before taking the other across from her. The sunset spills into the room and reflects off the gold and diamond necklace nestled in the hollow of her throat. The desire to see that necklace tremble with her panting as I bring her to an orgasm rips through me. Lemongrass explodes around me. I should be embarrassed that I’m so obviously aroused, that I’ve been half-hard since we got into the car.
I’m not, though. Not even a little bit because a dark flush colors her cheeks and flows down her neck, right around that damn diamond.
Jonah isn’t bothered by the visceral reaction, quietly opening the bottle of wine and filling two glasses with a practiced motion before setting small menus in front of us both.
Once they’ve left to give us time to look over everything, I ask, “So you went to school in Colorado?”
Her eyes flash with surprise. “Did you look through my social media?” she asks.
It’s a playful question, though, her smile wide and her body open, not at all guarded. I shake my head.
“Ares talks about you sometimes. Mostly with Marilyn but with Timber, too. I’ve heard pieces here and there over the years.”
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip. I kick myself all over again. I really shouldn’t bring up Ares tonight even though he’s a linking person between us. She was so nervous when I asked her out, terrified of what might happen if her dad finds out. She takes a quick sip of the wine, and my gaze catches on the way her lips form around the glass, the way the column of her throat flexes with the delicate swallow. My scent pulses again.
“I’m trying to decide if I should be mortified of whatever he’s said and leave it be or if I should ask what else you might have heard,” she admits, setting the wine glass back on the table and tracing the base of it with one finger.
I rush to reassure her. “It’s always positive, I promise. Mostly it’s whatever academic accomplishment you had or what you did over the school breaks.” Her lips tip up just a bit. “He adores you.”
I carefully take a sip of the wine to help give her time to decide what to say next. She tilts her head, and she bites her bottom lip again. I want to reach across the table and trace the indentations. I fist my hand on my lap instead.
“That’s okay then, I guess,” she says. Then she gives me a full smile, though her eyes are shy. “Yeah, I went to school in Colorado. I majored in sports medicine, actually.”
Surprise flashes through me. “No way.”
She laughs, the sound warm and cozy, like a cabin’s wood stove in the middle of winter. My own smile is instinct, irresistible.
“Yeah, it surprises most people, including my advisors. But I grew up around sports—well, hockey. Obviously. I loved spending time at the rink with Dad and then Timber. Part of it was because he was a single dad and Marilyn helped watch me after school a lot. But I could have hung out in her office upstairs with the other press and marketing employees.” She shrugs. “I love the sport itself, though. I always thought I’d go into physical therapy. My plan had been to focus on injury rehabilitation.”
Jonah quietly steps back into the room, and Carys quickly drops her gaze to the menu. I pick out the first thing that sounds good and then watch Carys’s lips as she orders one of the pasta dishes. I don’t say anything until Jonah’s left again.
“I’m trying to figure out the jump from injury rehabilitation to florist,” I admit.
“Yeah, it’s about as big of a change as I probably could have managed, isn’t it?” She takes another sip of her wine. “The short explanation is that one of the women in my Omega-specific sorority bonded while in school. I helped build her bouquets for her celebration ceremony. When she posted the photos to her socials, someone asked who had done the flowers.”
She smiles and taps the wine glass a couple times.
“It kind of just built along the way. When I moved back here in June, I decided to put together an actual business scheme to see if it was something possible. I hadn’t applied to any graduate schools. The classes senior year were… a lot. It felt like the right time to try something different. Since there’s such a large music presence here, I decided to shift my branding to cater toward the more elite portion of society even though it’s harder to break into those circles. But I’d rather have one large order every week that pays all the bills than twenty small orders that might not.”
“Do you think you’ll ever apply to grad school?” I ask. I should offer something about myself. It’s a date, after all. But I can’t help but want to know everything about her.
“I’m not sure,” she says. “I won’t say it’ll never happen. The shop is doing well right now, but I know Dad’s been doing a lot of unpaid marketing. Business could fall off in another year when all the excitement wears off, so I might. But for now I really love having my own shop, my own business. I love that I’m helping create beautiful expressions of love and grief and friendship for people.”
Her entire being glows with happiness as she says it. All I can manage is to stare at her like she’s the sun. Maybe she is, my own personal sun, the anchor around which my entire life now orbits.
“Wow.” Even my voice is awed. “That’s way cooler than anything I’ve ever done.”
