“Plus, your stakes are higher,” I remark.
“What makes you say so?” Troy challenges, lifting his drink up and taking a swallow.
I take a small sip of my own, organizing my thoughts. “You have people whose livelihoods you’re directly responsible for. Yes, there’s the competitive side to producing the next great vintage, but in so much as I know you, that’s secondary to just being…well, a good person.”
His penetrating stare holds wonder and heat. He leans forward until the stubble of his five o’clock shadow brushes against my cheek. Chills from the light touch of his cheek against mine cause my nipples to harden behind my shirt. “Be careful with your compliments,uvetta mia.”
His words hang between us. The silence between us is charged. Then he murmurs, “Recently, the vineyard gave me something else. Something I didn’t think would ever just appear.”
Breathlessly, I pull back so our lips are hardly a few millimeters apart. “What’s that?”
His eyes bore into mine. “Hope. I went outside on a regular harvest day and it was given to me.” His hand reaches up and tucks a curl behind my ear.
“Hope,” I echo, even as my mind whirls to the image he paints about my arrival. I feel I need to explain some of my confusion. “How come I—we—never felt this way before?”
“You mean when you and Bryce were together?” His matter-of-factness settles some of the anxiety in my stomach.
I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from his. He’s so handsome, more so here at home in an environment he’s clearlycomfortable in. Looking at him stirs something in me I swore I would guard myself against. Yet, there’s no artifice in Troy. Still, “It’s only been a few days and we’ve gone from being friends to…”
“More.” He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand.
“Yes.”
His eyes hold mine before he admits, “You weren’t supposed to see it.”
“This? Us?” I point back and forth between us.
He gently takes hold of my hand and stills it, finger still extended in his. “No, just this. Me.”
It takes me a moment to realize he’s staying my hand for a reason. I inhale sharply. “You? Wait. Really? Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“Because I’d rather have been in your life as a friend, watching you bloom as a bride, Maya. Even if it meant your being with someone else. What I couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—stand for is your being with someone who blatantly disrespected you.”
He drags his fingers along my cheek and, for several heartbeats, I swear he’s going to kiss me. Then he stuns me when he murmurs, “Because I value who you are as my friend, as a woman, I’m going to tell you to go get ready for dinner before I make a move you’re not ready for.”
“Troy…” My voice is barely more than a breath. “You make it hard to remember why I don’t want you to.”
He brushes his lips against my cheek, oh so close to my lips. “I’ll remind you of that sometime soon.”
Right now, I wish soon was now.
21
ROUGHING THE KICKER: WHEN A PLAYER RUNS INTO A KICKER IN A WAY THAT COULD INJURE THEM.
Ialmost choke on the coffee I just ingested. “What would I do if you weren’t here?” I panic at the concept of Maya’s question. “Why? Are you leaving?”
Please say no.
She rolls her eyes. “Not hardly. I just don’t want to keep you from the things you’re supposed to be doing by entertaining me.”
“Oh.” Sweet relief floods through my veins. I admit, “I’d probably have the game on while catching up on bookkeeping.”
“Game?” Her brow furrows in confusion.
I almost hate to remind her, but, “It’s Sunday.”
“Oh! That game. You can watch the NFL from here?”
