Jesus…was that a hickey on his neck?
“Late night?” Grayson deadpanned.
Maverick’s face split into a shit-eating grin. “You know it.”
Ella and Maverick seemed determined to make up for lost time in the bedroom, so it wasn’t unusual for his brother to show up to work late and disheveled, wearing the look of a man who was very, VERY satisfied.
Grayson wouldn’t know what that felt like. He was currently in one hell of a slump. It had been nearly three years since he’d had sex with a woman. Mainly because that last one had turned out to be a bit of psychopath who’d left him basically traumatized, so he’d since avoided the dating apps. Actually, he’d eschewed the whole damn dating scene.
Since then, it had just been him and his hand. So, Maverick’s smug grins and constant cheerful humming were starting to grate on Grayson’s nerves, despite his happiness for the man.
“You’re late again,” he complained, aware he was being contrary. He and Maverick didn’t keep set hours. This wasn’t a bank. Regardless, before Ella moved back, Maverick would join him for the occasional sunrise. That hadn’t happened in months, yet another change in the standard routine.
“You gotta be kidding me. It’s not even seven o’clock yet,” Maverick said, checking the time on his phone. “I figured you’d be pleased I managed to roll in before nine.”
Grayson scowled since his brother had a point. Lately, Maverick had slowly started to shift his work time. Mainly because Ella was not a morning person, and he was determined to match his working hours to hers. Like the world would cease to spin if they weren’t together every single second they weren’t working.
Grayson took a sip of his coffee. “You used to be more consistent.”
“This isn’t a military operation, Gray. I’m still doing my job. I’m just starting a little later in the morning. It’s amazing how great sex can inspire a man to create delicious wine.”
Grayson snorted. “I wouldn’t know.”
Maverick slapped a hand to his shoulder. “Maybe if you left the house and actually ventured out into society, you could find a woman worth starting work late for.”
Grayson shook his head. “Even if I do get married, my daily routine will remain the same.”
Maverick laughed, letting him know what he thought of that pronouncement. “Bullshit,” he fake coughed. Then, his brother’s face sobered slightly. “What do you mean ‘if’?”
Grayson frowned. “I meant when,” he corrected, though he couldn’t help but wonder if that word had been misspoken, or if he’d finally reached a point in his life where he was starting to give up hope.
While Maverick had sworn off marriage for years, Grayson had lived his entire life certain that he wanted to settle down and have a family of his own one day. However, after a few bad relationship experiences, followed by so many years without one, he was starting to wonder if happily ever after was even in the cards for him.
Gracemont, his hometown, was the quintessential American small town, which meant he knew pretty much every single available woman who lived there. Very few of them had caught his eye, and none had captured his heart.
He ventured to the window, glancing out over the vineyard. The rain had been little more than a brief burst, the storm blowing through quickly. He spotted Boone, the vineyard manager, in the distance, talking to several of the extra hands they’d hired as harvest season came upon them.
“Still pissed about the festival?” Maverick asked, leaning against the wall, facing him.
Grayson’s jaw tightened. “I’m not pissed.”
Maverick chuckled. “Tell that to your face.”
“It’s September, and I’m needed here. It was stupid for Nora to sign us up to work a wine festival during the heart of the harvest.”
“I work that same wine festival every year, Gray, and you know it. It’s great for business. Besides, it’s just a weekend.”
“One whole weekend.” Grayson was a homebody, so the idea of having to leave the farm at the ass-crack of dawn on a Saturday and drive four hours away to work a two-day wine festival sounded like his idea of hell on earth.
Ordinarily, Maverick handled the festivals as well as the special events they put on at their own wine-tasting room. Because Maverick had enough personality for twenty people and he loved crowds, meeting new people, and talking about the wine they created.
None of those boxes were checked as far as Grayson’s personality was concerned. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he hated people, but he certainly preferred to deal with them from a distance. A great big distance.
“You’ll be fine,” Maverick said, attempting to lighten his mood. After all, it was his fault he had to work the damn festival. His brother had mistakenly double-booked the weekend, forgetting about the festival when he and Ella scheduled a bunch of wedding stuff, like the cake tasting and meeting with the florist.
“Not sure why Ella needs you with her. Like you have a fucking clue when it comes to flowers.”
“Ella wants my opinion,” Maverick replied. “And I want to stay engaged. So I’m going and pretending I have a preference when it comes to roses and lilies and whatever other flowers she shows me.”
