Page 43 of The Sweetness of Life

Out of the corner of my eye, he moves, slips behind Zach, and steals the ball. All hell breaks loose, and the four of them start running, leaving James with me.

“So . . . you and Zach, huh?” He glances down at me questioningly, eyebrows raised.

My eyes find Zach across the yard. I can hear him laughing at something one of the other guys said, but when he turns so I can see his face, his expression is blank. Historically, he’s been very vocal about his opinion of me, but this time he’s been pretty quiet.

“Ah, no. I’m here working on a project with Zach, food pairings to go with his wines.”

“Sounds interesting.” I can feel James studying me.

“It has been.” My eyes travel away from Zach, across the acres of the winery, and then back to James. “I’m actually on my way to drop off the food I cooked this morning for Michelle. She offers it up to the tasters who come in and then gives me feedback.”

He looks past me to the back of the golf cart and groans.

“I don’t suppose you’re cooking dinner tonight, are you? Please say yes, please say yes.”

A laugh bursts out of me, and Zach turns to look at us before he begins to make his way back over. I hadn’t considered cooking a meal and having people over at the cottage, but the idea of it does sound nice. “I can if that’s what you want.”

“Seriously, my mouth is already watering at the thought. A home-cooked meal—it’s been so long, I can’t say thanks enough in advance.” He rubs his belly as if he’s starving and grins at me.

“A home-cooked meal it is then.” I smile at James and then turn a glare to Zach, who stopped just shy of where James and I are standing. “I can’t wait to call Lexi and tell her what I’m doing tonight, and I happen to know there’s some decent wine lying around this place, too.”

Zach rolls his eyes.

That’s just like him.

I know I shouldn’t take Zach’s reaction this morning personally, because I truly don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, but I can’t help it. This one-eighty he’s done has not only affected my psyche, it’s left me confused. How do you act like you’re into someone, kiss them like it’s the first and last kiss you’ll ever have, and then twelve hours later pretend they don’t exist? It’s hurtful and again reminds me why I never let guys stick around long enough to get under my skin.

Whatever.

I need to stop thinking about him, think more about the food pairings, and maybe spend the evening seeing if I can get to know James more. He’s friendly, gorgeous, the brother of one of my best friends, and he’ll be heading back to his job soon enough. Also, he hasn’t made me feel bad about myself.

“What are you thinking about?” Michelle asks me as she looks down at the poor chives I’ve chopped to death.

“Nothing much. Recipes.” I smile at her and lie. “I called Lexi earlier to tell her I met James, and she screamed through the phone.” She knew he was coming and wanted to surprise me. Just thinking of the phone call takes some of the weight I feel surrounding Zach off me.

“I think it’s crazy y’all hadn’t met before.” She glances out the French doors where the guys are standing, and I follow, my eyes landing on James. He laughs, and his eyes skip inside and find me.

Both of us pause, neither one breaking the stare as we both quite possibly seek something different from the other.

“He’s staring at you,” Michelle whispers.

“I know.” The familiarity surrounding James’s appearance makes me feel like we’ve been friends for years. It’s comforting and much needed. Actually, what I need is for this assignment to be over. I’m ready to go home.

“Not him. Zach.”

“Oh.” Heat floods my cheeks, and it takes everything in me to continue ignoring him. I have most of the afternoon, which wasn’t hard considering he ignored me, too.

“You know, I’ve never seen him like this,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Like what?” I turn to look at her. “And you said that on the day I arrived, too.”

“I did?” Her brows furrow as she tries to replay our conversations from a week ago.

“Yes, although I don’t understand why. Every time I see him, he acts the same way.”

“That’s just it—you’re the only girl I’ve ever seen him act this way around . . .” The expression on her face shifts to one of understanding, but I don’t understand anything.

“And what way is that? Like an asshole?” I say this more to myself, but she hears me and cringes. I understand he’s her friend, but really, he isn’t mine.