Page 64 of Not Home Alone

“Beautiful and considerate. The perfect date.”

He holds my big puffy coat up for me so I can slip my arms into the sleeves. “Thanks. Sorry I don’t have another coat with me here.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not that fancy a party… Hang on, I almost forgot.” He reaches inside his jacket pocket and says, “Something’s missing…” He pulls out a black velvet box. “Maybe something in this box.”

My mouth goes dry.

“I don’t want you to get too excited,” he says, with a crooked smile. “It’s only on loan.”

He opens the box. Inside is a gold-colored chain necklace with big shiny plastic red and green letters that say “HO HO HO.” It’s kind of hideous. He probably ordered it from Walmart or possibly found it in a dumpster. I gasp and obligingly reach out to touch it so he can snap the box shut on my fingers. Howling with laughter, I say, “I can’t believe you’ve actually seen Pretty Woman!”

“I once lost a bet with Ava and had to sit through it with her. I was nine. It’s the most time we’ve ever spent in a room together without fighting.”

“Awww. Help me put it on,” I say.

“It’s a joke, you don’t have to wear it.”

“Oh, I’m wearing it.”

“You really don’t have to,” he insists.

“Oh, Grant. I do. I’m wearing it.”

“Please don’t.”

I do. I am wearing the necklace. He should have known I would.

As he drives to The Moody Estate Vineyard and Winery, he tells me, “You don’t have to pretend the wine tastes good, by the way. We know it doesn’t.”

“Oh. Is it not good?” I ask, almost buying my own ignorance.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t heard.”

“I thought people were just being mean.”

“Not in this case. The soil and weather around here are not optimal for wine grapes. If I were in charge, I’d invest money into better fermentation equipment, better bottling equipment, and French oak barrels. Bring in better varietals. More cold hardy.”

Oh my god. Do I have a winemaker kink? Is that a thing? Why am I getting so turned on by the way he talks about grapes? Maybe if we keep doing this Just Sex thing we shouldn’t talk to each other about anything besides sex when we’re alone together. That way I won’t confuse my physical reaction to him as anything more than a physical attraction. Because that’s the only kind of attraction that makes sense between us.

“I’d bring in a consultant and a real vintner,” Grant says.

Dammit. That’s hot. “Tell me more about your cock!” I blurt out.

He smirks. “Why don’t you tell me about it, Tucker.”

Sighing, I say, “Never mind. Keep telling me about the vineyard. It’s fine.”

He laughs quietly and continues, “Long story short, the vineyard and winery are really just a prestige business for the company. We make a profit by booking events at the winery, and the vineyard is what it is. So far, Ava has somehow managed to keep it from tanking.”

I wait for him to give any sort of hint that he’s the one keeping the business afloat, but he isn’t offering anything. “And why is it that she’s managed to run things so smoothly?” I ask, prodding.

He shrugs. “It’s not that complicated.” And that’s all he has to say about it.

“Will Ava and Todd’s mothers be there tonight?”

“No, Ava’s mother lives with her husband in Florida, and Todd’s mother lives with her girlfriend on an island near Seattle. This is really more of a business event than a family one. All Moody events are more business than family, even when they’re supposed to be family events.” He says it so matter-of-factly.

I scour beneath the surface for sorrow, but I can’t find any. It makes me sad for him. If I were his real girlfriend or even a real friend, I’d try to get him to open up more about that. But my job tonight is to be a line of defense against Quinn Whitmore and make him seem more relatable to the wait staff and whatever non-Moody guests they invited, I guess. So, I focus my attention on the scenic views of the valley as Grant drives the winding road into the hills.