by Mia Sheridan
When I saw Walter, I instructed him to put the bottle back in the lower wine cellar where it'd originally been kept.
"Yes, sir. I'll do it this week."
"Thank you."
"And may I offer my most heartfelt congratulations on your . . . marriage, sir?" The word "marriage" was offered with the coldest disdain I'd ever heard from Walter. And that was saying something.
"No, Walter, you may not."
Walter's lip quirked. "Very well, sir. I do wish you the best, however. My mother used to say that marriage is much like wine. They both mature slowly and grow deeper and more complex with time."
I turned to Walter. "Walter, I think you know as well as I do that my marriage will not be allowed to mature. It's temporary—for business purposes only."
"As you say, sir."
I halted, frowning at him.
"I do say."
"Very well, sir."
I scowled at him and started for the stairs before I got overly annoyed with the man. He had a way of making me feel like I was twelve again. And he had a way of making me question myself with his insolent, "Yes, sir, no sirs." I'd fire him one of these days. Without severance.
I ate dinner alone, wondering when Kira would return. I hadn't asked her anything about her trip. I didn't want to set a precedent that we would ask about each other's whereabouts or actions. I certainly didn't want her thinking she could do that with me, and I had no desire to do it with her. Still . . . if she'd changed her mind . . . I'd rather know now than have to wait for her to call me at some point this week after not showing up.
Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and used the cell number I'd only used the one time before when I'd visited her at her hotel room. I debated what to say in my text. I didn't want to leave her with the impression I was checking in with her.
Me: Should I have Charlotte keep a plate warmed for you?
A few minutes later, my phone beeped.
Kira: That's thoughtful, but no, thank you.
I scowled. Was she dense?
Me: I'll have Charlotte set a place at breakfast for you then.
Kira: No, that won't be necessary either. Thank you.
I growled at the phone, punching at the small letters on the keyboard.
Me: Goddamn it Kira, are you coming back or not?
Several minutes ticked by, a strange panic rising in my throat.
Kira: Yes, I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. Miss me?
I exhaled.
Me: No. Goodnight.
Little witch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kira
Hawthorn Vineyard was suffused with dappled, late afternoon sun when I drove through the gates a little after four o'clock. I'd spent the weekend with Kimberly, filling her in on everything that had taken place with Grayson Hawthorn since I'd last spoken to her. At first she refused to speak to me, and then she ranted and raved for fifteen minutes—breaking into frequent bouts of Spanish—while I sat before her on the couch with my arms crossed like a child being disciplined. She'd brought up at least twenty examples of Very Bad Ideas that had ended terribly. When she'd finally calmed down enough to discuss the matter with me, though, and when she realized I wasn't going to back down, she'd taken me in her arms and offered me her support. That was generally the way of things with Kimberly. I knew enough to wait her out. And she knew enough to know that once I'd committed to a Very Bad Idea, it was unlikely I'd change my mind. Still, I knew that ranting at me made her feel like she'd done her duty, so I took it in stride. At its core, it was filled with love. I had missed her so much while I was away. She had always been a balm to my soul, the one who kept me sane.
I'd also made a quick visit to the drop-in center where I'd spent so many hours. I assured them I had a large donation coming their way, one that would allow them to make it through the next six months until one of their larger grants kicked in.
I had wished I could stay a little longer visiting with the people there I'd grown to love and hadn't seen in so long, but I assured them (and myself) I'd be back very soon.
Being away from The Dragon for a couple days had enabled me to put things in perspective. I was driving back with a renewed sense of surety. This plan was going to work. Everything had fallen into place and I tended to think that when that happened, you were on the right path. In a matter of days, we'd be married, have my gram's money, and I'd be on my way to being self-sufficient. I could decide what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I wouldn't be under anyone's thumb. I would finally be free.
Surprisingly, I'd missed my little cottage. After opening the windows and putting my suitcase down at the end of the bed, I fell onto it and smiled up at the stained, peeling ceiling, twirling a piece of my hair, and humming loudly the song that had been on the radio in my car a few minutes ago. Outside the window, I heard the distant sound of a vehicle, most likely a tractor, and the shrill chatter of the birds that filled the trees. I'd find a little place similar to this somewhere in Napa Valley when I moved out. Somewhere simple. Somewhere I could be myself. Somewhere I might find happiness. Sighing, I sat up, slipped out of my clothes, and unpacked the new, fluffy towels I'd purchased in San Francisco. After rooting around in my luggage for my toiletries, I turned toward the shower. A man was standing in the doorway. I startled so abruptly that my toiletries went flying out of my hands and I screamed, a piercing, horror-stricken sound.
"Whoa, whoa," Grayson said, moving toward me, his hands up in an "I surrender" pose, meant to calm me, I supposed. His eyes were wide with surprise, and I couldn't help notice that they swept down my body.
"Oh my GOD!" I shrieked, realizing I was as naked as a jaybird. I looked around wildly for something to hide my nakedness, grabbing the shirt at the top of my open suitcase, and attempting to cover as much of myself as possible. At practically the same moment, Grayson whirled around and went stalking out the door.
I sagged against the end of the bed, my face hot, my legs shaking. "Don't you knock?" I yelled.
"You don't have anything I haven't seen before," I heard said loudly outside my open window as he walked away from my cottage.
I might have growled.
Thoroughly humiliated, I got in the shower, still grumbling angrily about rude, disrespectful stalkers. Nothing he hadn't seen before. Ugh! Scaly beast!
After scrubbing myself just a bit too harshly—if my stinging skin were any indication—I pulled on clothes, put my hair up in a wet bun, and went marching up to the main house.
Charlotte greeted me kindly when I met her in the kitchen. "Is Grayson around?" I asked, trying to keep the brittleness out of my voice.
"He—"
"I'm right here," came his voice from behind me.
I whirled around, shooting daggers at him with my eyes. "May I speak with you privately?" I said with fake sweetness.
He narrowed his eyes, and didn't move, apparently ignoring my request, or just not caring if Charlotte overheard us. What did it matter? She'd heard us fight before. I crossed my arms. "You can't just flounce into someone's personal habitation without knocking!" I said, my words tumbling out in exasperated anger.
"I did knock," he said, his tone bored, causing me to seethe even more. "And I've never flounced in my life." He turned toward Charlotte. "Charlotte, have you ever seen me flounce?"
"No, it's true," she said, wrinkling her brow. "You're not a man inclined to flounce."
I sputtered in frustration. "Flounce, prance, intrude!"
"Prance?" Grayson asked incredulously. "I've definitely never pranced. Ever. Charlotte?"
Charlotte shook her head. "No, no prancing." She put one finger up, turning her attention to me. "I did see him skip once. But he was still just a wee lad . . ."
I threw my arms up in the air in irritation, trying my best to ignore Grayson's mocking—and Charlotte's support of his mocking—and stick to the subject at hand. "You didn't knock! Or if you did, I didn't grant you permission to enter. I wouldn't have, seeing as I was naked!" W
as that a faint pink color tingeing his cheekbones?
Charlotte coughed. "Oh my," I heard her breathe.
"Yes, well, it all happened very fast. I barely saw anything. I've already wiped the vision from my mind. Cross my heart." He said it as if it'd been a particularly distasteful vision.
"If you have a heart, which is debatable." I gritted my teeth together.
His eyes narrowed. "It was an accident, Kira. I apologize. I have no interest in seeing you naked, I promise. It won't happen again." He rubbed a finger beneath his eye as if smoothing away a twitch, his tone bored once again.
I stood up straight, raising my chin. Why was I bothered by his attitude at having seen me naked? What did I want, for Grayson to have stood with his tongue lolling out of his mouth at my mouthwatering sexiness? I knew I was far from mouthwateringly sexy. Cooper had taught me that lesson. I crossed my arms across my chest, hugging myself, feeling the fire burn out of my anger. I took a deep breath. "Well, fine, what did you need anyway?"
Grayson paused a moment, studying me. "I saw your car pull in. I was just coming to tell you that our prenuptial agreement will be ready on Wednesday. I moved our appointment to get married to Thursday." He paused. "As long as that's okay with you."
"Oh, um, yes. That's fine." My heart started beating faster. "Okay." I felt ill.
He squinted at me slightly, but didn't say anything.
"Well then, it's a plan," I mumbled. "I'm going to drive into town for dinner tonight. I'll see you tomorrow." He kept looking at me suspiciously, not saying a word. I turned and walked quickly out of the house, practically running back to my cottage once I closed the front door behind me.
**********
Grayson and I avoided each other for the next two days. Or at least I thought it was both of us. I knew I was steering clear of him, and I was pretty sure he was doing the same. I saw him a few times in passing, but other than that, I spent the time mostly alone. I took long walks around Napa, including the Hawthorn property, read, helped Charlotte with a few meals—meals Grayson didn't show up for. But I loved chatting with Charlotte. She was so very easy to get along with and had the same kind, open spirit that my gram had had. Even though I barely knew her, it was as if she filled the empty void created when Gram passed away—a motherly figure.
My father's number had appeared on my phone a couple times, but I didn't answer. Finally, though, I sent him a text telling him I was taking some time for myself and I'd call him soon. I didn't receive a reply.
At eleven on Wednesday, Grayson and I met outside the main house, then drove into town to the appointment with the lawyer he'd hired. We'd waived having separate lawyers to save both time and money. Neither of us spoke on the way there. Ever since the naked incident, there'd been a strange tension between us. I couldn't figure out if it was anger or awkwardness—perhaps a little bit of both? For my part, I definitely felt angry and awkward. Why he should feel angry, I had no idea, but he seemed to. Perhaps I just didn't know him well enough to read him. And, I reminded myself, I never would.
We parked and when we realized we'd arrived a little early, I asked if he'd mind if I went inside a small wine shop on the same street. I wanted to buy a little something for Charlotte who had so kindly gone out of her way to include me in Grayson's home—far beyond her role as a housekeeper merely doing her job. I wanted to let her know I appreciated it, especially under the circumstances.
Once inside, Grayson started looking over the wine selections at the front, and I headed toward the back of the store where wine openers and other kitchen items were kept. As I perused some pretty cheese trays in one of the aisles, I overheard a woman say in a loud whisper, "Did you see Grayson Hawthorn at the front of the store? God, I used to have the biggest crush on him."
I stiffened slightly as another woman giggled. "Who didn't? Go talk to him. I mean, you couldn't take him home to Mama now, but for a one-night fling, hot damn, I'd pay to experience that."
"Maybe I will. He's so hot." The other woman giggled and when I heard them walking toward me, my pulse skyrocketed, and I hightailed it in the other direction, grabbing Grayson's arm as I walked quickly toward the door.
"Whoa," he said, keeping pace with me.
"They didn't have what I was looking for," I explained, not even understanding exactly why I felt so flustered.
"What were you looking for?"
"Uh, a cheese tray, or a cake stand or something, I don't know," I hedged.
"They had all that back there."
"Look," I said, taking a deep breath and slowing to a normal paced walk. "I heard some women discussing you, and I felt like I was eavesdropping." I paused. "It's just . . . just that it was weird, and uncomfortable."
Grayson looked at me and when I turned my head, he raised one brow. "Discussing me?"
I waved my hand. "I'm sure you're aware that women find you . . . appealing for some unknown reason." I shrugged.
"Appealing?"
"Hot, panty-melting," I elaborated.
Grayson stopped and I did as well, turning to face him. The look on his face was filled with amusement. "This topic interests me. I'd like to stop and discuss it further."
I snorted, turning and walking again. He caught up, turning around so that he was walking backward in front of me, his expression disgustingly smug. "Wait, were you uncomfortable because . . . you find me . . . appealing, little witch?"
You don't have anything I haven't seen before.
"No," I said, possibly a bit more sharply than intended. "Not in the least. Here we are." I moved around him and walked through the door of the lawyer's office, Grayson's annoying chuckle following me inside.
Scaly winged creature.
The paperwork was straightforward and easy enough to understand. I ignored Grayson entirely while we signed it, although I still felt vaguely annoyed by his teasing outside. We both perused the paperwork carefully, though, and signed our names, taking a copy with us. And it was done. The only thing left to do was to get married. Married. To a dragon. A completely unappealing, annoying dragon. For money. I groaned internally. This was, by far, the craziest scheme I'd ever concocted. Cons: Crazy, ridiculous, probably shameful . . . Definitely shameful. Disrespectful to the sanctity of marriage. Disrespectful to my grandmother.
Those were a lot of cons. But . . . but it was going to work. I'd be free of my father. Focus, Kira. Focus on that. It was an incredibly weighty pro.
I'd made a list about The Dragon the night before, after he'd come into the kitchen to eat dinner, had seen me sitting at the table, and had promptly informed Charlotte he'd be eating in town. I had been avoiding him, too, so why that should have stung, I wasn't sure. The list had been made out of hurt pride, but it had helped.
"Our appointment is for two thirty tomorrow afternoon. Appointments, that is. We have one to get the license and one directly afterward to tie the knot."
I nodded vigorously, as if this was all just fine and dandy. Married! Tomorrow. Two thirty. Tying the knot! That made it sound so casual. No big deal. Just tying the knot—if you tie it loosely enough, a knot can be untied just as easily. I had the sudden desire to laugh crazily, perhaps until I cried. Grayson's mood seemed different too—more subdued.
"Are you going to tell your father before or after?" he asked.
"After. Once we've cashed the trust check." Nervousness assaulted me at the mere thought of confronting my father.
I saw Grayson nod from my peripheral vision, but didn't look over at him. He seemed to be studying me. "If you . . . want to back out, I—"
I shook my head. We'd come too far. "No. I don't." I looked over at him. "Do you?"
"No."
He drove us straight back to the house, and I followed him inside, intending on getting something to eat. In the dimness of the foyer, I removed my sunglasses and stuffed them in my overfilled purse, pushing them toward the bottom where they were less likely to fall out.
"I'll meet you here at two o'clock tomorrow then," Gr
ayson said, obviously intending on getting to work for the day, doing whatever it was he did down at the stone building.
"Okay," I agreed, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Oh, here. You dropped this." Grayson bent and picked up a piece of paper and began handing it to me. I creased my brow.
"I don't think that's—" And then I realized what it was by the color of the paper. It was the list I'd made about Grayson. The one I'd also scrawled "Kira Hawthorn" on several times in the margins, testing out my new signature. It must have fallen out of my purse. I felt heat rising in my face, and I grabbed for it. Grayson, eyeing me suspiciously, pulled the paper back. "Don't you dare," I breathed.
He looked down at the paper in his hand and back at me, obviously more interested now that I was making such a big deal over it. Stupid, Kira! It had just happened so quickly, and I hadn't had time to mask my reaction.
"What do we have here?" Grayson asked.
"It's personal," I said. "Give it back."
"Personal? We're about to be married, pet," he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. "We shouldn't have any secrets between us."
"Very funny. Let me have it."
He unfolded half of it as I lunged. He sideswiped me gracefully, grinning as I let out a squeak and almost fell on the ground. He turned and walked briskly to the large living room to the right of the foyer. "I think I'll pull up a reading chair and see what this is all about."
"Give it back!" I yelled, sounding like a petulant child. He unfolded it the rest of the way as I ran behind him.
"The Dragon, AKA Grayson Hawthorn: Pros and Cons," he read aloud. He looked back over his shoulder at me, raising one dark eyebrow, and then stepped behind the large, leather sectional and turned to face me. I tripped over the matching ottoman, almost falling again.
"Don't," I warned, trying to put all my much-deserved wrath into that one word.
He tilted his head, obviously reading my scrawled signature. "I'd really prefer it if you kept your maiden name," he said. Ouch.