Page 12 of My Grape Crush
Her place is a little hard to read, like her.
And Dani interprets my silent investigation bang on. “None of this stuff is mine,” she says. “It came with the place. I moved here temporarily in June after Evelyn hired me. Vancouver is home.”
“So this is a new job for you?” I ask.
“New, in terms of the wine industry,” she clarifies. “But I’ve worked in advertising for the past eight years. Copywriter and junior creative director.”
Her chin rises slightly as if daring me to question her credentials. Ha. As if. My toolbox of tricks boils down to being pretty and looking good on camera. Hardly the ammunition to throw down a challenge.
“You seem very competent,” I say.
A surprised smile tugs her mouth higher. “Thank you.”
I groan inwardly.Competent?Why don’t I hand her a report card and call it a day?
Dani graciously moves on, gesturing at the strip kitchen. “I’ll meet you at the sink. Otherwise known as the emergency room.”
She disappears into what I guess is the bedroom, and my gaze drifts across the not-so-great room to a large picture window and the stunning vista framed within. Colin told me on the drive up that Osoyoos Lake is Canada’s warmest lake. Seeing it in person, it seems to stretch on forever, glittering in the sunset like a blanket of blue-green diamonds.
The dazzling display of nature fills me with an irresistible urge to swim.
After a day without the ocean, I get antsy.
Or maybe it's the sweat prickling on my skin that feels like ants are crawling all over me. The view certainly raises the bar of this shabby hut, but how can Dani survive in this heat?
She returns seconds later carrying a small first aid kit and busies herself at the kitchen counter, opening the kit and poking through the supplies. Her skin glows with a fine mist of sweat.
“Why is your place so hot?”
Dani glances up, her face flushing a deeper shade of crimson. “My air conditioner broke. Hence…”
She trails off with a bashful smile, and I jump in with some solidarity. “I walk around my house naked too.”
She levels a look at me. “But have you ever flopped nude onto a stranger?”
I pretend to think about that. “Not lately.”
“By that, you mean never.”
“No worries,” I assure her. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
Her brow rises in a question of—can a man be trusted with secrets of that magnitude?In the case of me, the answer is yes. My flaws are many and plentiful, but when it comes to holding on to classified information, I'm a human vault. And the more pressing question is, why are all these snappy one-liners rolling off my tongue like butter? Any woman I’ve ever had a speck of interest in leaves me tongue-tied and flustered, but I feel oddly protected in Dani’s presence. Like I can let my guard down for once and not have it bite me in the ass.
She unravels a small roll of gauze, uses a pair of mini scissors to snip off two tidy squares, and hands both to me. “Wad one of these into each nostril.”
While I stuff cotton up my nose, she inspects me from all sides, her face picture-perfect with concern. Without her glasses on, I can see flecks of blue trapped in the bottomless gray of her irises. I’m careful not to stare.I could get lost in those eyes and never find my way home.
“Why did you come over?”she asks, her quizzical gaze landing squarely on mine.
“Oh. Uhm…” She’s standing so close, I can feel the heat rising from her skin, a ribbon of her sugary-sweet perfume caressing me. It short-circuits my brain. “I, uh, hoped you might have some coffee cream. There was none in my fridge.”
Her brow furrows, and dammit! Can I replay that? Spin the story to be about her and not my royal neediness?
“Sorry about that.” She spins to the sink, rips off two paper towels, wets them under the faucet, and motions me closer. “May I tidy you up as an apology?”
Her voice is warm, sincere, and so kind it makes me feel undeserving of her selflessness. “Yes, but please, you don’t have to apologize. You’ve done enough. And I can survive a day without cream.”
She wipes blood from my face, touching me like I’m fragile. “Which is why you’re here.”
