Page 32 of The Deadbeat Next Door

“No,” she started, but stopped herself. “Well, kind of. Yes. Where’d you learn about wines?”

“In college. I’m a certified enologist.”

She grimaced like I’d mentioned something gross. “A what?”

“It just means I know how to make wine.”

I pulled a bottle from my wine fridge, poured a glass, and set it in front of her. It was one of my wines, but I didn’t see the need to brag. Plus, I wanted her honest opinion. She took a long sip and sighed, her eyes closing. “This is really good.” I turned and got what I’d need to make dinner from the pantry and the fridge.

“So, are you looking for work around here?” she asked. “The nearest winery is over an hour away.”

I put a pot of water onto boil and a cast iron skillet to heat and placed the raw chicken on a cutting board. I sliced as I spoke. “I know. Which is why I want to start my own winery here.”

“Where here?” she asked.

“You know a guy named Bartholomew Gregory?”

“His son, George Gregory, was in my class at school. Are you buying his property? It’s beautiful. It would be a great site for a winery.”

“It sure would.” I didn’t want to get into my problems until I’d helped her get a handle on hers.

I focused on making dinner, which didn’t take long, and she sat and drank her wine, seemingly lost in thought. She helped me set the table and then we sat down to eat. Normally, I would have made a salad to go with the dinner, but I thought she needed comfort food. “Okay,” I said, as soon as she’d gotten a few bites into her. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“The principal, my boss, is only a year older than me. She and I went to school together and I may have gone out with her boyfriend my junior year before they were officially broken up.”

“You were the other woman?” I asked, teasing her, but curious about her high school years.

“I had no idea they were still together.” She shook her head. “I guess my curse started back then.”

“Curse?” I didn’t buy into mumbo-jumbo like curses or karma or fate.

Carrie waved her hand in a dismissive gesture that almost knocked over her wine glass. “One of Dilly’s theories. The point is that the principal, Missy Melcher, hates me and has it out for me. She heard the rumors about Philistine’s and me going home with you and she’s put me on notice, a sort of probation.”

“I still don’t get why she cares what you do in your free time.”

“Teachers are supposed to set an example for the kids we teach. I’m supposed to be careful about how I purport myself in public and Missy’s been waiting for an excuse to take me down a peg. She’s within her rights and I…I just feel like such an idiot.”

“So, big deal,” I said. “She puts you on notice, or probation or whatever, and you behave yourself for a while and then life goes back to normal for you, right?”

“Sure. Except that the recent budget cuts mean the school needs to cut teachers. I’ve been there six years and am making pretty good money. This probation could be the excuse Missy is looking for to get rid of me.”

Since I knew there was only one high school in town, I understood how big a deal this was to her. “Is there any way to get off probation?” I asked. “Anything you can do?”

She put down her fork and looked a bit green. “I had one idea, but it’s absolutely insane and I totally understand if you won’t go for it.”

“Lay it on me.” I would honestly do just about anything to take that sad look out of her eyes and fix this for her.

She pulled in a deep breath. “I may have told Missy I wasn’t drunk, I was having a bad reaction to allergy medicine mixed with alcohol, and I wasn’t behaving badly, because you and I are dating. In fact, we’re quite serious.”

Warning bells rang so loud I had to fight the urge to cover my ears. “How serious?”

She looked down at her plate, blushing pink from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “Engaged.”

I swallowed hard. “Engaged?” I’d never been in a relationship that lasted longer than two weeks, much less engaged. The very word elicited a primal fear.

She looked up. “She didn’t believe me, because she would have heard it through the grapevine if we were. I’ve lived in this town all my life and my parents had lived in this town all their lives. People talk about everything I do, but I just love it here. It’s home and I was desperate, so I lied and I’m sorry, but if you could just pretend. . . If you could go see Missy with me tomorrow and tell her it’s for real…It would only have to last a couple of weeks, a month at the most.”

Something she’d said had struck close to home and given me an idea. “I’ll do it,” I said. “On one condition.”

She looked at me, her eyes wide and hopeful and I knew I’d do this for her even if she wouldn’t help me. “You aren’t going to believe this, but Bart Gregory won’t sell me his property unless I can prove I have ties to the town, in fact he mentioned you by name. If he believed I was engaged to you…”

“Yes,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Yes, I’ll help you, too. She launched herself at me, her legs straddling my waist, and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight. “Thank you so much.”

Her hair was in my face, her scent of flowers and soap all around me, and she felt so good and warm in my arms that I realized how easily I could get lost in her, could drown in her. I grabbed her hips and put her gently off my lap and on her feet. I couldn’t afford to get lost in her. “This will work better if we’re completely platonic in private and act all lovey dovey in public. We don’t want this to get messy.”

She pushed her hair behind her ears, the light in her eyes dimming just a bit. For a moment, I hated myself. My cock definitely hated me.

“Okay. Right. Good idea,” she said.

I didn’t ask for a take-back, I didn’t pull her back into my arms, no matter how badly I wanted to.

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