Page 79 of The Heiress's First Date

If you’d asked me yesterday if he had a nice ass, I would have said it was average. Not everyone takes squat day seriously.

But those jeans are doing something for him that squats never could.

30

GABE

Call me crazy, but this wine cellar is one of the reasons I fell for this apartment. The space is straight out of my dreams. Modern and luxe with a tip of the hat to old-world elegance.

When I was young and still living under my parents’ roof, I came across a magazine that featured a big fancy house and inside was this amazing wine cellar full of bottles from around the world. The article talked about owners’ love of visiting new places and how wine was the ultimate souvenir of a life well-traveled.

Everything about the glossy photo gripped me by the throat. The rich woods and system of cubbies, the fancy light fixtures, the brick floor, and the cozy atmosphere.

As the oddball in a family from the middle of nowhere, getting out of farm country was extra appealing. Not just because everything was flat, sometimes hot, sometimes freezing, but always landlocked.

Getting away, traveling, and living the life no one else in my town would ever dream of was the ultimate goal. Collecting wines from around the world had seemed like stamps in a passport at the time.

A passport I didn’t even own yet and wouldn’t for another dozen years.

So when I saw this sleek space with the honed tile and beautiful wood shelves, I fell hard.

Wine, on the other hand, was an acquired taste.

I tend to prefer reds to whites. No surprise that Kingston is the same. But I bet he’s got a more refined palate, thanks to his upbringing.

I blow out a breath because it feels like he has so many of the things I’ve always envisioned for myself. But, by some cosmic roll of the dice, he was born to it and seemingly wants little to do with the life he was afforded.

Ten years ago, that would have made me angry and sour. Now, I’ve achieved everything I ever dreamed of as that eighteen-year-old from Nebraska.

I hear a soft footfall on the tile behind me.

“Holy shit.”

The hushed curse is a dead giveaway that King has joined me. But I would have known he was here without a word from him.

It’s the heat of his gaze on my back and the feeling of being watched that sends tingles through the pit of my stomach. The way his attention is so heavy over my body, almost like a weighted blanket.

Then it’s gone.

My heartbeat drums heavily through my veins, and I gently put the bottle of French Merlot back on the shelf.

I clear my throat because it feels dry and rough. “Cab or merlot?”

“Hmm... either.”

His voice is soft now, intimate in the small space, and it wraps around me like cashmere. There’s that hint of upper-crust accent and the almost casual surfer dude vibe that makes for an interesting combination.

“See anything you want?” I push to my feet and turn around.

He makes a contemplative humming sound as he steps forward. “Should we have champagne? You said something about a deal.”

His gaze flicks from the racks to me and holds. The tension between us snaps tight, and I try to remember what we’re talking about. A deal?

Oh, right.

My text earlier.

The reason I was up all night and wanted nothing more than to drop into bed. But I sensed King’s frustration from the three clipped words on my screen.

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