Page 34 of Gone With the Wine

She doesn’t seem surprised by my impulsive invitation. She regards me thoughtfully.

“Can I tempt you with wine? I have a 2018 cab.”

“A spectacular year,” she murmurs, lips curving once again. “Tempting.”

Oh, fuck yeah, I’m tempted.

“Okay,” she says. “Thanks. I’ll just call Rosa and let her know I won’t be home for dinner.” She pulls her phone out of a pocket in those indecent shorts. Speaking of temptation…

“They’re probably busy doing the bone dance,” she says as she makes the call.

I choke on a surprised laugh.

A moment later, she rolls her eyes at me as she leaves a voice mail. She ends the call and says, “See?” She waves a hand. “Okay, take me to the 2018 cab.”

Chapter7

Bianca

Should I be going to a surly stranger’s home with him?

“I’ve been here before,” I tell Jansen as we approach his ranch-style house. “It was years ago, though, when Rosa and Jake were dating.”

I’m trusting my gut on this one. For one thing, he’s friends with Millie and Ana and the guys. For another…he knew I was nervous on the Ferris wheel and tried to distract me. And I’m pretty sure he wasn’t parked near me when we left the fair; he just made sure I got to my car safely.

He might be a little brusque on the outside, and he definitely looks tough, but my instincts are telling me he’s got a soft interior. Soft-ish.

“I bet it hasn’t changed since then.” He jogs up the front steps and opens the front door. “It probably hasn’t changed since the seventies.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Probably. Maybe the eighties. I’m not really up on home décor. All I know is it’s ugly.”

We’re greeted by unexpected barking, then whining. As I step inside the house, a brown and white dog charges at Jansen with excited yips and spins.

Jansen crouches down to pet the dog. “Hey buddy, yeah, I’m home. You don’t need to make such a fuss, I wasn’t gone that long.”

I smile. “Who’s this?”

“I call him Jack. I found him in the woods about a week ago, all skinny and matted and filthy. I took him to the vet and we’ve been trying to find his owner, but no luck.”

“Ah. Poor guy.” I crouch down, too, and Jack approaches me with bright eyes and sniffs. I hold out my hand palm down for him to check out. “He looks pretty handsome now, though.” Although he’s missing half an ear. Poor baby.

“Yeah, we cleaned him up. I don’t know why I kept him here. I should have taken him to a shelter. I don’t even like dogs.”

My eyebrows shoot up. I look around at a bunch of dog toys strewn across the living room and a cozy dog bed near the fireplace. “Hmm. Well. That was nice of you.”

Oh yeah. Definitely a soft interior.

“You like dogs,” he states.

“Yeah. We had a dog when I was a kid. Rocky went with Nonna to live with Uncle Geno, and he died a couple of years after that. I was in college, but I still cried.” My bottom lip pushes out.

“What kind of dog was Rocky?” Jansen asks gruffly.

“He was a golden retriever.”

“Ah. I know what that is.”

---