Page 71 of Claim to Fame

“Thank you.” Hannah pulled Jo into a hug, squeezing her eyes shut as she embraced the younger woman.

“Alright, have fun, you two. I’m off to another thrilling shift at the Bay Breeze.” Jo grabbed her purse and strutted down the aisle like it was a catwalk in Milan. When she passed Ethan, she trailed her fingers across his chest. “See you later, foxy.”

“Good night, Jo,” he called after her, rolling his eyes.

Hannah made her way down the aisle towards him. Her strut was less exaggerated than Jo’s, perhaps a bit less confident, but her soft, knowing smile and the twinkle in her eyes were stunning and all her. He dragged his hand over his jaw as he watched her approach, his eyes dancing over the bounce of her cleavage in the low-cut sundress, the swing of her hips, the swish of the skirt around her legs, and then back to her smile. Fuck, her smile did something to him he couldn’t explain.

“Thank you for this,” she said when she was at last standing in front of him. She wound her arms around his neck and his hands landed on her hips, smoothing over the ruching at the dip of her waist. “I never would have thought of it, but it was exactly what I needed.”

“I’m glad.”

“You know what else I need?” she asked, stepping closer.

He skated his nose along the length of hers. “What’s that, city girl?”

Her lips were soft when she kissed him. He wanted her closer, to slide his hand beneath her skirt and feel if she was ready for him, to kiss her everywhere—

A loud cough behind them broke through his thoughts and they pulled apart, lazily, reluctantly, as Caleb made his way up the aisle, his hands tucked in his pants pockets and his eyes downcast. “Leave room for the Holy Spirit,” he muttered as he approached.

Hannah snorted a laugh and buried her head against Ethan’s chest, hiding her face in his shirt. He grinned and stroked a hand over her hair as he addressed Caleb. “Thanks for letting us use the space. We appreciate it.”

“Any time. You want to stay and join us for Bible study?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

“I think we’ll pass,” Ethan said. Before Caleb had come back to Aster Bay to take over at St. Anthony’s, Ethan hadn’t even set foot in a church since he was a kid, and any appearance he put in recently was more about moral support for his friend than any religious inclinations.

Caleb gave a knowing hum. “You better go while you still can then. If you’re around when my mom gets here—”

“Right. We’re going.” Ethan’s hand fell to Hannah’s lower back and he guided her towards the back of the church.

“Thanks again!” Hannah called over her shoulder, blushing.

Ethan drove them home, all the while forcing himself to keep both hands on the steering wheel so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her. If he touched her while he was driving, he was likely to lose control—of himself and the vehicle. Best to wait until he’d shown her his plan for the rest of the evening.

He hoped she’d like it. That it would help her see Aster Bay the way he saw it.

By the time he shut off his truck in his driveway, it was dark, the sky a dusky blue, like velvet, patterns traced into its pile by lingering wisps of clouds moving across the star-speckled sky. Ethan climbed out of the truck and rounded the vehicle to open Hannah’s door. He loved this time of year, when the air felt clean and crisp, a hint of the ocean’s salt hanging in the spring mist.

It was blessedly quiet at night on the vineyard, the occasional whoosh of a car going by on the road, an owl somewhere in the trees that separated his property from Cheryl and Ricky’s farm. In a few months, the cicadas would be out in full force, their din a constant white noise.

Of course, by then Hannah would be back in New York. The thought scratched beneath his skin.

He held out his hand to her. “Walk with me.”

She took his hand with a coy smile and let him lead her down the path along the side of his house towards the vineyard fields that abutted his property. Her heels sank in the soft earth as he led her through an opening in the trees and onto the vineyard proper, but she didn’t complain. Like she’d been walking these fields all her life. Like it was her fancy shoes that didn’t belong, not her.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

The first sprigs of green were beginning to burst on the vines they wandered between, but it was too dark to point out the first signs of a new season of grapes. He’d bring her back in daylight, in every season, show her the march of time measured in leaves and flowering buds and eventually heavy bunches of grapes his family had been turning into wine for decades. It might not be a Broadway stage, but it was a good life. He knew Aster Bay didn’t have the best Thai food or the bustle of the City, but it had entire fields of plants that his family had tended for generations, just waiting to bring forth another harvest. It had the Museum of Everything and the best damn caldo verde this side of the Atlantic.

And him. It had him.

They crested the small hill at the edge of the field and Hannah gasped as their destination came into view.

He’d spent the better part of the afternoon stringing fairy lights in the trees that overlooked the bay below. He’d hauled a low fire pit from the storage shed, setting it in the clearing along with two of his mother’s Adirondack chairs. The heavy canvas bag he’d left behind held blankets of varying weights, a Nuthatch Vineyards sweatshirt, wine glasses, a bottle of red Tessa swore would go well with s’mores.

“You did all this?” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, her eyes darting from the chairs to the twinkle lights to the cooler beside the fire pit.

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