Page 62 of Bar Down

“Good thing we have other plans then,” he says smugly.

“So, you weren’t lying to him about that just to get out of it?”

“Nope. I made a reservation at Chateau Chantal.”

I hope Eli doesn’t see the grimace on my face. A winery is probably not that much better than a boat party for me. But I can’t say that. He made a reservation. He wants to take me on adate. I smirk and look over at him. “Are you trying to woo me, Eli?”

“Is it working?”

I laugh. “Maybe. But you know you don’t have to do anything special or fancy. We can just hang out at the cabin, go kayaking.”

“Are you really turning down a six-course meal right now? In favor of kayaking?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“I wouldn’t say I’m turning it down,” I mumble, “just saying I’ll do anything with you.”

His hand gives mine another squeeze. “I know,ilo. I just think this date is long overdue.”

My chest swells and I can’t help but smile at him. How did I get so lucky to fall in love with the best, most thoughtful person in the world?

Eli

The sky isa beautiful mosaic of orange and blues by the time we park at the winery. The Old Mission peninsula drive is one of my favorites and I’m grateful the weather is nice enough for us to enjoy the outdoor vineyard tour. We get paired up with a few other people for the tour and they all seem to be couples. The two women whispering and stealing kisses from each other in front of us look so happy. They have matching tattoos on their left ring fingers and I think this might be their honeymoon.

Watching them fills me up with hope. Maybe that can be me one day. Maybe I can be comfortable enough to truly be myself. I look over at Ash who is thoroughly engrossed in what the guide is telling us about the history of the place and the types of grapes they use for their wines. I smile and move closer behind him bringing my mouth to his ear to whisper, “Are you having fun,söpöliini?”

When he turns his head just a little to look at me, our eyes hold and I want nothing more than to tell him how much he makes mefeel. My heart is pounding and he smirks before moving along with the group. I blindly follow him and think,I’ll follow you anywhere.

I stop behind him again and wait for a response. He turns to give me a glance over his shoulder again and whispers back, “That’s a new one. What does that word mean?”

I bite my lip and look around me. There’s no one behind us since we’re at the back of the group and the rest of the people are too focused on the actual tour, so I take a deep breath and summon some courage.

My hand finds Ash’s like it knew exactly how close it was. I let our fingers thread together but don’t take my eyes off of him. He looks down, surprise showing on his face but I can’t stop smiling. Ash smiles back and pulls me along so we don’t fall too far behind. “Are you distracting me with physical touch so you don’t have to tell me what that word means?”

I chuckle and decide he’s earned this one. “It meanscutie pie.” His smile is wicked as his thumb caresses the back of my hand in acknowledgment. It’s a set of different words that won’t stop swirling around in my head though.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

But I can’t say them yet. I need to show him first that this means more to me now. That I’m not going anywhere.

When the tour is over, we’re seated at a small table on the patio. The view of the bay from the top of the hill is breathtaking. Both Ash and I are admiring it when the server shows up to ask us our drink preferences or if we just want to stick with what’s paired with each meal on the menu.

“I’m fine with the menu choices.”

“I, um, I’d like to hear your non-alcoholic selections, please.” Ash takes a sip of water and his eyes dart my way as he listensto the list of options. He lands on ordering some sparkling grape juice and more water.

“Not a fan of wine anymore?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“It’s not that,” he says, fidgeting with his hands on the table. The sun is starting to go down and he looks so damn good in his white short sleeve button-up. The contrast between his dark red hair and the green vineyard behind him makes me smile softly. He looks so pretty it’s hard not to reach out and kiss him.

“Everything okay?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.

“Yeah,” he blows out a breath. “I’ve been sober since I got back from Finland. Since starting to go to therapy.”

Oh. Oh, of course.

I’m such an idiot, why the hell did I bring him to a winery?

“I’m sorry. We can go somewhere else if you’d like,” I say, getting ready to stand up.

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