Page 66 of Let It Breathe
He turned back to the TV and squeezed June’s knee. “We should make that chicken dish tonight. The one we served at the wedding?”
“Oooh, with the mushrooms and that little hint of?—”
“Rosemary, yes! You know, our ’24 Pinot Gris would be perfect with it. Do we have any?—”
“—artichoke hearts? Yes, I just grabbed some the other day.” June leaned forward and kissed him on the temple while Reese took a step back, then another.
“So, guys—I need to head out to the field to check the nitrate levels before I get ready for my date. Everything look okay with the communication pieces?”
“They look great, sweetie,” her mom said, closing the folder and setting it on the coffee table. “You’re doing such a nice job with everything. Oh, look—I love this part!”
Reese watched as the video cut to a scene of her parents slow dancing to “Unchained Melody.” She stared for a few beats, wondering if she’d ever stop feeling like she forgot to get in line when the universe handed out soulmates. She turned away, letting the notes of the love song fade behind her as she crept down the hallway and out the front door.
It had started to drizzle, and she thought about heading back to the winery barn for rain gear but decided against it. Not like she wasn’t used to working in soggy conditions.
Out in the fields, she lost track of time as she gathered soil samples and snipped small pieces of the vines. She breathed in the heady smell of damp earth and crushed grass, aware that her hair and clothes were getting drenched but not minding much.
By the time she returned to the winery barn with the samples, her clothes were soaked through. The pale-pink T-shirt beneath her flannel overshirt had turned transparent.
Dripping as she went, she moved into the tiny kitchen where she kept her test kit. The barn was silent, except for the distant tinny sound of NPR on the radio Eric must’ve forgotten to switch off when he left.
Reese was straddling a puddle of muddy rainwater bent low over her test tubes when she heard a voice behind her.
“You’re still here.”
She whirled to see Clay in the doorway. For the briefest instant, his gaze fell to where the wet T-shirt hugged her breasts. It returned quickly to her face.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“I just came back to finish some testing,” she said, blaming her shortness of breath on the startle instead of the magnificent, muscular sight of him. “I thought you were gone already.”
“I left some paperwork on the counter there. Can I sneak by you and grab it?”
Reese nodded and stepped to one side. Clay seemed to hesitate. Then he edged past, his bare forearm brushing the damp front of her T-shirt. Reese felt her nipples contract.
The papers fluttered to the floor.
“Oh, shit,” Reese said, kneeling down. “The ground’s all wet. I hope these aren’t your only copies.”
“It’s okay, really, you don’t have to?—”
“No, let me get them.”
He crouched down beside her, scrambling to grab the mud-speckled sheets of paper. Reese’s hand trembled as she grabbed one piece, then another. They both reached for a page at the same time, and Clay’s hand closed over hers.
A surge of heat pulsed up her arm and her heart slammed hard against her rib cage. Reese stared at his hand, transfixed by the sight of those long fingers engulfing hers. Then she looked at his face. He was watching her, pupils dilated in those root-beer-brown depths. He didn’t blink.
Clay looked down at her hand. “God, you’re freezing.”
“My hands are always cold.”
“I remember.”
He didn’t let go of her hand. Reese swallowed as her stomach clenched in a tight, fizzy ball.
They stayed frozen like that for what seemed like minutes, Clay’s huge palm warm against the ridges of her knuckles. The smell of rainwater and wine and damp earth hung heavy in the air between them, along with something else Reese couldn’t name. His breath ruffled the damp hair pasted to her cheek. Outside, the rain drummed the roof in a slow, heavy beat.
“You’re getting wet,” he murmured.
