Page 7 of Love on the Vine
“Look, about this summer,” she said, rubbing her hands together and sliding them between her knees. “It’s a silly idea. Please just forget about it.”
She was giving me an out, but for some reason I didn’t want to take it. “You’re serious about food, right?”
“Yes, I love it. More than anything.”
The vulnerability in her voice stirred something in me, a need to protect that hopefulness inside her. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt hopeful. But I did remember what it meant to have people encourage me on the path that I eventually ended up taking.
“Then it’ll be an opportunity to learn about wine,” I said. “I’ll be running around a lot, but I can introduce you to the right people.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Plus, that way you won’t have to worry about Ben calling you three times a day to check on you.”
She nodded and pulled her coat tighter around her. “He’s a little overprotective. It’s his way of making up for not being around for the first few years of my life.”
I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. And though I was curious, I wasn’t going to pry. “He forgets that I’m an adult and have been living away from home for the past five years.”
She said it as if she were trying to convince me that she wasn’t a kid. I didn’t need much convincing, though, or at least my body didn’t. There was nothing childlike in the graceful curves of her body or the slight huskiness of her laugh.
“But are you sure? I don’t want to get in your way. It won’t be weird?” She cocked her head at me, her eyes never leaving mine. She had a quiet determination that impressed me.
“Why would it be weird?” I ignored the images now flooding my brain of what I had been thinking about doing to her earlier. “I probably won’t be around that much. You can use my place as a base if you want to travel more around the south of France.”
A large open smile spread across her face, the most genuine I’d seen in a long time. “Okay, then.”
I managed a small smile myself despite the alarm bells going off in my head.
It would be fine. Really.
After all, I was a grown man. In total control of my feelings.
Chapter 3
OLIVIA
Provence, late June
The rusted clock above the train station chimed the hour. 6:30 p.m. and still no sign of Jake. Had he forgotten about me? Or worse, had he reconsidered?
Downing the last drops of the lukewarm Coke I’d bought from the outdoor vending machine, I tried to distract myself from the ball of anxiety spinning in the pit of my stomach.
My train had arrived two hours ago, stopping barely long enough for me to fling my bags out and hop onto the hot pavement before rolling off again toward Toulon. The handful of people who’d gotten off with me had been met by their families, leaving me alone on the platform to wait for a man I’d met only once and who’d grudgingly agreed to let me stay with him this summer.
Since it was Sunday the tiny train station was closed, so I found a seat on the sun-drenched stone wall next to the miniscule parking lot and waited. And waited.
I couldn’t even call Jake because I’d left my phone behind in Paris.
As the cicadas buzzed in the trees behind me, I fanned myself with the copy of FrenchVogueI’d picked up that morning in Paris. It had been ungodly early when I’d said goodbye to mybest friend Callie and my cousin Levi at theGare de Lyon. We’d spent the past two weeks tooling around Ireland and Scotland before Callie started a new restaurant gig in Paris and Levi headed to Aviano Air Base in Italy where he was stationed for the next two years.
“Watch out for yourself, Liv,” Levi had said as he ruffled my hair. We’d always been close growing up, and he was more like a big brother than a cousin. Now that he was a pilot in the Air Force, we rarely got to spend time together. That’s why this trip abroad had been so important to me. “And remember, you can always call if you need me.”
I’d shaken my head at his protectiveness. “Okay, Dad.”
“Call me when you get in.” Callie had squeezed me tight, and I didn’t want to let go. Before she left for France, we’d been roommates, and I’d missed our late-night gossip sessions and weekend adventures. But if things worked out as I planned, we’d be living together again in the fall: I’d applied and been accepted to one of the top culinary schools in France. Now, I just needed to get the nerve up to tell my dad that I planned on abandoning law school for cooking in Paris.
“And keep me posted on any developments with Hot Boss.” Callie winked. She knew better than anyone that since I’d met Jake six months ago, I couldn’t get him out of my head. Now, all my romance novels and late-night fantasies featured leading men with wavy brown hair and scruff-covered dimples.
I worried that I’d built him up too much in my head. What if the reality of him was a huge disappointment? I mean, we’d only spoken briefly at Christmas, and then I’d emailed him once to see if his offer still stood, and he’d taken forever to answer. When he did, it was the shortest message I’d ever received: “Yes, send me the details. I’ll pick you up.”
