“I can give in to a woman,” I said quietly.
The smile slid off her face, and her mouth opened slightly.
“Goodnight, Sylvia.” Quickly, before I could do something I’d regret, I hustled down the steps and started out on the path toward the winery again. I didn’t hear the Sawyers’ front door open or close, so I assumed she stood there for a bit, watching me walk through the snowy dark, but I didn’t turn around and look.
Fuck yes, I could give in to a woman.
What I couldn’t give in to was myself.
That night, I dreamt about her.
We were tasting wine in the cellar, but she was naked, and she let me pour the cold wine over her skin and lick it off. At four A.M., I woke up with a massive erection that refused to go away. I tossed and turned for another hour, then I gave up and slid my hand down inside my boxer briefs. Maybe it would get her out of my head.
As I stroked myself, I imagined my warm tongue running over her throat, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. I heard her sighs and moans echoing off the stone walls. I felt her fingers fisting in my hair, her legs wrapping around my head, her body going rigid with tension. I made her come just like that, the wine dripping off her body as she pulsed against my tongue, and I groaned as my own orgasm made my cock throb inside my fist.
But I shouldn’t have done it. I felt terrible about it. Because now when I looked at her, all I’d be able to think about was her naked body on the stone floor.
There was no way I was going to her family dinner tonight.
To make sure I wouldn’t even be tempted, I wore my grubbiest jeans and my ugliest flannel shirt with the most holes to work, the one my ex had always begged me to throw out. I didn’t shave, and I threw a cap on my head rather than comb my hair.
At the winery, I did grunt work and heavy lifting all day long, ensuring that I’d work up a sweat. I was by myself, since I’d given my assistant Mariela the week off, and the tasting room was closed for the week, so no one would care if I smelled bad.
Around six o’clock, I was outside stacking new bins on the crush pad when I heard someone call my name. Surprised that anyone would be out here at this hour in the frigid dark, I walked around to the front of the winery.
Sylvia stood near the tasting room door, shivering in the cold without a fucking coat on, arms wrapped around herself. “Hey!” she called, spotting me. “I was looking for you!”
I jogged toward her, unzipping my jacket. “What’s going on? Everything okay?”
“Yes, but my God, it’s freezing!” She hopped back and forth from one foot to another.
Quickly I took off my Carhartt and held it out for her to slip her arms in. “Put this on. Don’t argue.”
She shrugged it on, and we hurried inside the tasting room with her swimming in my giant coat. After shutting the door behind us, I switched on every single light—I did not trust myself alone in the dark with her.
“Sheesh!” Sylvia blew on her hands. “It’s even colder than last night! I can’t feel my face! What is it, like ten below?”
“It’s actually about twenty-five, but it’s still too cold to be running around without a coat.” I set my hat and gloves on a high-top table and ran a hand through my matted hair. “What were you doing out there?”
“Looking for you. We’re all at my parents’ for dinner and someone asked where you were. I volunteered to come get you.”
“Without a coat?”
“The house is roasting—I’ve been cooking all day and I was so hot. And don’t change the subject.” She fished a hand out of the sleeve of my jacket and scolded me with one finger. “You said you’d come to dinner.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I said I’d think about it.”
“And did you?”
“Yes. But I can’t come.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “I’m working.”
Sylvia rolled her eyes. “It’s Christmas, Henry! Take a break!”
“It’s not Christmas yet.”
“It is in our house. Starting today, the inn is officially closed to guests for a whole week, and that means Christmas vacation at Cloverleigh Farms starts right now.” She held up both hands, but they were lost in my sleeves. “I can appreciate that you want to wait for Jesus’s actual birthday to celebrate, but I feel certain he will not mind if you come have dinner with us tonight. In fact, he wants you to. He told me.”
I laughed. “Jesus told you he wants me to come have dinner with you?”
“Yes. He said you’ve been working too hard.”
“I feel like Jesus has more important things to worry about.”
She shook her head. “We can’t question, Jesus, Henry. Now let’s go. I bet you haven’t eaten yet, and I’ve had sweet and spicy party meatballs in the slow cooker all day.”
My mouth watered. “Meatballs, huh?”
She saw my weakness. “Yes. And that’s just an appetizer. There’s a ham in the oven, and honey-roasted butternut squash, crispy Brussels sprouts with bacon and pecans . . .”
Real food.
I groaned right along with my belly. “You’re killing me.”
“Good. Come and eat.”
“Look at me. I’m a mess, Sylvia.”
“Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, tonight is casual.”
I was trying to think up another excuse when she moved closer. For a second, I was scared to breathe. Because whether she smelled like cookies or party meatballs or perfume, I was going to want some.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “I know you don’t find big social gatherings much fun these days. I don’t either, and I will totally understand if you’d rather go home. But I had a really nice time talking with you last night, and—” She stopped.
“And what?”
She lifted her shoulders. “I guess that’s it. I had a really nice time talking with you last night.” Then she began shimmying out of my coat. “Look, don’t worry about dinner. It’s totally understandable that you’d rather be alone, and I didn’t mean to—”
“Sylvia.” I grabbed the sleeves of my Carhartt on her upper arms before she got it off, effectively trapping her. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. It’s not that.”
“So what is it?”
“I just . . .” But how was I supposed to finish the sentence? I just think you’re too beautiful? I just can’t stop thinking about kissing you? I just had this dream about you last night that made me come so hard, I don’t trust myself alone with you, and would you mind stepping over here beneath the riesling spigot so I can show you what I did?
She was completely still and looking at me like she was half hopeful, half scared.
For a few crazy seconds, I thought, Fuck it. Just kiss her.
Suddenly the door to the winery flew open. “Hey! You guys coming or what?” It was April, bundled up properly in a long puffy jacket. “Mom sent me to come find you.”
Letting go of Sylvia, I stepped back and tried to breathe normally.
“He’s giving me a hard time,” Sylvia said. But her voice shook a little.