Page 37 of Bordeaux Bombshell (Sunshine Cellars #3)

Nate

I kept looking for Sydney after our moms stole her, but she didn’t come back to the table. Since the night was winding down anyway, I excused myself to the bride and groom.

To save ourselves the long drive in the morning, we’re staying at a hotel near the venue. I was tempted to ask Sydney to come stay with me, but since it seemed like a very obvious Bad Idea, I refrained.

Not that Philip was any help in that department.

“Ach, come on, Nate. This is your secret weapon, isn’t it?” He was insistent as we sat at the bar with Kel a few nights ago, planning Operation WooCat. Kel insists we call it that, although I refuse to say it out loud. “Get her to stay with you. Only one bed. You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Kel put his foot down. “Just because I don’t object to Nate making my sister happy, does not mean I want to think about anything to do with them and beds.”

“That’s rich, coming from the pair of you.” The whiskey made me talkative. “Do you know how many times I have had to listen to both of you and your women?”

At least they had the grace to turn pink and stop talking about anything to do with sex after that.

But of course, now I can’t get the idea of Sydney being in my bed all night—a first—out of my head.

So when I emerge from the restaurant and she’s standing out front, it takes only a second for the Very Bad Idea to come out of my mouth. “Come with me.”

With a gasp, Sydney whirls to face me. “Jesus fucking Christ, you have to stop doing that.” Her hand presses to her heaving chest, clutching her phone. “Stop fucking sneaking up on me,” she adds when I don’t say anything.

Holding up my hands, I close the distance between us. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You were going home, right?”

Her apartment isn’t far from here, and knowing how she feels about her home, I assume she’s staying there and not at the hotel like me and my parents.

“I was, yes. Are you offering to buy me a drink?” Her eyes are clear, the lines of her mouth soft and not pinched. Once again, I can’t fight the flicker of hope that flares inside my chest.

“I’m offering you anything you want.”

Her eyes widen at my declaration, but I’ve missed her too much over the last six weeks to waste any more time. We’ve wasted years not being honest with ourselves and each other. It ends tonight.

“I mean it, Sydney. If you want a drink, I’ll buy you a drink. If you want to talk, we’ll talk. If you want to go home and never talk to me again, I’ll hate it, but I’ll put you in an Uber and wave you off.”

She takes a step toward me. “And what if I want to go home and watch a movie?”

“That’s also—”

She closes the distance between us, laying a finger across my lips to cut me off. “Would you come with me?”

“Baby, I would do anything you asked.”

We don’t say much as I lead her to my car and hold the door for her while she climbs in. She’s quiet, clicking at her phone—I assume to cancel her Uber—as I pull away from the restaurant and drive toward her house.

We’re a few minutes in when she turns in her seat, tucking one leg under her so she’s facing me. “Why are you being so nice?”

Two spots of heat burrow into my cheeks from the intensity of her stare. I don’t look, grateful for the excuse of driving. “Because I want to be.”

She makes a noise, flipping her hair out of her face. “Because you want to be nice to me specifically, or because you want to be nice in front of everyone else.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“Yes.”

I readjust my grip on the steering wheel, my palms suddenly sweaty. “I wanted to know if we could put the shit aside and exist in the same space. I was prepared to take the high road if you came back guns blazing, but you didn’t.”

A left turn gives me a chance to pause, to slowly pull air in through my nose to calm my racing heart. God, I wish I wasn’t driving right now. But also, I’m glad that I am. It feels safer, being able to talk without having to make eye contact.

“I, uh. I wanted the same thing.” Sydney’s voice is barely a whisper, but I hear every word.

“Did you figure out how to stop fighting? How to stop fighting me?”

A hand touches my knee, and I nearly accelerate into a curb.

“Sorry.” She pulls her hand away, and immediately, I miss it. “Turns out, the way to stop fighting…was to stop fighting. Weird, huh?”

I risk a glance as we wait at the light. Her hair cascades over her shoulder in large curls, catching the glow from the streetlamp. The gold dress she’s wearing dips low, but not too low, between her breasts, the thin straps barely holding it on her shoulders.

I won’t lie and say I haven’t imagined slipping those straps off all night long. But I’m doing my best to stay away from Very Bad Ideas tonight.

With a smile, I turn back to follow traffic once more. “Yeah. Crazy how that works.” But there’s no heat, no sarcasm behind my words.

Sydney turns back in her seat, watching the cars as we get closer to her place. “So, just existing, huh? We haven’t done that in a very long time.”

“I don’t know if I really know how, to be honest. Whenever we’re in the same room, you’re all I can think about.” I hadn’t intended to confess that much, but she isn’t yelling at me to stop the car, so I’m taking it as a win. The fact I’m turning into her complex is probably helping.

“Is that why you told me to leave?”

What is she talking about? I’m sure I told her to leave a thousand times when we were kids. Probably even in the last two years. But the weight of her words means something else. Something I’m missing.

As soon as I finish parking, I turn to face her. “I told you to leave?”

With a sigh, she leans back against the seat, eyes closed. “Of course you wouldn’t remember.”

My instinct is to defend myself, but then it sinks in that she’s not making an accusation.

“Tell me. What don’t I remember?”

Those hazel eyes pierce me despite the surrounding darkness. “The first thing you said to me when you got back. You walked into Greg’s hospital room and told me to get out.”

The way her words sink in my belly, dragging me down to the bottom of my soul, changes everything.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Syd. I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember saying it—I was so angry when I walked into that room.

I’d been on the worst flight ever from France.

Then I walked into Kel’s place and found him and Maggie in bed together.

” I shudder at the memory—one I’ve tried very hard to forget.

“All I could see was my dad in a hospital bed and my life exploding, but you were there. And the second I saw you, all I wanted to do was fall on my knees and beg you to help me. The fact that, even after all that time, just the sight of you was enough to undo me was infuriating.”

Her small hand reaches out, landing on my cheek before she leans forward to press a kiss to my forehead. “You’re forgiven. Let’s go inside.”

I follow her up the stairs and into her apartment. This time, the familiar furniture seems to greet me as I toe off my shoes and the suit jacket I dusted off for tonight. Maybe because Sydney smiles when she turns back to take my hand.

Instead of leading me to the familiar leather couch, she turns down the hall. An open door reveals the sacred space she’s never shared with anyone.

Soft pink blankets are piled haphazardly on the bed, a wooden bedframe supporting the weight of all her pillows.

There’s a chair in the corner, piled high with clothes, a couple pairs of shoes on the floor around it.

Floral prints decorate the walls—they’re not at odds with the decor in the rest of her place, but they’re softer here.

Sweeter. Like the hardness she presents to the outside world hasn’t tainted it.

Or like she’s kept it carefully guarded all this time.

From me and any other idiot who doesn’t appreciate how amazing she is. And that her tough exterior hides a soft center.

“Ignore the mess,” she says, flipping on the light to reveal her pink cheeks. “I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

“Wasn’t looking at anything but you.”

She leads me deeper into her bedroom, turning on the lamp beside her bed before indicating that I should flip off the overhead light again.

While I’m doing that, she disappears into the attached bathroom, reappearing moments later in a baggy T-shirt and tiny shorts. For a moment, I’m disappointed I didn’t get to watch that dress come off, but I knew it was a long shot.

“Syd, I wasn’t…I mean. I don’t expect anything. I hope you know that.”

She smiles, then reaches out for my tie, tugging it loose. “I know. I don’t either. I just want to…exist with you. That’s it. Everything else is too…” She trails off, looking uncertain as she pulls the fabric free of my neck.

“Too much for now?” I offer. The buttons of my dress shirt are next, but I don’t take it all the way off, instead leaving it on over my undershirt as a signal of my intentions. I do, however, remove my belt and socks, piling them with my tie by the door.

“Yeah. For tonight. I don’t want to make any promises or do anything that one of us might think means more than it does. I just want to be with you. The real you.”

She’s already in bed, under the covers, pulling a laptop across her legs and patting the space beside her.

Sliding under the covers into the empty space, I pull her against my chest. “With the real you.”

“Yeah.”

“I would like nothing more.”