Page 16

Chapter Fifteen

T he showerhead water pressure didn’t disappoint me. Twice.

I pulled my hair into a loose, low bun and added a splash more make-up. Well, more than a splash, but nothing over the top, just more dark eyeliner. I was going to a celebratory dinner after all. I wasn’t trying to impress Andrew.

But I think I did.

When I arrived at the bar, Andrew—as always—was already there. He’d changed into a white button-up shirt, dark pants, and he’d brushed his hair. I personally preferred his earlier post-roll-in-the-hay style. The expression on his face told me everything I needed to know—he liked what he saw. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the moment our gaze connected. I loved the way it made me feel. Like I was his queen.

The hostess seated us outside on the patio at the candlelit table closest to the garden. A light breeze ruffled my hair, bringing out goosebumps on my shoulders. The sun hadn’t fully set, and its low rays created a warm hue behind the green hills. Twinkling tealight candles in crystal bowls encircled a miniature magenta floral centerpiece. This was an unexpected dinner setting. The surrounding tables had flowers but no candles. Was this Andrew’s touch?

A young, handsome server brought a wine binder and presented it to Andrew.

“She’s the expert.” Andrew handed me the heavy leather-bound folder.

“This is an excellent collection of wines.” I perused the list, flipping pages. “Red or white?”

“Surprise me.”

Andrew picked up his glass of water and sipped it, watching me with tense, dark eyes. I tried to act nonchalant, but underneath I was melting like a soy candle. His stare was like he was undressing me, and oh god, I wished he would. I bit my lip and continued looking over red wines, aware he was studying me. “You’re staring at me. How do I stop it?” I glanced at him over the edge of the binder.

“You look ethereal tonight.”

Good lord. Who used words like this? How would one reply to that?

“I know, right?” I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned, and other ladies’ bits too.

“Why are you single?”

“Oh, here we go.” I hid my face behind the list. “You’ve already asked me that.”

“And I don’t think you gave me a real answer.”

That question had a loaded and super complicated answer, which I wasn’t going to give. Not tonight. Perhaps, just like William, I haven’t found the right person. But I also wasn’t looking. Or maybe, I was a realist about true love. It didn’t exist. It didn’t work for our parents. It didn’t work for William. It didn’t work for Greg and me. The best analogy was people who got bitten hard by a dog when they were young. The accident had lodged a seed of fear that was to stay put for the rest of their life. They understood that not all dogs were mean; they saw others owning a dog or even playing with a stranger’s dog, yet they stayed cautious of the animal, not taking chances of getting bitten again.

Our server brought a generous basket of bread and a dish of butter and asked if we were ready for our wine order. I couldn’t decide between two bottles, so we ordered both.

The best way to avoid answering a question was to respond with the same question.

“So, are you seeing anybody?” I reached for a bread roll.

I bit into the warm and sweet piece of heaven and let out a happy sigh.

“Don’t think I’ll let you ignore my question.” The creases around his eyes deepened as he smiled.

With my mouth full, I gestured for him to continue.

“After Brie and I split, I didn’t want to get involved, and then I got too busy with work.”

“Is being a university professor busy work?” I finished the roll and went for another.

“Yes. No. But starting a relationship is hard when I leave for unexpected expeditions that can last weeks. The only time I stayed at home for over a year was when my parents died.” The sadness crossed his face, and he looked away. “Charlotte needed me, and I needed her.”

My pain—and bitterness—over not having a good family couldn’t be worse than the insurmountable ache of losing loving parents. I grew up not knowing what I missed, whereas Andrew knew exactly what he’d lost.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly and reached out and touched his forearm.

“It happened a long time ago.” His gaze fell on my hand, then he looked at me, his lips curling up. “Now, your turn to answer.”

I retrieved my hand. “How did you and Miss Bleached Hair meet?”

His eyebrows pinched for a split second, and he scoffed. “Through a mutual friend. He set us up on a blind date.”

It was hard to believe Andrew had to go on a blind date to find himself a girlfriend. You’d think that with his charisma and melt-your-panties facade women lined up to date him. And he had to pick a total bitch. One thing Andrew and I had in common, we both sucked at selecting the right partners.

The server returned with our wine, and I let Andrew pick which to open first.

After the server poured, I took a quick sniff—the scent of plums, strawberries, and vanilla veiled my mind—took a long sip and swallowed, feeling the burn of alcohol down my throat.

“Delicious.” I smacked my lips. I don’t know why I did that.

Andrew raised his glass, the tension line now relaxed between his brows. “May the hinges of our new-found friendship never grow rusty.”

“Very poetic,” I said before bringing my glass to my mouth.

“What would you toast to?”

“Here’s to you and here’s to me. Friends may we always be. But, if by chance we disagree. Up yours. Here’s to me.” I clicked my glass to his, suppressing my smile, and drained my entire glass. William and I have been using this toast forever. I couldn’t even recall where we first heard it.

Andrew chuckled and took a long sip.

“So.” He set his glass on the table. “You still owe me an answer.”

“You should try this bread,” I said, nodding at the basket. He shook his head. “Watching your figure?” I teased.

“Something like that.”

I gave him an assessing look and reached for the next roll but then paused. I realized that, in all the times we had eaten together, Andrew only ate fruit, vegetables, and protein. Maybe he had a gluten allergy, and here I was making fun of him. Guilt rocketed inside of me.

“I’m being rude.” I dropped my hand on my lap without taking bread. “I wasn’t trying to body-shame you.”

“I know,” he said, with an easy smile and leaned back in his chair. “Now, you were going to answer my question…”

The sun had finally retired, leaving us with just a few last pink streaks lingering in the indigo skies, and already several glimmering stars. I poured more wine into my glass and drank half of it.

An irresistible attraction to Andrew set my defense wall around my heart on fire and made me want something more beyond this trip. But it was pointless for me to want it because people like me never ended up with people like Andrew. Life wasn’t a Cinderella story. He came from a blue-blood family, bound together with posh education, nobility, and a solid household. Whereas I had no college education, was probably nth generation hillbilly, and I had a problematic relationship with the only alive—to my knowledge—parent. As painful as it was to accept my college ex was right, no matter what I’d become in my life, no matter how much money I had, I was a girl from a trailer park.

“Why is it so vital for you to know? After this trip, we’ll go our separate ways,” I said.

I was either totally taken with Andrew or too drunk because a lump developed in my throat, and I washed it down into the pit of my stomach with more wine.

“Don’t forget that you’re invited to the museum exhibition opening night when this treasure hunt is all over,” he said, his voice quiet but pulling me out of my spiral before it dragged me deeper into a dark woe. He poured more wine into my glass and added some to his.

“Oh yes, we’ll see each other again.”

“Adriana,” Andrew said, a shadow of hurt or perhaps disappointment clouding his expression. In this light, the colors in his eyes were indistinguishable. The shade of a tropical ocean at twilight. God, he was beautiful. “We’ll stay in touch. I don’t understand why you think we won’t. I’d like us to continue our friendship.”

As with everything—lovers or friends—when it came to a long distance, any relationship was doomed to die. Some sooner than others.

“Yes.” I smiled, nodding. “We can WhatsApp each other. You can send me photos when you go on a new quest, and I can send you pictures of my store—if I have one—and then eventually we’ll get busy and forget about each other.” I was turning into a Debbie Downer. Andrew’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned back in his chair. My chest cramped, and I blew out a long, slow breath. “I’m not negative by nature, but this is just reality. You meet someone new, have an exciting time with them, and then you go your separate ways swearing to stay in touch and be friends. At first, you text like crazy, but over time you stop. This is just business, Andrew.”

His expression was unreadable. “Is it now?”

And the edge to his voice cut me through and through. I looked away.

Mellow Latin music echoed around us, and a warm breeze caressed my shoulders. The couple at the table next to us were whispering, the guy brushing his finger down his date’s neck. She closed her eyes, obviously enjoying the moment. I envied her. I wanted that too, but with my attitude, I doubted I’d get it.

He changed the subject. “You never told me how you got into the wine business.” Andrew turned the bottle by its neck and checked its label. I sent a small prayer for the welcome interruption to my negativity.

“It was pure fluke. My college degree was in biology… well… I didn’t exactly graduate.” I peered into the depth of my glass, the warmth of wine spreading inside my chest, but embarrassment turned my feet stone cold. My scholarship could have gone to someone else, and I’d wasted that money. “At the start of my last year, I took a trip to the Biltmore, and at a wine and chocolate class, I tried to impress an instructor with my wine production familiarity. I used all the knowledge I got out of the two-semester Botany 341 class. A gentleman from the neighboring table started chatting with me. He introduced himself as Robert Parker, the owner of Salzburg Distributing Company. He called me ‘a diamond in the rough.’ A sommelier in the making. And right then and there he offered me a job. I saw an opportunity to make more money than I would have as a biology teacher, so I jumped on it.”

I peeked over the edge of the glass, catching Andrew watching me with an unreadable expression. “What?”

“Your green eyes turn a shade darker and twinkle when you talk about something you love or want.”

In silence, we studied the menu until the server returned, uncorked the second bottle, and took our order. Smocked spare dibs with sugar cane sauce and potatoes for me, and Andrew asked for salmon with vizcaina sauce on a bed of slow-roasted vegetables.

“Are you a master sommelier?” Andrew asked.

“Oh gosh no. I’m certified. I love wine, know a lot about it, and am good at sales, but I can’t be one of those talented people. They must give up so much. Food, perfume, drinks, soaps, smoking… not that I smoke. I want to own a boutique store where people can sip on their wine, take wine pairing classes, and so on.”

The fourth glass of wine made me relaxed and fuzzy inside. I should drink some water. Working years in the wine business hadn’t increased my tolerance.

“What made you want to open a store?”

“The idea came to me when I met an artisanal olive oil and balsamic vinegar importer at the woman-owned wineries symposium. Her successful life story of going from cleaning toilets in a restaurant to running her company inspired me to have my own business. I took some of her seminars teaching about oils, and,” I said with a shrug, “I know a lot about wines, and the two sort of always go well together.”

I left out that the main reason for this idea was a hope that, in people’s eyes, I would look more noteworthy if I ran my own thriving business.

“How much money do you need to open your store?”

“A lot. Right now, the building is an empty shell. The person I purchased it from gutted it but then stopped their work. The building’s location is perfect, and it has a second floor that I was planning on turning into a small apartment to live in. I know it will take more money to fix it up. And the city has byzantine stipulations when it comes to historical buildings. I’m not against preserving antiquity—I support that—but some rules are a real doozy.” I drew in a deep breath of fresh air. Saying all of that out loud brought the old thrill of becoming a businesswoman, promoting and helping other women-owned companies.

The conjunto began to play a lovely melody and a few couples left their tables and started to dance. Andrew placed his linen napkin beside his water glass and rose to his feet.

“Dance with me?” He offered me his hand.

Nerves, excitement, and drunk adrenaline coursed through me. My body hummed with anticipation of Andrew’s touch, his closeness.

We sauntered to the center of the patio. I had danced before, but I felt out of my depth. My nose twitched. Once. Twice. I glanced up at Andrew. He watched me with tenderness, and a lovely smile adorned his face. It took a lot of restraint not to reach out and trace his lips, running my fingertips over them.

He placed a hand on my mid-back, setting off a wave of goosebumps over my skin. His left hand clasped my right one, and he laced his fingers with mine. I rested my other hand on his shoulder, my fingers barely touching the exposed skin of his neck. It was pure torture not to be able to crush my entire body against his.

We slowly moved to the rhythm of the music. To maintain an even pulse, I tried to control my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. It didn’t work. My heart beat so fast and loud he probably could hear it. He focused straight ahead, his lips curved up into a relaxed smile. A faint scar I hadn’t noticed before under the crease on his chin stood out among his stubble.

His smile stretched wider, and he dropped his eyes to mine. I averted mine, pretending to study the collar of his shirt. “You’re staring.”

“I wasn’t.” I mustered bravery and met his gaze. “How did you earn this?” I traced the zigzagged skin with my finger.

“Nekhen, Egypt. My grandfather took me for a two-week-long dig at an archaeological site. I tried to balance on two stacked rocks, and it didn’t end well. I broke my wrist and busted my chin.”

I winced. “Ouch.”

“It didn’t hurt as much as my pride. I was trying to impress a girl.” He bent so his lips were near my ear. “By the way, I didn’t see anything in the church.” His breath caressed my skin. “But I did notice your underwear hanging in your bathroom.”

My cheeks caught on fire. I’d forgotten I’d washed my panties and hung them to air-dry. I rested my forehead into his chest and chuckled.

Andrew’s palm pressed me closer, then he moved my right hand up, placing it on his shoulder. I loosely wrapped my arms around his neck, closing the space between us. The world disappeared, and it was only the two of us, swaying under starry skies, blanketed in balmy air. My skin pleasantly tingled where his palm pressed on my back. The warmth of his body penetrated mine, and he lit all my sensitive nerve endings on fire. His heartbeat was strong, and mixed with my own, creating a wonderful symphony in my soul. This moment was perfect. Andrew holding me felt right. Emotions were thick in my throat as I tried not to think about how much I’d miss him when this trip was over.

The song ended too soon. I wished it would go on until sunrise. Andrew and I stopped dancing and stood still, simply embracing each other. Against my own wish, I peeled away from his body and went to our table, our dinner waiting for us. I grabbed my glass of wine and finished it.

After our initial bites, we exchanged pleasantries, and then we lapsed into silence, only stealing a few discreet glances at each other as we ate.

* * *

Feeble light from oil lamps added an enchanting touch to a dimly lit hallway as we silently ambled. The air around us was full of crackling electricity—or maybe it was just me.

When we reached my room, I dug the iron key out of my purse. This time I gripped it tight so I wouldn’t drop it. I turned to steal a last glimpse of Andrew. I swayed. Oops, wine tide. Andrew’s hand moved to my elbow, steadying me. His eyes searched mine, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His grip tightened, and I wanted those fingers to press on the other aroused part of my body. I wanted this man in an undeniable way I’d never experienced. I was a sexually deprived— drunk —grown-ass, woman who could do whatever she wanted. And I wanted to throw myself at him, turning this evening into another deeply satisfying part of this trip. A perfect la fin to this adventure. A heartbreaking but mind-blowing fling.

He relaxed his grip, and his hand skated down, his fingers curling around my finger. I glanced down at our linked hands and then lifted my eyes to Andrew’s. His pupils were wide, and his sultry gaze held mine firmly, pinning me in place, and for a moment I hoped he would lean in to kiss me. I bet he was a toe-curling kisser, which would get my heart into a lot of trouble—the heart that was already beating unsteadily at the sight of his smile.

Andrew swallowed. Stepped to me. The air got hot and thick. I tilted my head. He was so much closer, yet there was too much space between us. His lips curved slightly at their corners, and he smoothed my hair off my face, losing me in the gentle touch. His eyes slid toward my mouth. If he doesn’t kiss me now, I will die. He lowered his head, and I closed my eyes, trying to keep breathing despite the lack of oxygen, waiting for Andrew to ravage my mouth, press me against the door, slide his hand around and under my dress, brush his fingers over my clit.

His soft, warm lips pressed against my cheek.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Andrew said in a gravelly tone, his stubble grazing my skin. A simple sweep of a kiss on my skin, yet it set off an army of goosebumps over my body. I leaned into him, wanting more, but he stepped back, releasing my hand, and my stomach plummeted. “Goodnight, Adriana.”

I’m in trouble

William

What happened?

I like Andrew. Like REALLY like him.

YaY

It’s not a Yay. I don’t need this heartbreak

No heartbreak. Just enjoy the moment. Think of it as your sex therapy.

Who said I’m going to have sex with him?

aren’t you?

No.

Yes. I want him like I never wanted anybody else.

BOWCHICKAWOWOW

where are you? It’s almost midnight

I’m still with Brandon. He is soooo hot. So much fun!

are you going to Andrew’s room?

No

why not?????

I have to think about it

What’s there to think? He wants you. You want him. Go!

??? He wants me?

Are you dense? He undresses you with his eyes every time he looks at you

Didn’t notice

[Contact Shared] Eye Center of Atlanta

why did you send me that?

because you’re clearly blind. Andrew looks at you like you’re the only woman he has ever seen

whatever

he watches you like he wants to pee all over you to mark his territory

eeewww

he wants you

he didn’t kiss me tonight

I’m done talking to you

Aren’t you going to ask more?

Love ya

Did you read my txt above? He didn’t kiss me!!!!

You probably did something stupid and scared him away

BTW what did you find tonight?

We found a twin bracelet, a working cipher, and a bundle of old letters.

Do we know our next move?

Yes some waterfall where the pirate went down on his lady.

Whoa. Details, please?

That’s all I got

oops got to go. Chat tomorrow. YAY you going to get laid!

In the morning we need to go shopping for new clothes and boots. We are going on a hike.

Another YAY