Page 99 of Hope After Loss

“We can leave the festival a little early on Sunday and fit the tour in before we head back to Balsam Ridge,” he offers.

“It’s okay. This is a business trip. We’ll just have to come back and see the house and the winery. Christmastime, they have candlelit tours, and they decorate every inch of the estate,” I say without thinking.

I glance over the top of the menu, and he’s grinning at me.

“I didn’t mean that you and I would come or that you’d want to vacation with me. I can ask one of the girls,” I start to babble and then duck behind the slip of paper.

Weston reaches over, and his finger lowers the menu so he can see me. I’m sure my face is as red as the rose in the center of the table.

“I’d love to bring you back for a long weekend.”

“You would?”

“Yes. In case I haven’t made it clear before, I like spending time with you, Anna Kunder.”

“I like spending time with you too, Weston Tuttle,” I whisper.

The waitress returns with our glasses, and we give her our entrée selections.

Weston raises his mug, and I clink my wineglass against it.

Then, we enjoy one of the best meals I’ve ever had.

Weston purchased a bottle of the Chenin Blanc from the restaurant and borrowed an opener and two glasses from the concierge of the inn.

We sit at the fireplace out on the veranda and share our wine with a lovely couple who is here celebrating their tenth wedding anniversary until well past midnight.

Then, we walk hand in hand to our rooms.

“Sweet dreams,” Weston says, and then he kisses my cheek.

“You want to come in and watch some cheesy late-night television with me?” I ask.

He hesitates for a moment, glancing from his door and back to me.

“It’s okay if you’re tired. I know tomorrow will be a long day,” I say, turning to unlock the door.

“It’s not that. I just …”

I turn back to him, and he steps closer, pressing me into the frame of the door.

“If I come in with you, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” I whisper.

He lifts my chin with his finger. “Are you sure?”

“No.”

He frowns. “Then, I shouldn’t come in.”

I fist my hands into his linen shirt. “I want you to come in. Please. Can’t we just spend the night together even if I’m unsure? Because I don’t know if I’ll ever be a hundred percent sure. I just want to jump into the deep end with you.”

He takes the key card from my fingers, reaches behind me and pushes the door open. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he walks us inside.

As soon as we clear the doorway, Weston kicks the door shut and then turns me and pins me up against it.

His mouth finds mine as he fumbles with the interior lock, and he hungrily kisses me. Once I hear the clicking of the metal, his hands slide down and around to cup my behind and bring me in closer. My head falls back against the cool surface, and I reach and thread my fingers through his silky, dark hair. He presses his body to mine. His big, muscular body. The heat of him envelops me, and all doubts slip from my mind as pulsating need replaces them.