Page 33 of Intoxicating Pursuit

When we finished the dishes, Mom headed back to her cottage to finish the book she was engrossed in, and I took a glass of wine out to the front porch, ending my day where it began.

The air had cooled, and twilight was darkening the sky from rose to amethyst. Crickets tuned up their songs for the night, and I rocked gently on the swing, sipping a Malbec.

The garden across the street had been rightly decimated.

The toddlers had won their battle against the marigolds.

I thought again of the mom who had raised her voice at them this morning, remembering what it was like to spend every waking moment keeping a little one alive and never having time to do anything for yourself.

It must have been last-nerve frustrating to have those little munchkins rip apart the one shred of beauty she’d had time to plant in the world.

I probably would have raised my voice, too.

My thoughts turned to Gabe. He should never have accused me of something so awful, but what had he been through the last couple decades?

How many people had tried to take advantage of him or betray him?

I sighed, thinking through my own million faults and remembering the kindness he’d shown after my panic attack.

No relationship could survive without a little grace. Or a lot. We were all so fallible.

I finally set down my wine, picked up my phone, and dialed his number.

He picked up after a few rings. “Sammy?”

“Hey.”

“Thanks for calling.”

“Thanks for your text.”

It was quiet a beat, and I didn’t fill the space.

Gabe finally did. “Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about this mess. I haven’t figured out the right path yet, but I’m pretty sure I was a jerk the other day. I owe you an apology."

“You were stressed.”

“Yeah.” He grew quiet again as the first fireflies blinked to life in the yard. “But the truth is. . . I’m struggling with this. I’m not sure what to do.”

He was struggling? My days had not been a picnic. “Yeah, blackmail’s new for me, too.” The words came out clipped and irritable.

“ Shit . No, I mean. . . Look. . .” He huffed out a sigh.

“The thing is. . . trust is non-negotiable for me. It’s really important, but my instincts for it clearly suck.

I keep getting six months or a year into a relationship only to find out I’m not with the person I think I am.

So all I can do is watch for red flags, and they seemed to be flying everywhere. ”

I shook my head. “I get it. New people are always a risk.” I sipped my wine and rocked gently on the porch swing.

“Heck, the last guy I was involved with turned out to have a long-distance engagement he didn’t bother to mention.

And for Pete’s sake, we were introduced by friends.

I would have considered that pretty good insurance. ”

A car drove by, its headlights illuminating the yard for a moment. Otherwise, the neighborhood was still.

“Look, Gabe, I struggle with this too. It always makes me nervous to let someone new into my life. I choose as well as I can, but in the end, it’s a roll of the dice. I have to decide if I’m going to take a chance or not.”

“And how do you decide?”

“Ask honest questions. Get to know people. If they’re friends of friends, it helps, but obviously that’s not foolproof.”

“Okay, fair enough. I like that.” He paused, maybe collecting his thoughts. “Can I ask you some questions then?”

“Yup.”

His voice was steady and even. “Sammy, why did you really drive all the way down to Creekside? What do you want to get out of a relationship with me?”

I found myself shrugging, even though he couldn’t see me.

“There’s nothing I wanted to get out of it.

I’m attracted to you. I enjoy your company.

I simply wanted to spend time with you.” I took a breath.

“And if I’m being fully honest, I also wanted to see if I could be away from my family without falling apart. It almost worked.”

“It stinks that your mom got sick.”

“Yeah.” The lights grew dim in my neighbors’ homes as kids were tucked in for the night and adults retreated to the quiet of their family rooms. “Look, you seem kind and intelligent. You’re easy to talk to and incredibly talented. I just wanted you. Plain and simple. There’s no other agenda.”

“I want you, too. But I’ve got another question.” His voice took on an edge. “I want to know how much trouble your company’s in.”

Back to the money again.

“Well, first thing. It’s my company, not me.

Forbidden Brews is an LLC. So, if everything went down the tubes, it would be really sad—a lifetime of work lost. But my personal finances are separate and protected.

” The temperature was dropping, and I considered retreating inside.

Meghan was home, though, and I didn’t want her to hear our conversation.

“Anyway, I don’t think collapse is on the horizon.

In the past, we’ve always managed to right the ship when things got rocky. We’ll do it again.”

“So, you’re not facing bankruptcy? You’re not in financial peril right now?”

“No.” I swirled the wine in my glass. “Look, I’m not a tech mogul or anything, but I haven’t truly worried about money in a long time—not since that Silicon Valley windfall.

My home is paid off. My daughter’s education is covered.

Even without cash flow from the breweries, I’ve still got enough invested that—as long as I’m not wasteful—my little family will be fine.

. . for the rest of our lives. Ironically, I’m usually the one in the relationship who’s worried about this—being used as a meal ticket, I mean. ”

“One more thing we have in common, I guess.”

“Pretty lucky problem, huh? We’d be almost insane to complain about it.”

“You’re probably right.” He didn’t sound convinced. “But almost everyone’s moral compass starts to bend when enough wealth is at stake. Makes genuine interaction pretty questionable. So, I dunno.”

Dusk had disappeared into night. The porch light was off, and I rocked on the swing as the sky grew darker, sipping the Malbec. He remained quiet.

“Listen, Gabe, all I can tell you is the truth. I love my family. My business is exhausting but fulfilling. I have lifelong friends, and I’m financially secure. I'm not trying to shore up any gaps in my life. Like I said, I just wanted you, and I wanted to spend time with you. That’s all.”

“Past tense?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I mean the wanting you part.

. . that’s not past tense. But I don’t care for drama— at all— and this is some pretty ungodly drama.

Plus, are you even doing anything about these photos?

I got the impression you were ignoring it and blaming it on me.

So I’ve been floundering around trying to solve it on my own—embarrassing myself in front of my friend Ian.

I feel frustrated and pretty pissed, frankly. ”

“I swear we’re trying, but we’re not making much progress. Whoever did this covered their tracks well. There’s very little we can glean from the email.”

“That’s what Ian’s telling me, too. I’m glad you’re trying. I thought you were abandoning me with it.”

“God, I’m making a mess of everything, aren’t I?

” He exhaled. “I wasn’t abandoning you. I promise we’re trying.

” He was quiet a moment. “And, Sammy, I could tell you I don’t come with any drama, but I’d be lying.

It’s not usually bad like this, but I can’t exactly claim my life is normal either. I wish I could tell you otherwise.”

It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but at least he was being open and truthful.

Maybe that’s as much as anyone could ask for.

I tried to let go of my anger. “Well, I obviously come with some issues too. You’ve had a front row seat to that, and you were amazing about it.

I think I owe you some understanding in return. ”

I heard knocking in the background, a faint conversation, then Gabe was in my ear again.

“You don’t owe me anything, Sammy. Listen, I want to get past this.

You’re so bright and accomplished and warm.

You’re creative and practical at the same time—which is pretty much what I live for.

” He paused and his voice dropped. “And good God. . . when I think about our time together at the cabin. . . I practically sweat.”

Heat shot through me, and I sat up straighter on the porch swing.

There was no denying the physical memory of him.

The sensation of his body was still with me—it had been since I’d returned home.

“Yeah, me too.” Stars were emerging low in the sky, under the dark eave of the unlit porch.

I took a deep breath. If we were aiming for honesty, I may as well go all in.

“The truth is. . . I can still feel you, Gabe. Right now. I can’t even describe how it’s been making me ache. ”

He blew out a long breath. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“You’re killing me.”

I could hear the desire in his voice, and my whole body felt alert again—heated, taut, and attentive.

“Listen, we take the stage soon, and I need to get warmed up, but can I call you after the concert? We could talk more, and I would really like to hear about this aching.”

I did hate drama. But an honest, intelligent, gorgeous, mature man? That I could take quite a lot of. I wanted to tell him about the aching. In fact, I wanted to hear the groaning sound he’d made at the cabin when I’d had him in my mouth. I wanted a lot.

I set my misgivings aside—decided to keep rolling the dice. “I’ll answer if you call, Gabe. There are definitely details I could share.”

“Promise me you’ll hold those thoughts, Sammy. I’ll call as soon as I can.”

***

T he dense plaster walls of my aging home earned their keep that night, and most nights thereafter.

Sometimes our calls remained chaste, a time to decompress.

It was nice to talk with someone who understood the trials of raising a teenager and running a business, and I was certainly content to listen to him unpack his day.

Some nights he was weary—worn out from being on the road and interacting with so many people.

Other nights, he was ebullient with energy, overflowing from a set of music that worked and a joyous crowd that poured out their appreciation.

I gladly listened to him regardless of what kind of day he’d had, and I was always happy to finish the night with a little comfort and spice.

Unfortunately, all the cozy tuck-ins in the world couldn’t clear away the worries that kept me awake, nor could they do anything to quell what loomed on the horizon.