Page 7 of Love Among Vines

CHAPTER SIX

JADE

Ten minutes later, she was in a truck with a borderline stranger, bumping down the stony driveway. The air conditioning was mercifully on, and it was without a doubt better than sweating her ass off all the way back to the house.

“So,” Rett said. “If we’re going to do this, we need a plan.”

“A plan?”

This was insane. Was she seriously doing this? Fake dating a complete stranger just so she didn’t have to face Nate and his judgy family alone?

Penny had chosen the middle seat, with her head propped on Rett’s lap. Traitor. Jade was going to have to dip even further into her experience budget to buy him a lint roller.

“Yes,” he said. “My parents will ask questions. So we should at least get to know each other.”

“That’s fair,” she said.

“You’ll have to show me your art, of course. I’ll need to know about your friends, your family. Hobbies and interests. All of that.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He took his eyes off the road for a moment and smirked at her.

“Fine, I’ll start,” he said in response to her silence. “Everett Ignatius Rhodes?—”

“ Ignatius ?”

“It means fiery.” He glowered. “My mom was really sleep-deprived.”

“Fair enough. Go on.”

“So. Everett Ignatius Rhodes.”

She bit her lip and looked out the window. A name like that belonged in a faraway castle or, at the very least, on a memorial somewhere celebrating a Puritanical town founder.

“Mostly lifelong resident of Hammondsport, graduated from the local high school before getting a master’s in business from Cornell?—”

Hmmm. An Ivy League guy. He was like a slightly more approachable version of Nate.

“—and an advanced sommelier certificate from the Wine School of Philadelphia.”

“There’s no way that’s a thing,” Jade interrupted.

“Which part?”

“The Wine School of Philadelphia?” she raised her eyebrows. “Is that just a euphemism for tailgating outside Lincoln Financial Field?”

Rett frowned and turned on his blinker. “It’s one of the most highly respected wine schools in the entire country.”

“Sure. Well, in that case I graduated summa cum laude from Fancy Pants Arts Academy and apprenticed under Dr. Robert Ross.”

“You’re really going to besmirch the good name of American treasure Bob Ross?”

She smiled again. There was a sense of humor beneath that buttoned-up exterior. Who knew?

“You’re right,” she said. “That was too far. So after obtaining your sommelier certification from that imaginary school, you came back here?”

“I did. My grandmother was sick. She taught me everything she knew, left countless notebooks filled with her winemaking notes. She passed away last February.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. And she left the winery to you? Not your parents?”

Rett nodded. His smile was gone. “My dad—Gerald Rhodes, for the record—is really into music. He moved to California to write scores for movies. That’s where he met my mom.”

“What does your mom do?”

“She’s an actress. Teresa Rhodes.”

That name sounded familiar. She’d have to Google her later.

“Shortly after they got married,” he continued, “my dad realized he wanted to be closer to home. So my mom pivoted to Broadway, and we moved to Hammondsport. They technically stayed until I graduated high school, but my mom was gone a lot. She still took a lot of roles in movies, and I knew she always considered California her real home. They’ve been there ever since.

I spent summers in college here with my grandma learning about wine. ”

“Wow. And just in case it comes up”—and definitely not because she was being nosy—“the ex?”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Alexa. We met when I was at school in Philly. She moved to Rochester when I got my certificate, and we dated for two and a half years. Now she’s dating my older brother.”

She grimaced. At least Ashley wasn’t her sister.

“Yeah,” he said. “We don’t talk much.”

“I don’t blame you. Thank you.”

“For what?” He shot her a glance. His brows were still contracted.

“For sharing. It makes me feel a little less weird about the fountain of crazy I spewed all over you. Sorry again for that.”

“Don’t do that,” he said. True to his middle name, fire was in his eyes.

“Do what?” She looked around the interior. She hadn’t put her feet on the dash. It was a little late for him to be scolding her on the metric ton of dog fur that was probably stuck to the seat.

“Don’t apologize needlessly. Don’t make yourself small.”

Oh . A thrill ran through her. She had never been one for bossy men—the world had enough of them—but there was something intriguing about being bossed around for her own good.

“It’s a pet peeve of mine,” he added. “Even if you’re just my fake girlfriend, I want you to be completely and unapologetically you.”

“S—I was going to say sorry, but I won’t. Because you’re right. I’m not sorry for talking about my feelings.”

“That’s right. So we were discussing your tenure at…what was it? Fancy Pants Art Academy?”

She bit her lip. In thirty minutes, she had already shared more with Rett than she had told any of her flings over the past two years.

But with the exception of this golden anniversary event that she still wasn’t totally sure she was committing to, she’d probably never see him again.

So what was the harm in letting him in a little?

“Yeah. My story isn’t as cute. I’m a lifelong resident of the greater Manhattan metropolitan area.

I grew up in a lower middle-class family in Queens and attended public school through eighth grade.

Then I got a scholarship to Rothschild Academy.

That’s where I met Ashley—the bride—and probably the only reason why I got into NYU. ”

He let out a low whistle. “NYU? That’s a pretty big deal.”

She shrugged. “I did the art program. It was great for a while. I was actually pretty successful. I sold almost everything I ever painted while I was there. Even made it onto a few ‘thirty under thirty’ lists.”

He nodded and appeared to be listening intently.

“And then everything fell apart,” she said.

“Because of your ex?” he asked quietly.

Jade laughed, a weird reaction for such a serious moment. A weight settled on her chest. She hadn’t intended on telling him this. She had certainly never told any of her hookups about the incident. But someone she was truly dating would know.

She took a deep breath. “Because my parents died. It was completely unexpected.”

The truck rolled to a stop at an intersection. Rett turned to face her, concern in his eyes. He must really think she was pathetic now.

“I’m so sorry.” He reached across the middle seat—or, more accurately, the dog—and gripped her hand. His hand was soft and warm. Comforting. She wasn’t usually much of a hand holder, but there was nothing awkward about his embrace.

Another thrill ran through her in spite of the heaviness of the conversation.

“Yeah, it sucked. It was my last Christmas Eve of grad school. They had gone downtown to pick up my favorite cake from this bakery, Crumb and Get It. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit them while they crossed the street.”

He blew out a long breath and squeezed her hand before lifting his foot from the brake. The truck inched forward down the highway.

“I know. Didn’t know you were getting a three-for-one deal on sob stories today, did you?”

They were in town now, crawling around the village green. There was silence in the truck as they passed another restaurant emanating amazing smells. If only she could hang out here and get to know this adorable little town. But she had to get back to the city. Didn’t she?

“So you met the boyfriend in grad school?” he asked.

“Yeah. Nate was studying finance at NYU. We collided while ice skating at Rockefeller Center and started dating the next week.” She shifted the collar of her shirt to cover up the tiny ice skate tattoo that commemorated the event.

Nate had a matching one. “He really stood by me when my parents died. Helped me deal with the house, the life insurance, the double funeral.”

Rett hadn’t moved his hand. He squeezed hers again.

The lake sparkled outside the window. She took a deep breath and paused. It had been almost three years since she opened the door to a cop with his hat in his hand, but the memory stung as much as it ever had.

“He met Ashley at the funeral. That day passed in a complete blur. I barely remember anything. But I do remember him laughing when he talked to her. That stuck out to me because, of course, why was he laughing while my parents were dead behind him? I probably should have seen it then, but I was…”

“Distracted?” he offered.

“Yeah.” She turned away to look out the window.

“And your other friends?”

“I lost a lot of them in the breakup. Ashley’s always stuck by me. You know, as long as you don’t count the part where she fell in love with my boyfriend.”

Rett turned up the eastern side of the lake. His brow was furrowed.

“So why do you stay?”

“In the city? I told you, it’s where the art world is.”

“But you could make art anywhere. And probably cut your rent in half just by leaving city limits.”

Jade paused. He had a point. Maybe she had been holding on to a small piece of her original dream with Nate—a New York City power couple who dominated in the art world and in finance.

“Yeah, well. It’s the only home I’ve ever known.”

Maybe it was a stupid reason to stay. But the city was also filled with memories of her parents—trips to the zoo, gawking at the exhibitions at the Met, mugs of warm coffee in their favorite cafe.

Rett was silent as the truck shifted up a steep incline.

“Well,” he said a minute later, “now that we’ve covered the basics, we should probably get to the plan. Are plus-ones invited to the rehearsal dinner?”

She shook her head.

He frowned. “So there won’t be anyone to take the heat off of you if necessary. But they can’t stop me from bringing something to you. Where’s it at?”

“Alder and Oak.” It had an awfully Manhattan-esque name for a restaurant in a tiny town.

“Great place,” he said. “When we get to the house, run inside and grab something for me that you’ll need for the rehearsal or the wedding—shoes, earrings, lipstick, whatever.”

He was awfully bossy.

“Why, so you can hold it hostage?”

“No, so I can storm in and save the day and bring it to you. They don’t need to know the details of why I have them. A new mystery boyfriend is guaranteed to shift the conversation away from your career.”

She turned to face him. “Okay, seriously. Why are you doing all this? Is this a fetish thing?”

There was no reason on earth why a man as pants-searingly hot as Rett would be single and ready to take on the role of a lifetime for a girl he just met.

He chuckled. “It’s not a fetish. I’m just hoping if I play my role well enough, you’ll agree to come back for the anniversary party. If it’ll help get my parents off my back, I will happily fake propose to you in the middle of your ex’s wedding.”

“They must be really bad matchmakers. Oh, it’s the next left.” She pointed at the driveway flanked by a stone wall.

He slowed down and put his turn signal on. “You have no idea. The last time they came home they brought along a twenty-one-year-old daughter of a business associate. I had to entertain her the whole weekend. Have you hung out with a twenty-one-year-old lately?”

Jade shook her head.

“It was exhausting. She got drunk off of two wine coolers and threw up on my dock.”

“Yikes.”

They pulled into the circular driveway. Thankfully no one was outside.

“Okay, let me grab something. I’ll be right back.”

As she moved to open the door, Rett caught her wrist.

Her skin tingled at his touch.

“Wait. One more thing.”

“What?” She looked at him expectantly.

He had leaned over Penny, leaving inches between them. His eyes were meadow green in the dappled sunlight. One forearm was flexed on the steering wheel. His fancy waistcoat lay buttoned over what were probably six-pack abs. Desire stirred deep and hot in her core.

Could they update their agreement to include a friends-with-benefits clause? If he was going to murder her, she might as well die in the throes of passion.

The air between them vibrated with possibility. She tipped toward him, no more than a centimeter.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and his expression changed. He drew his hand back, her heart falling with the movement. Obviously he wasn’t going in for a kiss, idiot. She needed to stop thinking with her vagina.

“Don’t forget to refrigerate your cheese,” he finally said.

Was that really what he had meant to say? It didn’t matter. At least she hadn’t made a fool of herself. Again. Time to focus and give him a reason to return later on.

“I just remembered something.” She unzipped her backpack and dug through it, pushing aside art supplies and a bag of dog treats. Finally, all the way at the bottom, a small Tiffany-blue box appeared.

She pressed it into his hand. “Here. I put them in here for safe keeping. I’m supposed to wear them tomorrow.”

He cracked the lid of the box open, then glanced at the house. “Looks like it’s going to be a hell of a wedding.”

“You have no idea. Don’t lose those, okay? Or Ashley might actually murder you.”

He shrugged. “She can’t marry your ex if she’s in prison for manslaughter.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “I’ll see you later?”

There was a seriousness in his eyes. “I’ll be there.”