Read Online Summer in Napa (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) by Marina Adair - Free Book Online
Authors: Marina Adair
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Book Walk. Her best friend, Abby, wasn’t answering her phone. And Lexi still had two dozen trays left in the kitchen.
She checked her watch and wondered what the time limit was before Nora Kincaid, who had been adamant about timeliness, was justified to act on her promise to publicly pop Lexi’s cream puffs. Not long, she imagined, since the event started in ten minutes.
Maybe if she dropped the backseat down she could make it in two trips.
Lexi set the trays on the roof and crawled into the car. Unlatching the seat locks, she pulled. And pulled. With afrown, and a whole lot of stomping, she went around to the trunk, leaned in, and started pushing.
“Well, look who it is, Wingman. Our friendly neighborhood backside.”
Lexi looked over her shoulder, surprised to see Marc, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned out the widow of his pickup and watched her struggle. She was less surprised, however, at the annoying fluttering that started low in her belly just because she looked at him. Irritated, but not surprised. The man was sexy as sin, and he knew it.
He wore his dimpled grin and enough stubble to show that he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. Which shouldn’t have bothered Lexi. But it did. And that made her nervous.
“Go away,” she mumbled, focusing on the back seats again. Because divorcées who couldn’t make it work with the sure thing had no business getting bothered by the hometown playboy.
“Heard you might need a hand,” he said. “Actually, heard you might need a truck to lug all of the pastries.”
“You heard?” She didn’t turn around.
“Yup, ChiChi called an hour ago saying you’d need a ride. Pricilla about ten minutes after that.”
Which meant their grandmas were trying to set her up on yet another date she hadn’t agreed to. With Marc.
“I’ve got it handled,” she lied. “You can go.”
“Nah, we’ll wait. It’s not every day that a guy gets a morning flash of red lace before he’s even had his coffee. Huh, Wingman?”
Wingman panted loudly from the passenger seat.
With a squeak Lexi jerked up, smacking her head on the top of the trunk, her hands smoothing down the back of her dress. She reached the hem and stopped, pinning him with a glare. “I’m not wearing red today.”
“No?” He rested his forearm on the windowsill and shrugged matter-of-factly. “Well, a man can dream.”
“Does this whole ‘let me guess the color of your panties and then you’ll be charmed into taking a ride with me’ shtick really work?”
He paused for a second, as though surprised that it hadn’t. Then the dimples were back. “I can see you’re still a crabby morning person, which is why I brought coffee.” He held up two cups, and she nearly drooled at the scents of hazelnut and vanilla wafting out of his car window. She’d already had a cup, when she’d first gotten up and started baking. That had been five hours ago.
She walked over, snatched a coffee, and took a sip, her eyes closing at the heavenly flavor. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Opening the door, Marc stepped out of the cab, went around to the passenger side, and opened the door for her. “Hop in and I’ll load up. It’ll only take a minute. Then we can be on our way and I won’t even make you admit that I saved the day.”
He took her elbow to help her in, and wouldn’t you know it, little sparks of attraction shot straight down to her toes. “I’m not getting in your truck.”
“You can get used to the idea on the way to the high school.”
When she didn’t budge, except to take another sip of coffee, he slammed the door and leaned in, close enough that she could smell his soap mingling with the scent offrustrated man. She liked him frustrated; it left no room for the smooth-talking stud boy.
“Christ, woman, you are the most stubborn person I have ever met. I know that you’ve got more trays in that kitchen than you’ve got space in your trunk. And while
She checked her watch and wondered what the time limit was before Nora Kincaid, who had been adamant about timeliness, was justified to act on her promise to publicly pop Lexi’s cream puffs. Not long, she imagined, since the event started in ten minutes.
Maybe if she dropped the backseat down she could make it in two trips.
Lexi set the trays on the roof and crawled into the car. Unlatching the seat locks, she pulled. And pulled. With afrown, and a whole lot of stomping, she went around to the trunk, leaned in, and started pushing.
“Well, look who it is, Wingman. Our friendly neighborhood backside.”
Lexi looked over her shoulder, surprised to see Marc, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned out the widow of his pickup and watched her struggle. She was less surprised, however, at the annoying fluttering that started low in her belly just because she looked at him. Irritated, but not surprised. The man was sexy as sin, and he knew it.
He wore his dimpled grin and enough stubble to show that he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. Which shouldn’t have bothered Lexi. But it did. And that made her nervous.
“Go away,” she mumbled, focusing on the back seats again. Because divorcées who couldn’t make it work with the sure thing had no business getting bothered by the hometown playboy.
“Heard you might need a hand,” he said. “Actually, heard you might need a truck to lug all of the pastries.”
“You heard?” She didn’t turn around.
“Yup, ChiChi called an hour ago saying you’d need a ride. Pricilla about ten minutes after that.”
Which meant their grandmas were trying to set her up on yet another date she hadn’t agreed to. With Marc.
“I’ve got it handled,” she lied. “You can go.”
“Nah, we’ll wait. It’s not every day that a guy gets a morning flash of red lace before he’s even had his coffee. Huh, Wingman?”
Wingman panted loudly from the passenger seat.
With a squeak Lexi jerked up, smacking her head on the top of the trunk, her hands smoothing down the back of her dress. She reached the hem and stopped, pinning him with a glare. “I’m not wearing red today.”
“No?” He rested his forearm on the windowsill and shrugged matter-of-factly. “Well, a man can dream.”
“Does this whole ‘let me guess the color of your panties and then you’ll be charmed into taking a ride with me’ shtick really work?”
He paused for a second, as though surprised that it hadn’t. Then the dimples were back. “I can see you’re still a crabby morning person, which is why I brought coffee.” He held up two cups, and she nearly drooled at the scents of hazelnut and vanilla wafting out of his car window. She’d already had a cup, when she’d first gotten up and started baking. That had been five hours ago.
She walked over, snatched a coffee, and took a sip, her eyes closing at the heavenly flavor. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Opening the door, Marc stepped out of the cab, went around to the passenger side, and opened the door for her. “Hop in and I’ll load up. It’ll only take a minute. Then we can be on our way and I won’t even make you admit that I saved the day.”
He took her elbow to help her in, and wouldn’t you know it, little sparks of attraction shot straight down to her toes. “I’m not getting in your truck.”
“You can get used to the idea on the way to the high school.”
When she didn’t budge, except to take another sip of coffee, he slammed the door and leaned in, close enough that she could smell his soap mingling with the scent offrustrated man. She liked him frustrated; it left no room for the smooth-talking stud boy.
“Christ, woman, you are the most stubborn person I have ever met. I know that you’ve got more trays in that kitchen than you’ve got space in your trunk. And while
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