“Okay, I promise.” Vi straightened her shoulders. “I’ll calm down, but only because I know you’re in charge.” She drew a deep, visible breath. “Okay. Calm. You see? Now I’m going home to soak in a warm tub. And maybe when Pirro finally gets home, I can entice him into bed,” she said with a dreamy sigh.
“Aunt Vi!” Rafe gave an exaggerated shudder.
Ignoring him, the woman walked away, humming.
Rafe groaned. “I swear sometimes I think she’ll drive me to drink,” he muttered.
Sara laughed. “She’s a character. I hope she’s wrong about Pirro.”
“I do, too. There’s nothing I believe in more than fidelity.”
Sara reached out and touched his cheek. “Angel told me about your father,” she said softly. “It couldn’t have been easy for you or your family.”
“It wasn’t.” A muscle ticked in his jaw as he struggled to explain, hating the memories that came back to him. “My mother would pretend to be strong for us during the day, then at night she’d cry herself to sleep. I wanted to hate him,” he said of his father. “But when he came home and made things work, I settled for promising myself I’d never be like him.”
She grasped his hand, knowing how hard the admissions must be for him.
“Let’s walk.” She guided him away from the family booth and any prying eyes or ears. She didn’t ask questions, either. She waited for him to talk when he was ready.
They strode down Main Street, toward where he’d parked his car hours earlier. “You want to know the ironic thing?” he finally asked.
“What’s that?”
“Right before I switched shifts and stopped being your partner, I nearly followed in his footsteps.”
“How?”
“By cheating on my fiancée with you.”
Sara opened her mouth, then closed it again, shocked by his words. She could still remember the way he had looked at her while he was buried deep inside her body. She’d been so shaken by the wealth of emotions he made her feel, and now this admission. He’d left their partnership to avoid acting on his feelings for her. The thought both thrilled and panicked her at the same time.
She moistened her dry lips. “But we never even came close to kissing. Or to admitting we had chemistry.”
“But we wanted to.” He met her gaze, a knowing look in his eyes. “And if I’d stuck around, it was only a matter of time before we did.”
Sara shook her head, everything in her rebelling at his words. “I’m sorry, but I can’t jump to the same conclusion as you. We wouldn’t have acted on it.”
He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because I know you. You have more honor and integrity than anyone else I know. More self-restraint, too. You’d have to have it in spades be a hostage negotiator.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” A grim smile settled over his lips.
“You’re welcome. Now, quit being so hard on yourself,” she said, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood.
“If you say so.”
Sara shivered despite the summer sun beating down on her from overhead.
They climbed into his car and headed back to his house to shower and change for the wine tasting that night. Sara remained silent, deep in thought. She had a new understanding of this man and his feelings for her. Whether she could handle them or not was something else entirely.
THE WINE TASTING was held at a town park, the land donated by a wealthy vineyard owner who’d had a part in organizing this annual event. Tents had been erected and placed around the area to help shade the event-goers from the heat until the sun finally went down well past 8:00 p.m. Hundreds of wine vendors from the Finger Lakes area showcased their wines.
Sara held Rafe’s warm hand inside hers as they made their way through the mass of people. She’d managed to avoid any intimacy between them while they were home and was still working on shoring up her defenses. Never before had she felt vulnerable to a man, and though she’d gone into this thing with Rafe knowing it was risky, she’d never imagined that sex could lead to such complications. Not for a woman who prided herself on moving on without looking back.
And she had more important things to concentrate on than emotional attachments. So far neither she nor Rafe had noticed or felt anything out of the ordinary. No odd people watching her, just a lot of strangers milling around.
“Is it my imagination or is it twice as crowded tonight compared to earlier this afternoon?” she asked him.
“It’s not your imagination at all. And it’ll only get worse as the weekend goes by. Friday midday brings in stragglers who can take the time off from work to get here for the opening festivities. By Friday evening, you’ve got people who left work early, and by Saturday, things are in full swing,” Rafe explained.
She tried unsuccessfully to glance beyond the bodies into the individual booths to see what they were giving away. Frustrated, she gave up. “I’m not really a wine connoisseur, but how do you compare tastes at an event so crowded?”
“You don’t. Hang on.” He pushed through the mass of people and returned with a plastic cup of white wine. “When the festival first started, it was more about actual wine tasting and comparison. Lately it’s become a drinking, partying event.”
She laughed. “Works for me.” She raised her plastic cup.
“Me, too. So, when in Rome…” He lifted his cup. “To…” He trailed off, obviously stumped.
“To friends with benefits,” she said, touching her cup to his and solidifying what they were to each other by saying it aloud.
She’d been so thrown by his comment about having feelings for her while still engaged, by the way he’d looked at her while he was buried deep inside her body, so frightened by the wealth of emotions he’d made her feel, she had to gather her defenses.
He stared at her, dumbfounded. His eyes, once warm, frosted over. “Thank you for the reminder.” He straightened his shoulders, his emotional walls firmly in place.
It was what she wanted, what she needed to do for herself, and yet the sudden chill between them scared her more than the emotions that had swamped her earlier. “Rafe…”
“There’s a deejay beyond the tent. Let’s go listen to music,” he said, then clasped her hand and headed out of the crowd and the tents.