St. Helena Vineyard Series: A Perfect Proposal (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4

  To emphasize his point, he took a sip of the wine in front of him.

  “You can’t rush wine, and that slow process effects the entire attitude of the valley. Computers are fast, and everyone expects the next big thing yesterday. I started delivering the next big thing in a very consistent manner, well ahead of the curve. I did the math, and I figured what it would take to retire early and come live up here. I want this.” Craig gestured and almost hit a waiter with his long arms.

  He cringed and apologized. Then repeated the gesture, only with smaller movements. “I want this type of environment to have a family in.”

  “I couldn’t actually believe that Miranda wanted to date me.” He realized that was the wrong choice of words as Lysia slumped and dropped her focus back to her plate. “I’m a bit of a dork, if you haven’t already noticed.”

  Their waiter interrupted and removed the salad plates, replacing them with steaming plates of lasagna for him, and ravioli for Lysia. The smell of garlic and marinara sauce filled Craig’s nose. He inhaled the scent. Italian food, good wine, and a beautiful woman for company, So far this date was going well.

  “I don’t know about dork, but, no offense, you definitely have some nerd and geek on you.” She held up her hand to stop him from talking. “It’s a case of ‘it takes one to know one.’ I’m typically the designated weirdo in any group. I’ve been known to read comic books, but I’m not a collector, and I certainly couldn’t tell you in what issue Superman died the first time.”

  Craig leaned forward. “But you know it exists.”

  “I also know who Neil deGrasse Tyson is, and I listen to TED Talks for fun.” She grinned before popping a fork full of saucy food into her mouth.

  Craig wasn’t a betting man, but at that moment, he would easily bet the contents of his daily bank account that he was gazing into the eyes of the mother of his future children. At least if he had anything to do about it. And he might be willing to risk any of the other accounts, funds, and CDs, but not the bonds.

  Craig watched Lysia chew. “Miranda is the type of woman who doesn’t know that Superman started off in comics. She knows shoe designers, celebrities who have never done anything, and reality television.”

  “And you were with her why?”

  “I’m a man, and sometimes we don’t think so straight when beautiful women are willing to let us touch their naked bodies.”

  “Ah, that explains some of it, but after a while wouldn’t blood return to the brain, so you could process properly again.” Lysia pointed at her head.

  “By then I thought she was in love with me. She had said it, I had said it. We had taken a few long weekends up here, talked about having a future together. She seemed to like my plan for this being the kind of place to raise a family. She started dropping hints on the ideal ring and the ideal proposal. She had a Pinterest board of all things wedding. I thought she was planning a future with me. I was totally game. I sold off some shares. I began to downsize the projects I took on. I started taking the classes I would need to get my teacher’s certificate. I coordinated the perfect proposal.”

  Lysia coughed as she choked on her food.

  “You okay?” Craig asked, ready to leap across the table and administer the Heimlich if necessary. All of his attention was on her reactions. When she nodded and took a sip of water, relief rolled over him like a cool wave. Revealing this humiliating part of his past usually stirred up some dark demons of self-loathing, but right now he just wanted to know that Lysia was all right.

  Lysia cleared her throat. “Tell me about this perfect proposal.”

  “Honestly, you’ve probably already seen it. Some poor schmuck with an elaborate flash mob of dancers, and at the end the girl says no. One of the assistants to the photographer I hired to film it put it up on the internet. I sued him, but the damage had been done. Of course, it went viral. I didn’t get to keep my abject humiliation to myself and the forty dancers I had hired. It still makes the rounds every few months. That photographer’s assistant probably makes more money from the views on that one video than he had to pay me in damages.”

  “Ouch. If you were in love, why did she say no?”

  “The proposal was perfect, but I was not. I gave up what she thought was my source of income. I was no longer able to keep her in the lifestyle she thought she deserved. This was, of course, all because I told her I wouldn’t buy her a Mercedes. She thought I was bankrupting myself so we could move up here and didn’t want to be married to a history teacher. She didn’t love me. She loved what my money could do.”

  Their plates were taken away. The waiter asked if they were interested in dessert. When Lysia’s eyes widened at the list, Craig ordered a crème brulée and cheesecake and another bottle of the wine.

  “You moved up here anyway? Even though…” Lysia waved her fork as if to indicate the mess with Miranda.

  He nodded. “Yeah, why not? It has always been a life goal of mine. I was in a position to do it. I was already working on my teaching credentials, so once I finished those, I packed up and moved. The high school had an opening for a History teacher at the beginning of the next school year, and two years later I’m boring you with all of this.”

  Lysia smiled. It warmed body parts on him. “Not boring at all. Makes my breakup seem less traumatic.”

  “You recently broke up?” Craig asked.

  “Yesterday was a shitty day. I got fired, and I got dumped. But I have survived.”

  Craig held up his class. “To surviving exes. May they make us better people.”

  Lysia lifted her glass to his and let them touch with a quiet clink.

  “Moving up here, was it everything you hoped for, or a terrible mistake?” Lysia asked before taking the last sip of wine from her glass.

  “Better than imagined.”

  Craig paid and led her out to his car. The ride back to her cottage was too short, and before he realized it, he was out of the car and opening the passenger door for her.

  She stood entirely too close for his body not to react. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss her. He wanted to slide her back into his car and show off his house, his bedroom, his 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Instead, he stepped back, giving her space.

  Lysia stepped closer. She slipped her finger around his tie.

  “I never asked you if you went and got that tux fitted.” Was she batting her eyelashes at him? God, those eyes.

  Craig swallowed and felt a squirm wanting to crawl up his spine. “Yeah, but it wasn’t as much fun without you there.”

  He leaned over and slid his lips across hers. His brain sighed, his heart skipped, his balls tightened and picked out color chips in assorted shades of blue.

  Lysia wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. Craig noticed everything about her, her taste, her smell, her warmth. And he noticed nothing at all because his lips were pressed to hers, and it was heaven.

  Lysia dropped out of his embrace, ending the kiss. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

  “I did, too. Are you still going to let me help you with your resumé tomorrow?” Craig slid an arm around her back and pulled her in close. She leaned against him, all long body and soft spots and warmth.

  She nodded.

  “Want me to pick you up?”

  She nodded again.

  “Eleven?”

  Lysia continued to nod.

  “Are you going to say anything before I leave?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Kiss me again.”

  ***

  Lysia decided to drive herself in the morning. She had too many things she had agreed to do this afternoon when all she really wanted was to head over to Craig’s and make out on his couch.

  She shoved a binder of her work history notes and past resumes behind the headless torso that occupied her passenger seat. She was going to have to drop off all these mannequins soon. Patrice hadn’t had a place for her to put them before, and well, since she didn
’t work for Patrice anymore, they weren’t her problem, and she wanted them out of her car.

  Lysia pulled onto Craig’s street. She slowed down and let her mouth fall open. She loved this part of town, the houses were big and old, and well taken care of, the holiday decorations beautiful. Not one single inflatable Santa or snowman in sight. While those were fun, they didn’t fit the historic nature of the homes on this street.

  She hadn’t made the connection that it was this street when Craig gave her his address. Her car crawled passed the homes, all turn of the century or older. Turn of the last century. Her car stopped its snail’s pace in front of Craig’s address.

  “Whoa.” The house was a larger than she’d expected. All wood and dark green, it was a textbook example of American Craftsman architecture.

  She took a deep breath and inched forward. She wanted to take a look at the painted Victorians on the cul-de-sac in the next block before parking her clunker in his driveway.

  Lysia loved these homes. At least once a month she would cruise through here and dream. Were they as beautiful on the inside as they were on the outside? Did the people who live in them feel as lucky as she thought they were?

  She waved as one of the homeowners looked up from working in her yard. It seemed the least Lysia could do since she was so clearly admiring the houses. What Lysia needed to do was make sure next year she wasn’t scheduled to work the same day as the Historic Homes Tour. She wanted to see the insides.

  Her old Toyota rattled to a stop. It felt out of place behind Craig’s pricey car, and next to such a beautiful house. She hadn’t given his car a thought last night, her nerves too jangled from being on a nice date with him. Maybe she had noticed the almost silent ride of the electric car. Maybe she had noticed that it had the exceptional comfort of a luxury vehicle. Maybe, but she didn’t remember. Big house, check, expensive Tesla in the driveway, double check.

  Butterflies flipped in her gut as she climbed the wide stairs to the deep porch. She checked the bandage over Mount St. Helens that continued to erupt on her chin. The zit from hell was not abating. She hoped it didn’t turn Craig off too much, she was hoping for more of his kisses today. The front of his house and his porch weren’t overly decorated, but cleanly situated for the holidays. A wreath with a large bow hung on the door. A tree sparkled in the big front window. The porch had the right combination of furniture and planters to suggest someone paid attention to the front of the house. Lysia’s stomach lurched. Damn, maybe he did have a girlfriend. He hadn’t seemed the type to do this on his own.

  But he had given her a princess foot-lift quality kiss last night, and he was definitely not the kind of guy to kiss a girl if he was in a relationship with someone else. She just knew it in her gut. He wasn’t that kind of guy. He wasn’t a Josh.

  Craig opened the front door, and Lysia’s stomach did another backflip. They said hi and shuffled awkwardly, uncertain if they should hug or what. In the end, Craig stood back and let her in.

  She followed him into an entryway of dark polished wood and walls that were patched but in need of paint.

  “We’ll work in here,” he said as she followed him through the living room. His tree was one of those pre-lighted fake ones. It sparkled nicely, but no ornaments hung on it. The furniture coordinated patterns and colors and featured an overstuffed floral couch about twenty years out of date and a large screen TV. They continued into a large room set up as a home office. Several computer monitors took over a desk in the middle of the room like a command center for a spaceship. And as far as she could tell, it was the only room that didn’t appear furnished with hand-me-downs.

  Lysia set her binder on the corner of his desk. This was geek space. Posters and figurines lined the walls. She approved of his fandoms.

  “I was just about to make some grilled cheese sandwiches. Want one?”

  “Yeah. Who is your decorator?” Lysia asked as he lead her to another well-situated room into the large, somewhat modern kitchen. “I love your house. It’s—”“

  “Big,” Craig finished for her.

  “I was going to say beautiful.” Miranda had been an idiot. Craig had money, and plenty of it. One did not buy a house like this on a high school teacher’s salary.

  “The point was to buy a family home. This seemed ideal.”

  “It is.” She hadn’t meant to sigh, but the house was perfect.

  “Thanks. I like it. It still needs work. My sister is supposed to be my designer. She has a real eye for color and layout, and she’s good with spending my money. And even better at not doing anything.”

  “Older or younger?”

  “Younger. When she’s not at school, she splits her time between here and home. She even has a room upstairs.”

  He handed Lysia a plate with a perfectly browned, gooey, grilled cheese sandwich.

  “C’mon, I’ll show you around.” He pulled a piece of his sandwich apart, shoved it into his mouth, and headed out a different door than the one they had entered.

  Back stairs. This house had back stairs. Lysia died inside a little. She would never be able to live in a house like this, not the way her life was turning out.

  The upstairs hallway was wide, nothing like the narrow halls of any house she had ever lived in. Craig led her to a room at the far end of the hall and opened the door onto a fantasy child’s room. All bright yellow, feminine, and fairy tale. The bookcase in the corner melded into a tree that had branches winding into the ceiling and painted on the walls.

  “This is Kash’s room.”

  “Whoa, how much younger is she?”

  Craig chuckled. “The tree was already there. Kash decided to turn this into the bedroom she never had. It’s the only bedroom that’s finished.”

  He pointed to another room as they proceeded down the hallway. “That’s the guest room. It’s got a bed. These other rooms are empty.”

  He opened the door to a porcelain dream bathroom, all white and blue tile, with a claw foot tub. Gorgeous. “This is the original bathroom for upstairs. The family I bought from had restored the bathrooms and kitchen but left the rest of the house for the new owner to deal with. I had one of the rooms converted, added a bathroom and a walk-in closet to create a master suite. I like having my own bathroom.” Craig opened another door onto yet another bedroom. This room was large and had a sleeping porch extending off the back of the house.

  Lysia, overcome with shyness, bit her lips and blinked up at Craig. This was a nice room, even if it had unmatched furniture and needed paint. She could imagine doing nice things with him on that overly large bed. Of course, his bed would be big—he was tall. Probably custom made.

  She spun and scurried into the hallway, nothing but nerves. “You know what this place is missing?” her words rushed out. Me. But she didn’t say that out loud.

  She thought she heard him mutter “a family,” but he covered up whatever he’d said. “Besides a lot of paint and furniture?”

  “You need a dog. So it’s not just you rattling around in this big place.”

  They had taken the front stairs back to his office. Lysia finished her sandwich and set the plate on a side table.

  “I’m not here to keep a dog company. It would get lonely while I’m at school.” His face softened at the thought. It was a nice look on him.

  Craig indicated a chair for her to sit next to him at the desk.

  “I’m headed over to the rescue after this. You should come with me.”

  “Let’s see how far we get on this resumé first.”

  ***

  He groaned as Lysia handed him the binder and not a computer file with a preexisting typed resumé. Did this woman not know how to assemble a job history? He pushed his glasses back up.

  He flipped through her notes, searching for a common thread in what she did for work, but there was no pattern. Dress shop assistant. Restaurant worker doing anything from waitressing to dishwashing. Fill-in cook. She’d even held a job at one of the last video rental stor
es. The only consistent thing he could detect was that she stayed with each job for at least two years.

  She had two years of a Liberal Arts degree. He didn’t know what to do with that.

  “Why did you work at these places?” he asked as he flipped through various, and pointless, letters of recommendation.

  Lysia shuffled the papers in the binder. “I worked at Josie’s because Patrice initially told me I could put the displays together. I worked at the cafe because they needed someone to design menus and signs. I was a wiz at that chalkboard menu.”

  “And the video place?”

  “I got to do fancy whiteboard signs.”

  “Any computer skills?”

  She shook her head, and he could no longer focus. She did a little bit of everything, except for computers, and he couldn’t figure out what to do for her because all he wanted was kiss her again.

  “Let’s move this to the couch. We’ll be more comfortable and can spread out on the coffee table. More open to creative thought.” He stood and hoped she would follow.

  “I have a better idea,” she said, taking the binder out of his hands. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. His toes went numb.

  “The couch. But not so we can spread out my paperwork,” she murmured against his mouth. She grabbed his hand and led him to the old couch his mom had given him. He followed Lysia down into the cushions. She looped her hand around his neck, removed his glasses, and pulled him over as she leaned back.

  “I like your way of thinking,” he managed as she nibbled at his lips.

  Her legs twisted with his as they lay next to each other on the couch. His hands tangled in her hair, and she dug her fingers into his back. Her lips were soft and pulled at him.