From the Moment We Met (19 page)

“You’ll have to get a permit to hold a class here,” Abby said apologetically.

The ladies exchanged glances, but it was Shirley who spoke up. “We were told Richard was supposed to be moved. But yesterday I was in the neighborhood and saw he was still here. So I figured it was a sign the universe had sent me something other than a fruit bowl, something to challenge and stir my creativity, so I called the ladies.”

“And we went guerilla-style on art,” Mrs. Rose said, her eyes lit with excitement. “You know, no permits, no watercolors, no blending brushes, just our easels, charcoal, and the naked form.”

“It was either him or another fruit bowl,” Shirley explained, and Abby wondered if fruit bowls were the sketcher’s equivalent to nurseries or doggie habitats. “And I’m ready to sketch a new kind of plums and banana.”

“No permit means you don’t have approval of the GN,” Abby said, then cringed because—
listen to that
—she sounded just like Know It All Nora.

She held up her hand in apology. “You know what? Never mind. Have fun painting, ladies.”

“You’re going to let us stay?” Shirley asked, her black-penciled brows disappearing into her hairline.

Abby just shrugged. “I know what it’s like to draw the same fruit bowl. As long as you are gone by sunset, I say paint away.”

By the time Abby made it into her house, she’d had enough hugs and cheek pinches to last her a decade. Dropping the cream puffs in the refrigerator and her gold bag on the bed, she searched through her closet for one of “those little shirts” Tanner seemed to like so much.

Pressed for time, she settled on a deep scoop-neck tank top and her new bra—the panties would have to wait until next time, since she wasn’t sure if she was that bold—and went downstairs to prepare for her first student of the night.

She was just setting out the sheet music when her five o’clock knocked at the door. When she opened it, instead of greeting a four-foot-tall kid with freckles and a Kool-Aid mustache, she found herself staring up at six and a half feet of the best dessert ever.

Fully equipped and licensed to rock her foundation, Tanner rested a hip against her porch rail, that easy smile of his ready to demolish any last hesitations she harbored.

“Well, no wonder you didn’t want to paint with us,” Mrs. Rose hollered from the grass. “Seems you got a live one there.”

“They told me I couldn’t pass until I showed a little skin,” Tanner explained, and Abby laughed.

“Well, did you?”

“No, I outran them,” he explained. “Although there was a moment where I thought Mrs. Rose was going to bring out her guns.”

“I still might unless you give us a little shimmy. I’ve got a hundred bucks riding on you being the real deal, Hard Hammer Tanner,” Mrs. Rose said, and the tips of Tanner’s ears went pink. “Peg here thinks those pictures of you in your birthday suit were enhanced.”

Abby crossed her arms. “Seems like a pretty serious allegation to me. I think you better take care of it.”

“Is that right?” And boom, a smile that said he was more than up to the challenge spread across his face and both of those dimples came into play. “Tell me. What did you have in mind?”

Oh, Abby had many things in mind. Some ranked higher on her list than others, but unfortunately, none of them included an audience, so she tapped a finger to her chin, taking her sweet time to make him sweat a little. Only Tanner never sweat, he just stood there perfectly at ease.

“All right, take off the shirt and show us the goods,” she said and gestured for him to turn around and—
oh my
—the show was just beginning.

Eyes locked on hers, Tanner grabbed the back of his shirt with one hand and pulled it up and over his head, exposing yards and yards of tan skin, sculpted muscles, and enough testosterone to have Abby sweating. With a cocky wink that said
Got ya
, he turned around to face the ladies, then gave a little shimmy when his back was once again to the crowd.

The ladies gave an elated clap and a few dreamy sighs before fanning themselves. Abby was doing a little fanning of her own when Tanner flashed the most self-conscious smile she’d ever seen him wear.

Huh, between the ladies making his ears go pink and this smile, it seemed the man wasn’t totally unflappable.

“I’m sorry, Peg, but I think Mrs. Rose won this one. Tanner is one hundred percent real,” Abby said, and she wasn’t just talking about his fine-tuned and carefully honed body. Tanner might be a little too charming, a little too flirty, and a whole lot too tempting for Abby’s well-being, but the more time she spent with him, the more Abby began to realize there wasn’t anything fake about Jack Tanner.

“Tightest tush in the NFL,” Mrs. Rose declared. “Now, pay up!”

While the women argued about who owed what, Tanner walked to the doormat, and instead of tugging his shirt on, he tucked it in his back pocket.

“Aren’t you going to put your shirt back on?” Abby asked his chest. The well-muscled, too-impressive-not-to-stare chest that was gloriously tan and slick with summer heat.

“Nope. You going to take yours off?” His eyes took a slow journey all the way south, which meant he still hadn’t made up his mind where to start. Or maybe he had and he wanted a little reminder to make sure he’d chosen well. Either way, his blatantly male appreciation caused every cell in her body to go into party mode. Even her nipples popped their corks. His grin said he noticed. “Or you want to talk about the little shopping spree you did earlier today?”

“Shopping?” Her face heated. Did he know she bought a pair of home team panties? And if so, would he be disappointed she hadn’t put them on?

“I was talking about getting Babs to finally sign off on the hardware, flooring, and counter.” Tanner held up an order slip from Valley Textiles. “But judging by the look on your face, it seems you had a different kind of shopping in mind.”

Abby skipped right over that one, and in one smooth move, she grabbed the shirt from his back pocket and pressed it to his chest. Then focused really hard on the order slip, and even harder on not watching him get dressed.

“Great, Valley Textiles got the order placed. I was afraid we’d missed the cutoff for today.”

“They even put a rush on it. Free of charge. Tom doesn’t even do rush orders for me, extra cost or not.”

Abby shrugged. “Tom’s son, Kyle, takes piano from me.”

Tanner stepped forward, resting his palms on the top of the doorframe, not coming in the house but invading her space all the same. “I know, I remember him from the last recital. He’s one of your favorites.”

He was also one of the first students she’d taken on when she’d moved back to St. Helena. And over the last two years he had gone from a shy little boy who cried at the thought of playing in front of a crowd to a proficient pianist who played every Sunday at church.

“I don’t have favorites.” She smiled. “I love all of my students the same.”

He leaned in even farther, the movement causing his arm muscles to bunch and his shirt to pull taut across his chest. He tilted his head until she could smell the sawdust on his clothes and feel his lips brush her cheek. “Liar.”

“Why are you here”—she gave his stomach a little shove and, after he flexed for her gripping pleasure, moved back enough so she could breathe without her body going into meltdown—“a whole two hours early?”

“To tell you your guy Carlos is perfect for the job and, more importantly, he can start right away.” That was exactly the kind of news she needed to hear. “He’s meeting me at the shop in an hour to look at the electrical panel in person so he can figure out what he needs to order.”

“That’s great. Does he think he’ll be done in time for you guys to finish the wiring?”

“We’re going to run all of the wires and take care of the outlets this week while he refits the panel. He thinks he can be done by Thursday, so we have Friday morning to get the chillers in and finish up. He won’t know for sure until he gets here, but he sounded optimistic.”

Tanner’s smile faded and a weird feeling started in the pit of Abby’s belly.

“Why do I feel like there is a big
but
coming?”

“Because he said he’d need at least three or four hours tonight to get a feel for the project and understand the way the original electrician wired the place, which means—”

“You have to cancel our lesson,” Abby said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

“Date,” Tanner clarified, sounding disappointed himself. “And not cancel, postpone. I was thinking Saturday. That way the inspection is over.”

“Saturday? That’s four days away.” Her body couldn’t last four whole days. Especially not when those days would be spent working in close proximity while he hauled two-by-fours, lifted pipes with those big arms, and handled everything in the factory—but her.

“I know, trust me,” Tanner said, his eyes dropping to her strategically selected top. “But with everything left to do, just getting the place ready by Friday will be crazy.” His gaze locked on hers, hot and hungry, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure she could wait. “You drive me crazy.”

“You came here to tell me I drive you crazy?”

God, she hoped not. She drove her brothers crazy, her grandmother crazy, her neighbors crazy. The last person she wanted to drive crazy was the first potential date she’d had since college.

“No, I came here to tell you it’s five o’clock.” He stepped into her, his good parts crowding all hers, forcing her into the house. He kicked the door shut, and before she could register what was happening, his hands were in her hair and his mouth, oh God, that mouth, was on hers. And Abby knew she was in trouble.

Serious trouble.

Because Tanner was wrong—this wasn’t crazy. It was beyond all reason. The heat generated by a single kiss was damn near combustible. Because just like that, with one taste, her brain clocked out.

She didn’t move, except to run her palms up under his shirt to explore those abs for herself. She felt him shiver under her touch and there was something so sexy about that. About the way his body wrapped tighter around hers, about how his hands spanned the width of her back to pull her closer.

Closer was good. Closer made her feel treasured and sexy and safe, three things she hadn’t felt in a long time. Three things she didn’t want to stop feeling. Ever.

When a knock sounded at the door, he reluctantly pulled back. They were both still breathing heavy when he said, “Screw Saturday. Let’s make it Thursday. That’s only two days. We can make it two days, right?”

“I think so,” she whispered, although after that kiss she wasn’t feeling so sure.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“What if Carlos doesn’t finish in time?” she asked, hoping two days was enough time to get up the courage to put on the red panties.

“He’ll be done.” His gaze dropped to her neckline and he smiled. “I’ll leave dessert up to you.”

CHAPTER 13

I
didn’t know this much raw land existed in St. Helena,” Abby said, standing near Tanner’s truck, staring out at the hundreds of acres of gently rolling fields covered in bright orange poppies and giant oak trees. The scent of dry grass and grapes from a few wild vines growing nearby permeated the air as their purple fruit swayed gently in the early evening breeze.

It was beautifully serene and she should have felt calm, at peace even, but after two torturous days of waiting for this moment, her body was vibrating with anticipation. She inhaled deeply and eyed Tanner out of the corner of her eye, trying to force herself to stay here, in the present with him.

“Technically we’re just outside the city limits, but it is still zoned for St. Helena schools and utilities.”

Which would be an important selling point if Tanner Construction built homes up here. St. Helena wasn’t just known for its wine, but also its education system.

The top selling point
, Abby thought as she walked around the front of the truck to look over the edge of the mountain,
would be the view
. That alone was worth whatever millions he’d paid for this land.

“I can see the entire valley from up here,” Abby said, not surprised by the awe in her voice. They were so high above the valley floor it looked like one huge vineyard of bright green vines and yellow mustard weed spanning for miles.

“Over there is Calistoga.” Before she could turn to look, Tanner slid one arm around her waist, effortlessly pulling her back to his front. She’d been dying to touch him since he’d pulled up in his truck looking delicious in a pair of butt-loving jeans and a blue button-up rolled to the elbows. He also had on a ball cap, red, well-loved, and pulled low. “On a clear day you can see all the way to Napa.”

Abby couldn’t see anything past his big, bulging arm, which was flexed and rippled as he pointed toward the towns he was naming. She also had a hard time focusing on what he was saying because his fingers, the ever-so-capable fingers of his other arm, were sliding back and forth across her stomach, reminding her of just how gentle her giant could be.

“In the summer, I come up here in the early morning to watch the sunrise and hot air balloons take off, but man,” he said, and she could hear the love in his voice for this land. “During the winter we’re so high up I can see the storms rolling in from the north.”

“How long have you owned this property?”

She felt him shrug, then he leaned back against the grill of his truck, pulling her with him until all she felt was heat. Heat from the grill of this truck, heat from the sweltering summer day, both of which had nothing on the heat from being encased by that much solid man. “I bought it with my first signing bonus.”

Abby craned her head to look up at him. “You made enough with one signing bonus to buy all of this?” He nodded. “Huh. I should have gone into football.”

Smiling, he laced their fingers. “Nah, your hands are too small. Plus, all the guys would spend the whole game trying to tackle you just so they could cop a feel.” She elbowed him and may have snorted. “What? I spend all day waiting for you to walk by in those heels, swishing your hips, and hoping you’ll have to climb a ladder for some reason so I’ll have an excuse to touch you.” He leaned in, just a little, and his lips brushed her ear. “Your rules are very difficult to follow.”

She hated her rules. At least a dozen times a day she considered doing away with them completely.

Between the sexy winks and “coincidentally” sharing the same two square feet of space every time she needed to measure something, Tanner had managed to keep her hormones in a constant frenzy. But just when she was about ready to give in, she’d watch him lift a heavy copper pipe over his head, watch the play of his muscles bunch and tense, and know without the rules they’d end up naked—in the bottlery.

A state her body was hoping to get to sooner rather than later since he hadn’t so much as kissed her since that five o’clock whistle blew two days ago.

“Show me what you’re going to do with the property,” she asked, taking his hand and leading him farther into the field. Maybe her sundress and strappy sandals hadn’t been the wisest choice, she thought as the dandelions brushed her bare legs and she nearly broke her ankle navigating the gopher holes in five-inch heels.

Always the gentleman, Tanner slowed his pace and wrapped her hand around his forearm for balance. “What do you want to know?”

“Like where are you going to build your house?”

“The residential development will cover the entire north side, from that row of oak trees all the way back to the pine trees.”

“That’s a lot of land.”

“Ferris wants to build a lot of houses. About three hundred semicustom when all is said and done.”

Abby wondered how many homes Tanner wanted to build, and how the guy who’d started his company on the grounds of handcrafted luxury felt about the term
semicustom
, but he was already moving on.

“Up on the bluff over there is where the clubhouse and pro shop will go. And right here, where we’re standing”—he bounced on the balls of his feet a few times for effect—“this will be the eighteenth hole.”

“Huh.” Abby looked around at what he’d just explained, then back to him. “Where would you have put the clubhouse?”

“Nestled in the pine trees to give it more of a rustic, natural feel so it works with the landscape and surroundings instead of against it.”

No hesitation, no second guesses. Why would he agree to build it somewhere else?

“But Ferris says the clubhouse should overlook the entire course.”
Ah, Ferris.
“It should make a statement about the design of the course and community. So the bluff it is.”

Abby had a statement in her front yard. It was intrusive, pretentious, and nothing more than a sculpted stroke to the ego. She imagined Ferris’s clubhouse would have the same effect here.

Before Abby could ask if Tanner had mentioned his ideas to Ferris, his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and smiled. It was real and warm and so boyishly sweet, it was adorable—and in complete contrast to the smile he’d worn when talking about the three hundred semicustom homes.

“Come here.” Taking her hand, he led her back to the truck and dropped the tailgate. Hands firmly around her waist, his fingers taking a little detour over her bottom, he set her up on the lift, giving one last look before he disappeared into the cab.

When he reemerged, he was holding two tumblers and a bottle of wine.

“What’s that for?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“But you don’t like wine.” Tanner was a beer guy, straight up. If you couldn’t hold it by the neck and take a swig in public without breaking any social codes, then he wasn’t into it.

“But you do.” He set the glasses on the tailgate and, after popping the cork, poured each glass a quarter full. “Ben just texted and we are all set to pass inspection tomorrow.”

He handed her a glass, then held up his own in salute.

“It’s really happening,” she said quietly. It was actually coming together, and Abby couldn’t believe it.

That she’d landed the job had been a miracle on its own. That they’d managed to get the entire factory rewired and fitted with all new plumbing in just under sixty hours was incredible. And a testament to just how hard Tanner had worked, and just how good he was at his job.

Now, she was going to work on a project that could change everything for her. A project that would say something about the kind of designer she was. The kind of person she was.

Tapping his glass, she took a sip of wine, her heart racing with excitement and something that felt oddly like pride. An emotion she hadn’t experienced in a long time. An emotion Tanner had helped facilitate.

“Thank you, Jack. I know how hard you and your crew worked to get ready in time, and I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“It worked out.” He gave a self-conscious tug at the brim of his hat, turning it around, and Abby found her heart racing for a whole different reason. Tanner could wear a hat like nobody’s business. But when he tugged it backward so she could see the faint hint of vulnerability tinting his cheeks, she was surprised a guy like that could get so undone by a simple compliment.

Almost as surprising as the realization they were drinking Ryo wine. Abby and ChiChi’s wine was presold years in advance to high-end restaurants and specialty wine shops around the country, making it expensive and extremely hard to come by. That he had a bottle was sweet, and flattering.

“So your plan was to bring me up here and charm me with the beautiful views and my own wine?”

“Nope.” Without another word, he just flashed her that fantasy-inducing grin of his, the one that was kind of crooked and promised everything Abby was too scared to ask for, and moved in.

Two strides and he was wedged between her legs. But instead of touching her, he rested his hands on the tailgate, effectively caging her in, the smell of his aftershave mingling with that sexy rugged man thing he had going on.

“I brought you here to show you my favorite place on earth and get you drunk. And since I know jack shit about wine, I went with yours, since I know you would never put your name on something you didn’t love.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “Plus you get handsy when you’re drunk. So bottoms up.”

He tipped his hand in silent gesture.

With a helpless laugh, she tipped her glass back and emptied it. The deep liquid warmed her throat as it went down, and the way Tanner stared at her mouth, watching her drink every last drop, warmed . . . well, everything else.

“Too bad you don’t like wine.” She licked her lips. “This is great.”

“Maybe I’ve been too harsh in my assessment.” But instead of taking his glass, he took her mouth in one hell of a searing kiss. His hands stayed on the tailgate and the only part of them touching was their lips—which was beyond erotic.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Sweet, bold, definitely full-bodied.” He pulled back slightly and waggled a brow. “And sexy.”

“You mean, spicy?”

“Let me have another taste.” And taste he did. He tasted her until she had no other choice but to taste him right back and—
sweet baby Jesus
—he tasted incredible. And had her body flushing hotter than if she’d downed the entire bottle of wine.

When they came up for air, his cap was on the ground, her legs were tight around his waist, and she was leaning back on the bed of the truck with 250 pounds of badassed male pressed against her, running his big hands everywhere he felt bare skin. “Nope, sexy.”

With a final smack to her lips, Tanner straightened, collected his hat, and sat next to her, the truck sagging a little under his weight.

“Are we stopping?” she asked, still leaning back on her elbows.

“Just slowing down,” he said, his eyes glued to her lips. “Savoring.”

Abby sat up, her feet dangling by the license plate, and smoothed down her hair. Picking off a stray metal washer that had stuck to her elbow, she tossed it in the air and caught it. Balancing it between her thumb and forefinger, she looked at her empty tumbler between them, judged the perfect distance, and bounced it off the bed of the truck—

Ping
.

—right into the tumbler landing with a solid clink.

Tanner looked her way and smiled. “You’ve still got it.”

“Yes, I do.” Abby eyed the washer sitting in the bottom of the tumbler and smiled back.

In high school they used to hide in her parents’ wine cave and play Bullshit with beer he’d sneak from his dad’s fridge, a game of quarters meets truth or dare, where every sink in the glass earned the shooter a question of their choosing.

She pulled back the washer and launched it again.

Ping.

Clink.

Her smile hurt it was so big, and Tanner let out a laugh. “Darling, Bullshit requires me to slam a beer every time you think I’m lying. And since I’m driving home, that isn’t happening.”

And if Abby called bullshit on his answer, and it was indeed the truth, she’d be the one to have to chug.

“Then I guess there won’t be any lying.” Abby was not backing down. There were answers to questions she’d been waiting since senior year to hear, and she wasn’t letting this moment slip by. But she’d start with an easy one.

She picked up the washer and dried it off on her leg. “Tell me why a guy who hates wine wants to be the go-to guy for wine caves in the valley.”

“Because I like to blow stuff up.” Tanner sat up and snatched the washer. Concentration had him closing one eye as he weighed the washer. “Plus, I fell in love with a girl in a wine cave, so I have a good association with them.”

Abby’s heart stopped—so fast she couldn’t breathe. When she and Tanner had made love for the first time in that wine cave, she’d felt a connection unlike anything she’d ever known. Like she’d somehow managed to find a safe haven in the aftermath of her parents’ death. And she’d been sure Tanner had felt it too, that his entire world had changed with hers. Only he’d never called. Never given her any indication what happened that night was mutual.

Until now.

“Jack, about that—”

Ping.

Clink.

“Ah, one question per sink. And since I just sunk it . . . that makes it my turn.”

Oh boy.
Asking him questions was one thing. His turning the tables on her? This could get real. And fast.

As though wanting to make her sweat—which she already was—Tanner leaned back against the wall opposite her, taking his time to get comfortable, his long legs stretched out in front and crossed at the ankle. He scooted the tumbler to the middle of the truck bed, then leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Where would you build my house?”

That was not the question Abby expected. And from the look on his face, it was not the one he’d intended to ask. But she was happy he had.

“Right here. Where Ferris plans to put the eighteenth hole.”

He didn’t move, didn’t give anything away, but Abby knew her answer had fazed him.