Something in the Wine (34 page)

“Annie?”

When Annie looked up, she realized Jonathan was holding the door open for her. “Oh. Thanks.” With one final glance back to the parking lot, she stepped past Jonathan.

* * *

Drew stood stock-still in the middle of her bedroom and looked at the bow that rested next to the quiver on her bed. In the past, taking out her bow and focusing just on hitting the target had always helped her to forget about her troubles. But since her mother’s death, just looking at the bow had hurt. Now she looked at the worn grip of her bow and the feathered arrows and felt a tingle of anticipation.

Okay, let’s try this.
Maybe it would help her forget about Annie and their moment in the fitting room for a while. She attached the quiver to her belt and picked up the bow.

When she left the house, Martin was crossing the yard. He walked over, his gaze fixed on the bow in her hands. “Going out for some target practice?” he asked as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Drew nodded. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

Their gazes met and held.

The lines on Martin’s tan face deepened as he smiled. He clapped her shoulder with his work-roughened hand. “That girl, Annie, she’s really good for you. Your mother would have liked her.”

Drew swallowed. What wouldn’t she give to be able to introduce Annie to her parents and have her experience a warm family interaction. “I think so too. But she’s a woman, not a girl. And she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Didn’t say she was.” He winked at her. “Not yet.” Martin patted her shoulder again, then pulled his baseball cap more deeply over his face, and walked away, whistling.

Drew fondly shook her head and watched him go. When he had disappeared around the corner, she headed toward the field behind the barn.

* * *

What am I doing here?
Annie sat in front of Drew’s house, her car’s engine idling. Instead of getting out and knocking on the door, she stayed in the car and drummed a staccato beat on the steering wheel with her fingers.

It was the day before Thanksgiving, so this was her last chance to talk to Drew.

There’s nothing to talk about.

But Annie knew that was a lie. There
was
a lot to talk about, but Annie wasn’t ready. Still, she couldn’t stay away. She had paced her apartment, always returning to the phone. But even though the phone would have afforded her a safe distance, she knew doing this by phone wasn’t right, so she had driven over to talk to Drew. But what was she supposed to say?
I can’t stop thinking about you?

She imagined Drew staring at her. “Annie,” Drew would say, “you’re a wonderful woman, but I don’t think of you that way.”

God, that would be embarrassing.
Annie had never risked humiliation like that. But would Drew really say that? The look in her eyes when their gazes met in the fitting room mirror made Annie think otherwise.
What will you do if she thinks about you “that way” too? Could you have a relationship with a woman—with all the repercussions?

Annie pinched her nose. She was making herself crazy with all the what-ifs. Part of her wanted her safe, uneventful life back—the one she’d had before meeting Drew. The other part felt alive, really alive, for the first time in her life.

And that scared her even more. Before, her emotions had been safe and controllable. She had always thought of herself as a reserved person, not very passionate, romantic, or sexual. Now all the assumptions she had made about herself were no longer true. With Drew, she had lost all control of her body and her emotions.

She shook her head.
Just keep your mouth shut. No one will ever need to know. Now get out of here before Drew sees you.
She put the car in reverse and prepared to back out of the driveway.

A knock on the car window next to her made Annie jump. She whirled around.

One of Drew’s employees stood next to the car, and after a second, Annie remembered his name: Martin Salerno. He waved at her and gestured for her to roll down the window.

Annie did.

“If you’re looking for Drew, she’s behind that barn over there.” He pointed to one of the buildings.

“Thank you,” Annie said and forced a smile. Inwardly, she grimaced.
Damn.
Now she couldn’t just leave. He would probably tell Drew she had been here, and then Drew would wonder why she had driven all the way to the vineyard and left without talking to her.

Sighing, she turned off the car and sat in the deafening silence. Seconds ticked by. Finally, she touched the moonstone in her pocket, an annoying habit she had developed in the last week, and got out of the car.

She had expected to find Drew elbow-deep in vines, grapes, or some other work-related activity. But when she rounded the corner, Drew stood with a bow at the edge of a field, a quiver full of arrows strapped to her hip.

Annie paused to watch her undetected.

With fluent, unhurried movements, Drew nocked one arrow, raised the bow, and drew back the string. Her face was relaxed and focused at the same time. Nothing seemed to exist for her but the target on the other side of the field.

Annie couldn’t take her gaze off Drew.

When the fingers of Drew’s right hand grazed her cheek, she released the string.

The arrow streaked across the field.

With a thud, it hit the golden center of the target.

“Wow.” Joy rushed through Annie. She knew that hitting the target meant more to Drew than just being good at a sport. Drew had been scared that she had forever lost the skills her mother had taught her.

At the sound of Annie’s voice, Drew lowered her arm with the bow and turned. Her lips curled into a welcoming smile. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Annie didn’t know what else to say. She struggled to find the right words—or any words at all. “Um ... Martin told me where to find you.” Her gaze flickered away from Drew and to the target. “You’re hitting the target. You’ve got it back, everything your mother taught you.”

“Yeah.” Drew exhaled and grinned. She radiated happiness. “This time when I touched the bow, it felt like coming home. Guess I just needed some time, like you said.”

“I’m really happy for you.” Despite her resolve not to touch Drew, Annie squeezed Drew’s forearm. Her fingers wrapped around the leather bracer.

After a moment, Drew put her free hand on top of Annie’s.

They stood there, not speaking, just communicating by touch, until finally, Drew was the one to shift and break the contact between them. “Want to try?” She glanced down and lifted the bow.

“What? Me?” Annie shook her head and stepped back. “Oh, no, that’s not a good idea. I’m such a klutz. I’d probably end up shooting someone.”

Drew closed the distance between them. “What did I tell you? No negative assumptions about yourself. Just try it once. Can’t be any worse than my first attempt.”

“What happened?” Annie asked. She couldn’t imagine calm, confident Drew fumbling around with the bow and arrow.

“Somehow, the arrow fell at my feet. My mother tried so hard not to laugh that she looked like she had a facial tic.” Drew chuckled.

Annie smiled back. “How old were you?”

“Ten,” Drew said. “Come on. Try it.”

A slow breath escaped Annie.
Can’t hurt, right?
She straightened. “What do I do?”

“First, you put on the arm guard,” Drew said. “It’ll protect your arm from the bowstring.” She removed the leather bracer from her forearm.

Annie’s breath caught when Drew slipped the piece of leather, still warm from Drew’s body heat, around her left arm and fastened it. Tingles shot up her arm and raced down the rest of her body.

Drew cleared her throat. “Then you put on the tab.” She fastened another piece of protection to Annie’s right hand by looping it around her middle finger.

The feel of Drew’s tannin-stained fingers sliding around hers made Annie shiver. Her head spun.

“Now position yourself at a right angle from the target with your feet shoulder-width apart.”

Annie turned her left shoulder toward the target. “Like this?”

“Move your foot a bit more to the right.”

After moving her foot another inch to the side, Annie glanced over her shoulder at Drew.

“No, the other one. Like this.” Drew put her foot between Annie’s and pressed against her right instep. This position brought her flush against Annie’s back.

Annie stood frozen to the spot.

“Your foot,” Drew said from just inches behind her. Her voice sounded husky. “Move your right foot.”

Shaking herself out of her haze, Annie slid her foot to the right.

Drew’s left arm wrapped around her body and pressed the bow into her hand.

Oh, God. She expects me to handle a weapon now?
Her whole body felt like a quivering mass of jelly. She almost dropped the bow when Drew’s other arm came around her body too. Caught between wanting to put some distance between them and wanting to lean into Drew’s embrace, she stood without moving.

“Now you nock the arrow.” Still helping Annie to hold on to the bow, Drew guided Annie’s fingers to attach the groove on the back of the arrow to the bowstring.

Were Drew’s fingers shaking too? Annie couldn’t tell. Her own fingers were trembling too much.

“Put your index finger above the arrow,” a swallowing sound interrupted Drew, “and your middle and ring finger below.” She waited until Annie followed her instruction. “How does that feel?”

Feel?
A hundred feelings were rushing through her, none of them related to holding the bow and arrow. She couldn’t feel anything but Drew’s breasts pressed against her back, Drew’s arms wrapped around her, and warm breath tickling her neck. “O-okay.”

“Really?” Drew whispered. “You’re shaking. You’re not afraid to shoot, are you?”

“No.” Shooting didn’t scare her.

“Look at me.”

Annie squeezed her eyes shut.
I can’t.

“Annie, look at me.” Drew’s hand let go of Annie’s. With two fingers, Drew guided Annie’s head around to face her.

Dark eyes probed into Annie’s, and the heady scent of sandalwood, soap, and Drew made goose bumps erupt all over Annie’s body. Two of Drew’s fingers still rested against her chin, and now they curled and stroked gently.

Annie’s knees weakened. She turned and leaned toward Drew, who pulled her closer.

Tunnel vision set in. Her world consisted of just Drew’s eyes. Her lips. Lips that were coming closer to hers, like two magnets being pulled together.

Heat enveloped her as Drew slid both arms around her and leaned up on her tiptoes.

The bow clattered to the ground.

The noise pulled Annie from her haze. She jerked back.
Oh, God. What just happened?
She stumbled back and stared at the bow that lay in the grass, unable to look Drew in the eyes.

“Annie ...” Her name sounded like a prayer on Drew’s lips. “Annie, please, we need to talk.”

But Annie backed away. “I’m not ... I can’t. Not now.” She fumbled with the arm and finger guards until she managed to take them off and handed them to Drew without looking at her. She quickly increased the distance between them. “I’ll pick you up at two tomorrow to drive to my parents.”

Drew ran after her, the quiver dangling against her thigh. “Is that a good idea? There’s so much going on.” She pointed back and forth between them. Then she seemed to realize that she was still clutching the arrow and stuffed it into the quiver. “Is tricking Jake really what’s important right now?”

Was it? So much was changing. She was changing. Annie hated change. Even though she knew it was crazy, she wanted to remain the steadfast Annie who stuck to her plans at least in this one thing.
Or maybe you just want the convenient excuse that you’re just pretending to have feelings for Drew.

“Please,” Annie said. “I promise we will talk. But not now. I can’t handle this right now. It’s too much.” In her usually well-ordered life, she had never felt this much.

Drew looked into her eyes and nodded. “Whatever you want.”

Annie sucked much-needed air into her lungs. “Thank you,” she whispered. What she was asking of Drew wasn’t easy; she knew that. Drew looked as confused as Annie felt, and Annie wanted to bridge the space between them and soothingly rub her back. But for now, she had a hard enough time dealing with her own feelings. She turned and hurried away. Her thoughts raced even faster.
Jesus Christ, what was I thinking? I almost kissed her!

But maybe that was the problem. She hadn’t been thinking. For a brief moment, she had just been feeling, letting herself experience without any thought of what it might mean.

When she reached the corner of the barn, she looked over her shoulder.

Drew still stood in the middle of the field, the quiver hanging forgotten at her side and a forlorn expression on her face.