Twice in a Blue Moon (26 page)

She didn't need a rescuer. And if she needed one in the future, she'd do it herself.

But he's changed.

Go away. There's not enough empirical evidence to support that theory.

But she had to admit, the evidence was piling up. Little things, like him not having an opinion on anything except the lab. Over the last few weeks not once had he tried to help. He was professional and polite, both friendly and distant at the same time. He came in, did his work and left. She couldn't find a thing to complain about.

And frankly, that was getting irritating. Was she the only one finding this difficult?

Well, it was for the best. Someday she'd be ready for a relationship. But until then, better she got settled with this new independence she'd paid so much for.

The lights of the laboratory reflected on the painted floor as she walked to the glass-fronted room. It was empty.

Movement in a corner caught her eye. Danovan sat on the floor, ruffling Barney's ears.

“Who's a big guy? Who's the Superdog?”

An adoring Barney licked Danovan's chin.

“Yeah, that's right. Barnabas Blue, that's who.”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Am I interrupting?”

They both looked up with smiles. Luckily, only Barney's included drool.

“Ah, Indigo. We were just coming to find you.”

“It's really a shame that you dislike dogs.”

“It is. Luckily Barn's not a dog. I have this theory. Barney's some alpha guy, reincarnated as a bassett hound to get some rest.” With one last pat for Barney, Danovan climbed to his feet.

“Oh. I see. That explains it, then.”

He was different today. More relaxed. More open. More...Danovan. And in spite of her arguments, it was melting the frozen lump in her chest. Who could resist a man cooing over a dog?

He brushed off the back of his jeans and walked to the table. “I have a surprise for you.”

The soft curve of his mouth and touch of his warm chocolate eyes made her heart patter like a crushing teenager's.

Stop it. You're a business owner.

Speak for yourself.

“You're done calibrating my wine?”

“Better than that.” His eyes sidled away, and he fiddled with a knob on the centrifuge.

Surely he couldn't be done with his wine yet. He'd be back next week. Wouldn't he? “You're not done with your signature wine, are you?”

“Well, that's what I need to talk to you about.” He swirled wine in a glass beaker. Round and round.

The longer time stretched out, the more nervous she got. And witnessing his nervousness bumped it to a higher power.

“What is it? Is something wrong with it?”

“I don't know.” Staring at the swirling red liquid, a line formed between his brows. One perfect, one scarred. “I won't know until I ask. But then it'll be too late.”

She straightened from the doorframe. Whatever it was, she would be ready to meet it. “I can take it. Tell me. Is my wine faulted?”

“What?” His head snapped up. “No, no, nothing like that.”

She put her hand to her panicked heart. If Danovan DiCarlo was worried, she was terrified. “You're freaking me out. Please tell me.”

His jaw tightened, thinning his lips. He rounded the table, pulled the barstool from beneath the tall table, put it in the center of the floor and patted it. “Come, sit. I have to go get something.” He walked to the office next door.

She took a controlled breath and blew it out, a yoga calming technique. “You can handle whatever it is,” she whispered. “You are a strong, independent woman.” She took another breath. “You've made it this far, and you're still standing.” Well, she was sitting, but still—

“Close your eyes.” His voice came from behind her.

“Danovan, if this is some kind of game, I'm going to thump you. You're really frightening me.”

“Good, then we're even. Please, just humor me.”

“Oh, all right.” She closed her eyes.

In a few seconds, he said, “Okay, you can open them.”

He was down on one knee in front of her, cradling a bottle of wine like a sommelier waiting for a diner's approval.

“What is this?”

“It's my signature wine.”

It was a dark bottle, corked, with a deep blue foil label with gold script: Twice in a Blue Moon Merlot.

“Do you remember? You told me once that you were lucky, because love like you and Harry had only came along once in a blue moon.”

She sat shocked to stillness. What was he saying? This was so opposite what she'd expected, her brain couldn't shift gears in time to catch up.

“I know I'm too brash, and I guess this bottle is proof.” He turned it to face him and studied the label. “But I've also learned a lot about humility and the damage my arrogance has caused.

“These past months have taught me something else, too—that I can live without you.” He set the bottle on the table. “They've also taught me that I don't want to.”

When she would have interrupted, he held up a hand. “I'm not talking about business. You have your winery. I have mine.” He stood, took her hands and lifted her to her feet, his eyes full of questions. “I love you, Indigo Blue. Would you be willing to take one more chance on me?”

When her lungs screamed for air, she inhaled.

How could she trust gold-foil words? Or the earnest look on a movie-star-handsome face?

Harder yet, how could she trust a gut instinct about as accurate as that fish, Dory, from the Pixar movie?

You can. Because you know it's right.

For once the voice didn't sound like a sarcastic teenager. It sounded...like her. An older, wiser version of her.

She remembered Jesse's advice to think of the worst that could happen. If you could live with that, you had your answer. If she gave her heart again to this man, and he lied, or tried to take over, or—

A flash of insight hit her like a searchlight in a night sky. None of that mattered anymore.

If the worst happened, she'd pick herself up and move on to whatever came next. And whatever came after that. Because she was her
own
Superman.

“I don't need you either, DiCarlo.”

He looked as if he'd expected it. His face devoid of emotion, he nodded, looked away and dropped her hands.

“And thank God for that.” She put her fingers under his chin and lifted it. “Because that makes it okay for me to want you. Better yet, it allows me to
have
you.” She gave in to the tug that she could finally admit to feeling—the feeling she'd had since she saw him across the lawn the day of the grape stomping. She touched her lips to his. “Hello again.”

He made a little whimper at the back of his throat, wrapped her in his arms, and seized her mouth. She felt every lonely night, every longing of the past months in that kiss. He lightened the pressure, then trailed kisses across her cheeks, her nose, over her eyelids. Tiny champagne kisses that went with the bubbles of happiness rising in her chest.

“Whoop!” When he lifted her into his arms and spun in a circle, she threw her head back and laughed.

He slowed their spin, the look in his eyes changing from a spark to a smolder. It was enough to catch her tinder; it burned on and fast. After a deep, searching kiss, she leaned her forehead on his and whispered, “Put me down. Let's go to the cabin.”

He raised his scarred eyebrow. “Oh, lady, I know a place that's a lot closer than that.”

He carried her to the manager's quarters, trailing kisses the whole way.

EPILOGUE

“T
HERE
YOU
ARE
.” Jesse stood on the porch of the cabin, hands on hips, in full lecture mode. “I thought I was gonna have to drive over there and haul you off the tractor. Holy poop, woman, you want to be late for your own wedding?”

Indigo trotted up the path, laughing. “No worries, Jess. If I'm late, the groom's late. He was with me.” It was only fitting that they started this day together on a tractor. They'd been tilling over at what they called Danovan's winery, though it was now just a vineyard. When they'd decided that all wine making would take place at The Widow, they'd cannibalized the winery equipment, selling most of it—after she called dibs on the crusher.

“Don't get your frillies in a twist, Jess.” She jogged up the stairs. “I'll hop in the shower, and then you can go to work on the makeup.”

“Well, you'd better hurry. Masterpieces take time.” Jesse followed her through the screen door. “Not that you need it. You're glowing, hon.”

“I'm getting married today. Isn't that a requirement?”

“Good point. Your groom is pretty easy on the eyes, too. Your wedding photos could be in
Brides
magazine.”

“No way. I'm done with public life. I want nothing more than what I can see from the front porch of this cabin.” She hugged her friend. “Well, that and your milkshakes and a Yukon pizza now and again.”

Jesse swatted her butt. “Will you get in the shower? You're gonna be late, I'm telling you.”

Indigo practiced her vows in the shower. After that, time sped up, going by in a colorful whirl. And before she knew it, she was standing alone in the tasting room, facing the closed front door of the winery, dressed and made up, holding a nosegay of peach and white roses.

They'd decided against bridesmaids and groomsmen, and today, she was glad they had. It was only fitting that she'd do this alone.

She looked out past the porch, to where the little white bridge arched over the brook, leading to the white gazebo. The grapevines had taken hold in the lattice, and the vines dripped tiny delicate grape flowers from the roof. White folding chairs spread almost three hundred sixty degrees around it, filled with friends, customers and family. She could see her mother in the front row, and Danovan's family, who had arrived en masse two days ago.

She smoothed a hand down the peach chiffon dress she'd fallen in love with the second she'd seen it. The deep V-neck, ruffled cap sleeves and the hem at her knees in front, falling to her ankles in the back, made her feel like a princess from a fairy tale. The ballet slippers and white baby's breath that Jesse had twined in her hair had been just the right touch.

She pressed a hand to the butterflies in her stomach that had gotten a head start on the party. She might be nervous about the details of the day, but beneath that there was a solid bedrock of knowing.

This was right.

She shifted the bouquet to her other hand and reached for the door. But then she let her hand fall to her side. She shot a glance at the ceiling. “You know I'll always love you, Harry.” Imaging his smile, she blew a kiss at the ceiling. “Wish me luck.”

She opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The crowd fell silent. She walked to the bridge. Her eyes found Danovan, standing in the shade of the gazebo, hands clasped in front of him. He was as devastatingly handsome in his tux as he was in jeans. Or wearing nothing, for that matter.

Barney, dressed in a grapevine collar twined with peach roses, sat at his feet, panting a grin.

She crossed the bridge, walked onto the pristine white runner and took the final steps of a long path that would lead her to her new husband. She let the love that shone in his eyes pull her until she stood beside him at last.

Sooner than she thought possible, she stood, hands in his, looking into his eyes, and speaking her vows. “Just as the vines change with the seasons, so have I. You've helped me discover that there are more kinds of love in the world than just one. And I'm so incredibly lucky to have found one that was made just for me. I love you, Danovan DiCarlo, and promise to nurture, care for and cherish you, always.”

He smiled down at her, eyes suspiciously bright. “And I love you, Indigo Blue. I promise to love you and give you space to grow, to flourish, always.” His fingers tightened on hers. “More than anything, I promise not to take for granted a love that only comes twice in a blue moon.”

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from ALL I HAVE by Laura Drake.

Chapter One

“G
UH
.”

Mia Pruitt ran smack-dab into her sister's back, causing the pallet full of cabbages she was carrying to drop to the ground. Green spheres bounced against the concrete with a thud and rolled in every direction.

“Damn it, Cara.” At least cabbage was one of the hardier vegetables Mia had for the early-spring market. The drop wouldn't really damage them.

“Sorry.” But Cara didn't move. She stood frozen directly in the path between the truck bed and Mia's stand at the farmers' market, cabbage strewn about her feet.

Mia looked where Cara's gaze was transfixed and groaned. “Is he serious? It's not even fifty degrees. Can't he wait until July for that crap?”

“Who cares?” Cara fanned her face with her hand. “He can take his shirt off any day he wants. And if he gets cold, I will gladly step in to warm him up.”

Dell Wainwright and his stupid shirtless antics had put a serious dent in their farmers' market profits last year. Cara didn't care, but this wasn't her full-time job. Mia was the one taking over the farm. Mia was the one making this stand into a living. She cared, and she was going to find a way to combat him this year.

Dell might look like a god among men shirtless behind his table full of spring vegetables, but she'd jump around naked in front of everyone before she let him put her out of business. This farmers' market was the best thing to happen to her share of Pruitt Farms and to her personally. In the past four years she'd been selling here, she had finally learned how to come out of her shell.

In its fifth year, the market had grown to fill up half a mall parking lot. Tables with awnings lined the outer lot. In early spring, there were only two rows, but by midsummer there'd be four. Each booth was made up of a variety of locally sourced items. From her and Dell's locally grown vegetables to people selling meat, eggs, local and homemade cheeses and honeys and breads, and a few craft and soap stands.

Each year they had more customers, and each year Dell's stand had directly competed with hers. She'd managed to build up her business to break even and was this close to making it profitable.

Yeah, Dell was not screwing that up. Six-pack abs or no six-pack abs. “Stop drooling and pick up the cabbage.” She gave Cara a nudge with her boot. “He's the enemy, remember?”

“If the enemy looks like that, I'll gladly turn myself in. What kind of torture are we talking?”

“Gross.”

“If you think that's gross, you need your eyes checked.” Cara flipped her hair over her shoulder and bent down to pick up the cabbage at her feet. Her eyes never left Dell.

Mia set to unloading the early-spring haul onto the table under the Pruitt Farms tent. Meanwhile, Cara made no bones about watching Dell's every move.

Cara was always dating or talking about guys she wanted to date or pinning hot celebrity pictures to her Pinterest page. It wasn't that Mia didn't appreciate a hot guy. She just didn't understand obsessing over one.

Probably because twenty-six-year-old virgins didn't know what they were missing.

Mia set up the pallets, the price signs, made sure everything was just so, and maybe on occasion her gaze drifted to Dell and his broad, tanned shoulders as he hauled his own farm's offerings from truck to table.

He was still the enemy, but it didn't mean she couldn't
look
.

“So glad to see you girls back this year,” Val greeted them, ever-present clipboard clutched to her chest. “You're going to stick with us all year, right?”

“Yes, ma'am. Couldn't kick us out if you wanted.”

Val wasn't looking at her anymore, though. She was drooling over Dell, right along with Cara. Mia resisted the urge to hurl a cabbage across the aisle. Knowing Dell, he'd probably make a big show out of catching it.

“Uh-huh. Very good. See you next week.” Val wandered off to Dell's table. In two seconds flat, Dell was making her giggle and blush.

“You can't stop staring, either.”

“I'm picturing strangling him.” If that picture included wondering what his skin might feel like under her hands it was curiosity, not interest. Or so she told herself, year after shirtless year.

“Hey, whatever floats your boat.”

A group of women descended on Dell's table. Usually the first hour of the first week of the market was virtually empty, but today had a bit of a crowd. A mainly female crowd.

Not fair. What'd he do, advertise?
Male stripper does Millertown Farmers' Market.

The group of women laughed and Dell made a big production of picking things up and putting things down and flexing and—ugh—he really was despicable.

“You're blushing.”

“I am not!” Damn it. She totally was. Well, she'd come too far to be flustered by a pair of perfectly toned forearms. She was not the little girl who hyperventilated in the bathroom between classes if a boy even said hi to her.

It had always been a joke anyway. Say hi to Mia Pruitt and watch her self-destruct into a blushing, babbling mess.

Dell wasn't saying hi to her, joke or no joke, and he most certainly wasn't a boy. He was an adult man and she was an adult woman. A confident, strong woman no longer the laughingstock of her tiny Missouri farming community.

Every time someone bought a head of broccoli or cabbage from him, they weren't buying it from her. So, essentially, he was stealing.

Nobody liked thieves no matter how white their teeth were or how charming their grin might be.

“You know what?” Mia dropped the cash box onto the ground next to her chair with a loud crash. “Two can play his little game.” She was done just...
taking
it. Maybe it was time to fight.

Cara laughed. “What does that mean? You going to take your shirt off?”

“Not exactly.” Mia narrowed her eyes at Dell flirting with a young mom who carried a baby on her hip. Both mom and baby were charmed. Mom bought a bag full of vegetables. Probably wouldn't eat half of them before they went bad.

Mia might not have muscles and a five o'clock shadow women swooned over, but surely she could do something to undermine Dell's sex-sells philosophy.

If you couldn't beat 'em, join 'em.
She wasn't sure how to join them yet, but she would damn well figure it out before next week. She was tired of being the passive taker-of-crap. She was going to act.

* * *

“M
IA
'
S
BORING
HOLES
through your skull with her eyes. Be afraid. Be very afraid.”

Dell waved his brother off. “Please. Mia Pruitt is five foot three of all bark and no bite in a baggy sweatshirt.”

“I don't know. She takes this farm stuff pretty seriously.” Charlie stacked the last empty pallet on the truck bed. “Wouldn't want to get in her way. Besides, she's not bad without the glasses and the frizzy hair. Kind of cute, actually.”

“I'm not worried about Mia.” Dell pulled on a threadbare Mizzou sweatshirt. “I take my farm stuff pretty seriously, too.” He spared her a glance.
Cute
was probably the right word for her. With her hair straight instead of a frizz of curls and the heavy-framed glasses gone, she no longer resembled Mia, Queen of the Geeks.

But in the baggy shirt and at-least-one-size-too-big jeans, even a sexy mouth and big green eyes couldn't push her beyond cute.

Charlie laughed. “Yeah, nothing says
serious
like taking off your shirt and flexing your muscles to sell a few extra cucumbers.”

“Hey, a true businessman does what he has to do.”

Charlie shook his head. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night, man.”

His VP of sales older brother could sneer at the farm and all that went with it as much as he liked, but with Dad making noises about selling instead of passing the farm on to Dell, Dell knew he had to kick ass this market season. That meant whatever tactics necessary, regardless of Charlie's approval.

If that meant taking off his shirt, so be it. A little harmless flirting and a few extra dollars in his pocket wouldn't hurt anyone, and it'd help him. Why did people have to assume that meant he was an idiot? He was raking it in.

“Can we hurry this up? I've got a lunch date with Emily downtown in, like, an hour.”

Dell nodded and picked up the pace. Choosing a noisy, bustling dinner at a fancy restaurant downtown over the quiet ease of lunch at Moonrise in New Benton was beyond him. But then, the things he didn't understand about his older brother were too many to count.

Dell folded the awning and was tying it together when a pair of greenish cowboy boots stepped into his vision. He looked up, quirked an eyebrow at Mia.

“Wainwright.” She was almost a foot shorter than he, so she had to tilt her head back when he stood to his full height.

He nodded, tipped the brim of his ball cap. “Pruitt.” Maybe he should have worn a Stetson hat. This felt more like high noon than a friendly greeting.

“Still lowering yourself to stripping for attention?” She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought maybe you'd grown up a bit since last year.”

She had a dusting of light brown freckles across her nose. Kind of weird to notice it now, but then again he'd never spent much time looking at Mia. The girl who'd been the champion of awkward moments in high school, then come back from college quiet and unassuming. Of course, she'd never gotten up in his face and accused him of stripping before.

Dell grinned. That meant she thought he was a threat to her tidy little business. He primed up the charm and the drawl. “Don't worry, darling. I'm sure there'll be enough customers to go around. Not everyone is swayed by good looks and charm. Just most people.”

She didn't cower. She didn't walk away. She didn't even dissolve into the Queen of the Geeks she'd been in high school. No, Mia Pruitt grinned at him—which had to be a first, even if she'd grown out of most of her awkwardness since she'd come back from college.

“Oh, I'm not worried. But you should be,” she said. Then she sauntered away with enough confidence that Dell stared after her.

“Whoa.” The saunter. The grin. Even with all her recent changes, he'd never seen that kind of...attitude from Mia before. Was it his imagination, or was it kind of hot?

Charlie slapped him on the back. “Told you not to cross her. Mia isn't the girl hiding behind the pony at Kelsey's birthday party anymore, if you hadn't noticed.”

Dell stared after Mia's swinging hips. Apparently he hadn't noticed that at all.

Copyright © 2014 by Nicole Helm