“Did you just order a bottle of Hermitage in a restaurant in a casino?” I asked, trying to decide if I might have misheard him.
Gannon looked down at me and smirked. “Yes.” Of course, that was all he was going to say.
“That’s a French red wine that happens to be my favorite but you can’t find it easily in the States and definitely not at a restaurant like this. You ordered a vintage Hermitage.”
He looked annoyed, and his hand tightened on my thigh.
When he did this, I knew I’d stepped over the line he kept invisibly drawn before us. Something that should annoy me but didn’t. I liked the idea of the line taunting me to cross it.
“I don’t need a wine lesson. I’m aware of what I ordered. Damn high-maintenance woman,” he finished with an exasperated mutter.
“Did you just call me high-maintenance?” I asked, straightening my posture and shooting him a glare that was definitely crossing his line.
He turned back to me after taking a sip of his water and almost laughed. “Yes, sweetheart, I did. You are the most high-maintenance woman I’ve ever met.”
That didn’t sound good at all. But he was probably correct in that assumption. I was terribly high-maintenance. Still, it was rude for him to say that. “That’s rude,” I told him.
“As are you, my dear.”
I had opened my mouth to say something brilliantly sassy when the server appeared with the wine. I was a little more than excited that they had the Hermitage. I found it hard to believe that Gannon had just randomly chosen my favorite wine. It wasn’t an easy guess. “How did you know this was my favorite?” I asked.
“Because I care,” he said simply, and then began to order our first course without consulting me. I was relieved to hear that it was tuna tartare, so I didn’t complain. But a part of me wanted to. Just because.
Between quips and small talk, I got very little out of Gannon. He, however, found out that I lived in Rosemary Beach, that my father was the rock legend Kiro Manning, and that I had two siblings from Kiro, neither of whom had much to do with me, one sibling from my mother whom I was very close to, and a nephew I adored.
Somehow he had managed to keep me talking while evading all questions directed at him. Stubborn man.
Major
This was quite possibly the dumbest thing I’d ever done, but I was drunk and pissed off. I wasn’t walking my ass to Mexico. Hell the fuck no. Who in their right mind thought I was that stupid? Fuck that shit. I was going where I wanted to go.
Right after I dropped off this little note to Nan. I stumbled up her front steps and unlocked her door using the code I knew by heart, then disabled her alarm. Once it was safe to enter, I glanced down at my black clothing, grinning at my breaking-and-entering gear. I’d thought this shit through. Over eight shots of tequila.
Right there on her kitchen counter, I placed a note. It was simple and not as fancy as those colored envelopes Cope had given me to give her. This one wouldn’t have any lovely love sonnets or whatever the hell were in them. Nope . . . this one would have the truth. What she needed to know.
Because damn if she wasn’t innocent. She was too superficial and worried about her next manicure and trip to Paris to be in with a criminal. That wasn’t Nan. If Cope didn’t see that yet, then he wasn’t as great as everyone thought he was. He needed work.
The thing was, I didn’t think he believed that Nan was involved with anything. He’d been watching her as she ate, slept, watched the fucking TV, showered, and whatever the hell else she did for two months. He knew she was innocent. Why he was determined to prove otherwise I wasn’t sure. But she needed to know it.
I looked around her house one last time and felt a twinge of sadness. I’d miss Nan. I’d miss the fun times we did have before it all went to shit. Maybe she might have been the one for me. Maybe if I’d loved her when she had wanted me to, she would have changed my life. But I hadn’t, and now she was out of my reach.
I owed this to her. She needed to know the truth. What they were doing to her was wrong. Nan was special. She’d been misunderstood her entire life, and this was just one more cruelty she would have to overcome. She’d never forgive me, and my telling her would only make her hate me more.
But she meant enough to me that I wanted her to know. She would probably be my one that got away, the one I’d remember years from now and wonder about. It was done now. All of it.
It was time I peaced out.
Nan
My body was beautifully exhausted when I stretched the next morning. Sunlight was streaming into my suite, and strong arms were around me, pulling me against a wide chest that made me feel safe. After our delicious meal and two bottles of wine, we had come back up to my suite and had incredible hot sex for hours.
Never had I actually had sex for two hours straight. I didn’t know that was possible. That wasn’t even counting the foreplay, either. Straight-up sex that went on for two hours. I’d lost count of my orgasms. He was better than my dreams but so similar.
I touched my cheek. The slap he’d given me had startled me, because I’d thought that happened in my dreams only. Apparently, I had been wrong. It didn’t sting, and I knew there would be no mark left. I moved my hand to touch my shoulder, which had been bruised from my too-real dream, and it was still tender. Gannon hadn’t even mentioned it, but then, we had been kind of preoccupied.
“You’re on birth control.” It wasn’t a question as much as a statement, but I still nodded my head. He didn’t even sound as if he had been sleeping. His voice was the same deep, smooth darkness as always.
Gannon looked down at me and smirked. “Yes.” Of course, that was all he was going to say.
“That’s a French red wine that happens to be my favorite but you can’t find it easily in the States and definitely not at a restaurant like this. You ordered a vintage Hermitage.”
He looked annoyed, and his hand tightened on my thigh.
When he did this, I knew I’d stepped over the line he kept invisibly drawn before us. Something that should annoy me but didn’t. I liked the idea of the line taunting me to cross it.
“I don’t need a wine lesson. I’m aware of what I ordered. Damn high-maintenance woman,” he finished with an exasperated mutter.
“Did you just call me high-maintenance?” I asked, straightening my posture and shooting him a glare that was definitely crossing his line.
He turned back to me after taking a sip of his water and almost laughed. “Yes, sweetheart, I did. You are the most high-maintenance woman I’ve ever met.”
That didn’t sound good at all. But he was probably correct in that assumption. I was terribly high-maintenance. Still, it was rude for him to say that. “That’s rude,” I told him.
“As are you, my dear.”
I had opened my mouth to say something brilliantly sassy when the server appeared with the wine. I was a little more than excited that they had the Hermitage. I found it hard to believe that Gannon had just randomly chosen my favorite wine. It wasn’t an easy guess. “How did you know this was my favorite?” I asked.
“Because I care,” he said simply, and then began to order our first course without consulting me. I was relieved to hear that it was tuna tartare, so I didn’t complain. But a part of me wanted to. Just because.
Between quips and small talk, I got very little out of Gannon. He, however, found out that I lived in Rosemary Beach, that my father was the rock legend Kiro Manning, and that I had two siblings from Kiro, neither of whom had much to do with me, one sibling from my mother whom I was very close to, and a nephew I adored.
Somehow he had managed to keep me talking while evading all questions directed at him. Stubborn man.
Major
This was quite possibly the dumbest thing I’d ever done, but I was drunk and pissed off. I wasn’t walking my ass to Mexico. Hell the fuck no. Who in their right mind thought I was that stupid? Fuck that shit. I was going where I wanted to go.
Right after I dropped off this little note to Nan. I stumbled up her front steps and unlocked her door using the code I knew by heart, then disabled her alarm. Once it was safe to enter, I glanced down at my black clothing, grinning at my breaking-and-entering gear. I’d thought this shit through. Over eight shots of tequila.
Right there on her kitchen counter, I placed a note. It was simple and not as fancy as those colored envelopes Cope had given me to give her. This one wouldn’t have any lovely love sonnets or whatever the hell were in them. Nope . . . this one would have the truth. What she needed to know.
Because damn if she wasn’t innocent. She was too superficial and worried about her next manicure and trip to Paris to be in with a criminal. That wasn’t Nan. If Cope didn’t see that yet, then he wasn’t as great as everyone thought he was. He needed work.
The thing was, I didn’t think he believed that Nan was involved with anything. He’d been watching her as she ate, slept, watched the fucking TV, showered, and whatever the hell else she did for two months. He knew she was innocent. Why he was determined to prove otherwise I wasn’t sure. But she needed to know it.
I looked around her house one last time and felt a twinge of sadness. I’d miss Nan. I’d miss the fun times we did have before it all went to shit. Maybe she might have been the one for me. Maybe if I’d loved her when she had wanted me to, she would have changed my life. But I hadn’t, and now she was out of my reach.
I owed this to her. She needed to know the truth. What they were doing to her was wrong. Nan was special. She’d been misunderstood her entire life, and this was just one more cruelty she would have to overcome. She’d never forgive me, and my telling her would only make her hate me more.
But she meant enough to me that I wanted her to know. She would probably be my one that got away, the one I’d remember years from now and wonder about. It was done now. All of it.
It was time I peaced out.
Nan
My body was beautifully exhausted when I stretched the next morning. Sunlight was streaming into my suite, and strong arms were around me, pulling me against a wide chest that made me feel safe. After our delicious meal and two bottles of wine, we had come back up to my suite and had incredible hot sex for hours.
Never had I actually had sex for two hours straight. I didn’t know that was possible. That wasn’t even counting the foreplay, either. Straight-up sex that went on for two hours. I’d lost count of my orgasms. He was better than my dreams but so similar.
I touched my cheek. The slap he’d given me had startled me, because I’d thought that happened in my dreams only. Apparently, I had been wrong. It didn’t sting, and I knew there would be no mark left. I moved my hand to touch my shoulder, which had been bruised from my too-real dream, and it was still tender. Gannon hadn’t even mentioned it, but then, we had been kind of preoccupied.
“You’re on birth control.” It wasn’t a question as much as a statement, but I still nodded my head. He didn’t even sound as if he had been sleeping. His voice was the same deep, smooth darkness as always.
