Page 166 of You've Got Hate Mail
The streets aren’t overflowing with people, but they’re far from empty.
It’s the most people I’ve seen in over a month.
And I’ve done this to myself.
I’ve chosen to leave the winery.
“They’re mostly tourists,” he says.
“Are we going to a tourist bar?”
He glances at me. “Seriously?”
I rub my hands down my pants, making the subtlest scent of sex waft into the air. The way I want to ask him to turn around and take me back to the winery and make me scream his name a few more times instead of having dinner— “Sorry. I’m nervous.”
“We can go back. Dori has Lav. I can cook.”
I shake my head. “No, I—I want to do this. Ineedto do this. If I’m staying, then I’ll be part of this community eventually too. And I want to stay. I’ve been helping Ginny and Mabel sort through potential investors since her last lead canceled onher this week, and I’ve been studying grapes and vineyards and I even talked to Winona when I saw her in the fields about helping with the crews to learn more. Did you know she’s close to retirement age? She doesn’t look old enough to be close to retirement. But I guess it makes sense since Walter and Pip are about the same age. Except men often have kids later than women do, and she could’ve been the product of a second marriage or they could’ve had fertility issues, and?—”
“Cricket.”
I bite my lip. “I’m talking too much.”
“Talk all you want. But we don’t have to do thistonight.”
“When you saytalk all you want, do you mean that because you’re practicing patience, or because you truly don’t mind?”
“I like your voice.”
I gape at him.
I know I have a nice voice. I wouldn’t have made it as far as I made it with my last job if I didn’t. But the look he slides my way—he means it. He likes my voice.
He likes hearing me talk.
Warmth spreads through my chest.
And my vagina too.
“I want to do this tonight,” I say in a rush. “Rip off the bandage.”
“Shouldn’t rip off a bandage. It can reopen the wound.”
“Scars are tougher skin.”
He squeezes my thigh as he turns us down a side street. “Say the word if you want to leave. Anytime.”
“Which word? Do we need a code word?”
“Priatitties.”
I snort with laughter, and he grins.
“Lav’s really smart,” I tell him. “Even my nieces and nephews didn’t talk as clearly as she does when they were seven. Actually,they still might not, and Belle’s youngest—my nephew—just turned ten a few months ago.”
“Most of her closest friends have always been adults.”
“And her imagination—you must’ve read to her a lot.”
