From the Moment We Met (21 page)

She was also special. A thought that made him stop—midtease. Here she was pretty much naked, lying on the cold bed of his truck in the middle of a field, and once again—he was
that
guy.

“Abby,” he said, pulling slightly back.

“Are we savoring again?” She wrapped her legs around him. “Because I’m done with the savoring part. We can savor next time.”

Well, at least she was thinking about a next time. Problem was, he was thinking about the time after that and, well, a whole summer of next times and maybe even stretching into the fall and winter. But
this
time—
this
time was different. Special.

Deserving of her.

Something he should have realized the first time, but was too young, too stupid, and way too horny to understand.

“I want this to be special,” he admitted, and when she smiled up at him like that, like he was everything she needed, he realized he wanted to be the guy who made her every moment special. “I want to take you out to a nice dinner, then take you home and lay you out on my big, soft bed and explore every inch of you, then wake up holding you and do it all over again.”

“I don’t want a fancy dinner, and I don’t want to wait until we’re in your bed, Jack. I want you.” Her legs tightened. “Right here, in the middle of this field you obviously love.”

Tanner actually felt his entire world stop. Felt something between them warm, become softer. Oh, the heat and the passion and the need were all still there, so intense that one spark and—boom. It would always be like that with them. If a decade couldn’t take the edge off, this sexual intensity would be a forever kind of thing.

“But,” she said, and there it was.

Tanner’s heart gave a final, painful pump to the chest and waited for her to finish. For her to point out the buts and exceptions and conditions he’d heard his entire life.

She leaned up and crushed her mouth to his. “We need to get you out of these clothes.”

How was a man to argue with that? Out of all the scenarios he’d run in his head the past few days, he’d never imagined this evening would end in the back of his truck with her naked—taking off
his
clothes.

Always a team player, he went to work on his boots and, after pulling out a condom from his back pocket and setting it on the tailgate, together they made short order of his pants, although her hands were doing more copping than helping, but he was okay with that. More than okay. He was so okay with the turn of events that he was smiling like a damn idiot.

Oddly enough, he was okay with that too. In fact, he was still smiling when she kissed him again. Considered giving her an enthusiastic high five when she gently pushed his shoulders until he was completely on his back and—best day ever—her panties joined his pants on the grass.

But she left the bra on.

Not that it was doing much more than acting as a tray for his viewing pleasure, since he’d managed to tug the cups all the way down.

God, she was a sight. Straddling him with the orange sky behind her made her skin glow and highlighted her brown hair as it tumbled over her shoulders and around her face, making her features appear even more delicate.

“Um, Tanner.” She held out the condom. Her hands were shaking. “Do you want me to . . . ?”

While he was staring his fill, he’d neglected to remember it had been a long time for her. And she was beyond nervous.

“Come here.” Sitting up, he took the condom from her and wrapped his arms around her, his hands going immediately to her ass. After a gentle squeeze, he scooted her toward him, and when she was so close they were sharing the same heat, he whispered, “I wanted to see if you still love it when I do this.”

Tanner lifted her slightly, then let her slide back down, all of her soft parts rubbing against his hard ones. The breathy sigh she gave told him she more than liked it. So he did it again, taking his time to make sure she was too turned on to be nervous.

She arched her back at the first contact, pushing against his massive erection, taking the friction from hot to holy fuck.

“Tanner,” she whispered against his neck. “Now. I want you inside of—”

He had the condom opened and on and was sliding home before she could even finish her sentence. But instead of moving, he just held her, fitting her perfectly against him while rubbing his hands up and down her back as they both took a moment to remember how amazing this felt.

Abby pulled back and looked up at him. “It’s better than I remember.”

“It’s exactly how I remember it.” Perfect.

Tanner lifted her slightly then let her slide back down. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on so tight her breasts were crushed to his chest.

She began moving incredibly slowly at first, and he could feel every part of their bodies rub and grind against each other. It took everything he had to hold on.

The pace picked up, their skin slick with the summer air, and the sensations were so sensual they blew right past mind-blowing and were quickly approaching life-altering when her gasps came closer and closer. Her eyes slid half-closed with pleasure as her arms hugged him tighter and tighter, and he knew,
knew
, she was there. She was one flex of the hip away from—

“Perfect. You feel perfect,” she said on a gasp, throwing her head all the way back, and that was it. That was all it took.

He called out her name as her body tensed around him and they both fell together. Tanner held her tightly to him, refusing to let go until they rode out every last wave.

They were still both breathing heavily when she opened her eyes and smiled shyly up at him. That’s when Tanner knew he was in serious trouble. With that one smile, Abby turned what was supposed to be a simple first and goal into something more complicated.

Somewhere between playing Bullshit together and a blitz attack from the DeLuca Darling, Tanner ended up fumbling his heart.

CHAPTER 14

I
t was a perfect day in wine country, Abby thought as she made her way up the steps of town hall and between the two massive columns, her blueprints clutched to her chest and her Certificate of Inspection slip in hand. The mustard weed was in full bloom, painting the valley a brilliant yellow. Early-morning tourists made their way up and down Main Street, window shopping and sipping their morning pick-me-ups. Even the weather was perfect, bringing a gentle breeze to combat the warm August sun and rustle the bright purple lavender that lined the streets and scented the air.

Proud they’d passed inspection with flying colors and exhilarated to get this project rolling, Abby pushed through the ornate wooden doors, loving how the raw silk of her little Jackie O–inspired dress swished as she walked. It was dusty blue, sleek, and sophisticated, with an inspired little bow in the back adding a bit of romantic to the professional. Matched with her favorite vintage heels, it made the perfect statement.

Designer on a mission.

A mission she was about to put into action. The Pungent Barrel was the first order of business of the morning, and the board was expected to make its ruling by the end of the work day. Which meant Tanner could finally start installing the materials and retrofitting the old conveyer belt.

Just thinking about Tanner made her stomach flip. Not only had he given her the best sex of her life, he’d brought her to his favorite spot, shared a piece of himself with her. Something he’d never done before.

In the past, Abby had been the one to share, and Tanner would listen, but he’d always kept big parts of his life to himself. On their date, he’d opened up to her and offered to let her be a part of something important to him.

“Morning, Roz,” Abby said with a smile so big it hurt her cheeks. When Roz’s greeting was to keep clicking away on her computer, Abby pulled out the bright orange application form and held it up. “I’m here for the Historical Preservation Council’s meeting. I am nominating one of our town’s most historical and unique buildings for the Memory Lane Manor Walk.”

“Well, how exciting for you,” Roz mumbled, but hit the buzzer all the same.

The door buzzed, and with a little wave, which went unreturned, Abby made her way through the glass doors.

Confidence bubbling, Abby strode down the long hallway, smiling as she passed photograph after photograph of over a hundred years of the town’s architectural history, knowing someday soon her name would be added to that small but prestigious club. She was going to walk into that meeting, wow them with her preservation-conscious designs, and by the end of her speech, have the full support of the HPC behind the project.

“You got this,” she said quietly, pushing through the antique gothic door
salvaged from one of the original wineries in the valley, waltzing right into that room, and—

She so did not have this. Not even close. In fact, she wondered just how unlucky one person could be. Because no one’s karma could be this bad. No one’s.

“Abigail.” Nora Kincaid stood from behind the conference table, her eyes glued to the nomination application in Abby’s hand. “Perkins was just explaining your situation. Said you asked if we could make an exception and allow you to nominate a residence so late into the selection process. Imagine that.”

Yeah. Imagine that.

“Why do I have to always be so stubborn?” Abby asked, fiddling with the label on her beer bottle as she sat between Tanner’s legs on the lounger. Her head rested against his chest as she stared past his patio to the setting sun. “They’re never going to approve the plans now.”

“You don’t know that.” Tanner tightened his arms around her, wishing there was something he could do to make this all better.

“I have a naked statue on my front lawn, Jack.” She gave him a look. “A naked statue that stares into the windows of the most honored Memory Lane Manor of the Year Award recipient, who happens to sit on the council deciding who gets approved and who doesn’t. I can already tell you what group we’ll be in.”

Tanner wanted to point out her decision to leave the statue in her yard was selfless, and if anyone had the right to complain, it was her. Learning to manage people’s expectations while still maintaining a healthy balance of personal happiness was something Abby struggled with. Bottom line: Abby hated confrontation almost as much as she hated disappointing others, so she tended to let her people-pleasing side dominate.

“Darling, they accepted your nomination application, so now it is just a matter of reviewing your plans. And trust me,” he said gently, tilting his head down so she had to look at him. “Your designs are more powerful than an angry neighbor.”

That got a small smile out of her, so he stole the beer and took a swallow. Only when he handed it back, she was frowning again. “Then why haven’t they called? Perkins said end of the business day.”

“It’s not quite five, you’ve still got a few minutes.”

“He said end of the day
Monday
. It’s Tuesday,” she clarified, as though Tanner wasn’t well aware they’d been at a standstill for two days while the HPC took their sweet-ass time making a decision that, if you asked him, should have been a slam dunk. But instead they lost another twenty-four hours from their proposed project plan, which would create all kinds of scheduling issues.

Sure, they’d managed to finish stripping the walls down to the original brick and his crew had prepped the floors for the limestone. But they couldn’
t alter anything original to the building until they received the okay. So retrofitting and covering the conveyor belts was pushed, bumping the metalsmith to Thursday. Except the metalsmith had
another job on the books that day, but could possibly squeeze them in on Saturday. The same day Tanner had planned on taking Abby to an antique festival in Santa Rosa. Followed by a nice dinner in the city and dessert in his hot tub.

Setting the beer on the patio table, he ran his hands down her arm, linking their fingers and giving a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe they were so impressed that he wants to tell you in person.”

“Or maybe Nora sunk me.” She turned around to face him and, as though unable to meet his gaze, lay down with her cheek right over his heart. “I should have let you haul the statue away that first day when you offered.”

He tucked a finger under her chin and nudged her until she met his gaze. “You weren’t ready.”

He could see in her eyes he was right. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

It was hard enough when she was married to the douche bag, but now Richard was gone yet somehow still here, and Tanner wasn’t sure where that left him and Abby. Competing with Richard wouldn’t be hard. Competing with the wreckage he left behind, though?

Abby still needed closure. And that was the one thing Tanner couldn’t give her.

“Does that make me pathetic?” she asked quietly.

“No.” He cupped her face and brought it up to his. “It makes you human.” He gave her a gentle kiss. “You’re letting his grandmother come and pay her respects when it would be easier to take a sledgehammer to it. That makes you special, Abs.”

Then he gave her a not-so-gentle kiss, and when he pulled back, her hands were shoved up his shirt, his were on her ass, and Wreck was sitting on the end of the lounger watching.

“Come on, man,” Tanner said. He pointed to the floor. “Down.”

Wreck lay down—on the edge of the lounger.

“Off.”

“Woof.” Wreck wagged his tail and panted some. Tanner rolled his eyes and went back to kissing Abby.

“I think he likes you,” she said between kisses.

“I think he is checking out your ass.”

“That would be you.”

Yeah, that was him all right. His hands were plastered to her butt, partly to scoot her higher so kissing her would be easier, but mostly because she had an amazing ass. That was buzzing.

“Oh!” She sat up, nearly planting her knee in the family jewels as she scrambled to fish her phone out of her back pocket. She pulled it free, looked at the screen, and froze.

It buzzed again.

“You going to answer that?”

“What if they say no?”

“What if they don’t?” He leaned up and kissed her. “Either way, you’ll know.”

That got her moving, because Abby loved knowing. In fact, she lived to be in the know on everything.

“Hello, this is Abigail,” she said. “Hi, Perkins. What? No, no problem at all.”

After several
Uh-huhs
and
Yes sirs
and a very professional,
Thank you
, she hung up the phone and just stared at him. Then smiled. Big and beautiful and hot damn, he knew that smile.

“You got the approval.”

She knelt on the lounger in front of him, her eyes wide with excitement. And pride. An emotion he hadn’t seen on her face in a long time. An emotion that looked damn good on her. Hell, she was practically vibrating with it.

“
We
got the approval.” She brought her fingers up to her lips, as though that alone was the one thing stopping her from spilling the rest. Because, oh yeah, there was more. “And Perkins apologized for the delay, but finalists are notified last.”

Now it was his turn to smile. “You finaled?”

“The Jackson Bottlery, once owned by the renowned olive farmer and winemaker Randal Jackson himself, is an official finalist of the Memory Lane Manor Walk. Do you have any idea what this could mean? Not just for the Pungent Barrel, but for my firm?”

He knew. And God he wanted her to win. It would take her from small-town closet organizer to industry-celebrated designer in one press release. “It means you did good. Better than good. You inspired them.”

“We did good,” she whispered and launched herself at him, wrapping those arms and gorgeous legs around him.

He nuzzled her neck, taking in the way she smelled, how she felt, every aspect of this moment. Because he wanted to savor it.

Remember it.

“Abby, you know the bottlery didn’t final.” She pulled back, an adorable crease in her brow. “Your plans finaled.”

“Yeah,” she whispered in awe. “They did, huh?”

“Yeah, they did.” He kissed her. “And you can win this.”

“I want to win this so badly. And with you on my team, I think we can. But,” she dragged out the word, long and sweetly, locking her ankles behind his back and her arms around his neck. She was buttering him up. Not necessary since the “with you on my team” part pretty much sealed the deal. “The HPC announces the winner on August twenty-seventh.”

Tanner choked a little. “Darling, that’s a week and a half away.”

“I know.” She winced. “Trust me, I so know. And I know what I’d be asking of you and the crew, but we’re talking
Architectural Digest
and Martha Stewart. Martha freaking Stewart.” She smiled up at him and was literally beaming with excitement. Everything she was feeling was right there on her face for him to see. “Is it even a realistic goal to think we can do it in time?”

Tanner could do anything if it meant she’d keep looking at him like that. But a week and some change was going to be tough. It would require bringing on another crew to work the swing shift, his being at the shop around the clock—but yeah, he could do it. For her, he’d make it happen.

“I might need to hire an assistant,” he said, eying her cleavage.

She snuggled closer. “What kind of assistance are we talking?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you start assisting and I’ll let you know what I need.”

By Friday afternoon, the warehouse was looking less like a bottlery and more like a high-end cheese shop. The conveyer belts had been retrofitted and the reclaimed limestone had been delivered that morning from an old mission Abby had found near San Luis Obispo.

And, the best part of her day? She’d found a glassblower in Sonoma who was able to take the thousand or so vintage wine bottles Gus had discovered in the old carriage house and turn them into lighting fixtures, including the two massive chandeliers that would hang on either side of the arch.

Wiping a bead of sweat off her brow and most likely smearing cobwebs into her hair, Abby stretched her arms as far as they would go around a case of bottles and, ignoring the way her shoulders and back protested, staggered to a stand. She used her foot to kick open the doors, a blast of summer heat causing her tank top to shrink-wrap to her body like a second skin, and the farther into the sun she walked, the sweatier her hands became.