The Fifth Lesson (The Bay Boys #2) (14 page)

The dining table was impeccable.
 
Mrs. Thornton was a born hostess, a perfectionist.
 
Christie gasped at the elaborate center piece and moved closer to inspect.
 
Short, already lit candles sat in a straight line along the silk table runner.
 
But in the middle…bright magenta, soft coral, and summery yellow flowers were arranged in a beautiful golden vase.
 
Some were still little buds of tightly packed color, but the artist in her was thrilled at the composition.
 
She
had
to paint this.
 
She was already planning out how to mix the colors.

“This is absolutely gorgeous,” Christie gushed, still in awe over their beauty.
 
Where did Mrs. Thornton even get flowers this vibrant?
 
“Did you arrange these?” she asked excitedly, turning back to Adam and his mother.

Mrs. Thornton looked strangely pleased.
 
Her eyes shone bright for the first time and it seemed as if a tiny bit of pride entered her gaze.
 
She moved forward to the center piece and gently touched a coral bud with a perfectly manicured fingernail.
 
“Yes.
 
It’s a hobby.
 
A friend of mine owns this wonderful flower shop by Oxbow.”

Christie thought it would be rude to ask to take a photo, so instead, she complimented, “Well, you have a wonderful talent.”

“Thank you, dear.”
 
Mrs. Thornton was quiet for a moment, looking at her flowers in a daze.
 
Then, her head snapped up and with a subdued smile, she announced, “Well, please sit.
 
I’ll go tell Charlie we’re ready for the first course.”

She breezed out of the room, a trail of Chanel No. 5 lingering in her wake.
 
Christie’s eyes locked onto Adam’s and he gave her a reassuring quirk of the lips.
 
He led her to the chair next to the head of the table, where one of three settings were placed.
 
The chair scraped across the wood floor as he pulled it out for her.

“Sorry about all this.
 
She tends to go a little overboard sometimes,” he said quietly.
 
If he was talking about the center piece, Christie really did think it was beautiful.
 
But if he was referring to the chef, the intimidating china, and the multitude of silverware…then yeah, she was thrown off a bit.

Instead of voicing her concerns, Christie just smiled and ran a hand down his arm.
 
Lean muscle rippled under her touch.
 
“It’s all lovely.
 
Really.
 
Your mother just wants everything to be perfect for her sweet little boy,” she teased affectionately.

Adam flushed and muttered, “Jesus.
 
I’ll always be five-years-old to her.”

“You’re her only child.
 
It’s to be expected,” she told him, sitting down in the plush dining chair.
 
She glanced at the cutlery.
 
“Now, tell me which one to use for this ‘first course.’”

Adam leaned down over her shoulder.
 
Christie bit her lip, keeping her head steady, but she was still unprepared for the goosebumps that broke out over her flesh when he whispered, “This one.”
 
He touched the smallest fork on the edge.
 
“Just work your way in.”
 
Before he withdrew his hand, she grasped it, needing to feel the warmth of his flesh.

He hesitated but then his thumb stroked the soft skin of her palm.
 
She bit back a content sigh.

His mother was returning.
 
Christie could hear her kitten heels clicking on the floor of the hallway.
 
But before Adam released her hand, he brought it up quickly to his lips and placed a small kiss there.
 
It would have to be enough to get her through the meal.

“Alright then,” Mrs. Thornton exclaimed.
 
“Charlie will be right in.”
 
She gestured to the head of the table for Adam and then took the seat opposite of Christie.
 
Gently, she unraveled her cloth napkin from its complicated looking fold on the top of her plate and placed it on her lap.

Christie followed her lead.

TWELVE

Dinner was fantastic.

Christie was positive she gained at least three pounds, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty.
 
Charlie was one seriously accomplished chef.
 
The salad alone had wowed her, but followed by moist, pesto-butter infused salmon and the creamiest mashed potatoes she’d ever tasted really took the cake.

And she enjoyed the dinner conversation too.
 
Mrs. Thornton was poised and friendly.
 
She knew how to expertly maintain a conversation.
 
They talked about Adam’s work.
 
Christie asked more about the vineyard, the history of the family.
 
Mrs. Thornton was delighted to discover that Christie was an artist and inquired about her work at the gallery.
 
They even had mutual acquaintances in the art world.

After they were all stuffed, Mrs. Thornton led a tour of the house.
 
Adam stayed diligently by her side for the entirety of it, but didn’t say much.

Seven bedrooms.
 
Ten bathrooms.
 
12,300 square feet.
 
Indoor pool.
 
Patio and barbecue pit.
 
Three balconies.
 
Two fireplaces.
 
Four car garage.
 
Exercise room.

Of course, Mrs. Thornton was too modest to say the specs out loud, but Christie kept her own tally running in the back of her mind.

This
was the house Adam grew up in.
 
Yet, he seemed uncomfortable, like he didn’t want her seeing this side of himself.
 
He grew restless.
 
He started fidgeting with his watch and kept a firm grip on the wine glass he took from the dinner table.

Once they were finished with the tour, Mrs. Thornton led them to the covered patio at the back of the house.
 
It overlooked more grapevines and the cool summer air felt unbelievably refreshing.
 
Adam’s mother excused herself for a brief moment to check on dessert, giving the two of them some alone time.

“What’s wrong?” Christie immediately asked, taking a sip of her sauvignon blanc.
 
The white wine slid over her taste buds and the warmth of it felt comforting as it traveled to her belly.

Adam shook his head and stepped to the outer edge of the patio, closest to the grapevines.
 
She joined him, gazing out over the beautiful view.
 
It was so peaceful at this hour.
 
The sun had set only a little while ago, but the sky was still tinged a gentle blue.

“Adam?”
 
His eyes found her.
 
“Why’d you get all quiet?” she asked, bumping his hip.

He didn’t respond to her question.
 
Instead, he inhaled deeply and turned to her with a small smile.
 
“Do you smell that?”

She played along and took a breath in through her nostrils.
 
Smiling, she teased, “Are you trying to tell me I’m smelly?”

He grinned, that mischievous heart stopping grin she loved.
 
“No, I love the way you smell.”
 
Her heart fluttered.
 
“I’m talking about the sweet smell.”

“The sweet smell?” she asked in confusion.
 
She detected a hint of what he may be referring to.

“It reminds me of summer.
 
There are some fruit trees around the other side of the house.
 
Some of them ripen during this time and fall to the ground.
 
And the grapes.
 
It’s not quite harvest time yet, but you can smell them on really hot days.”

Christie smiled and glanced at her feet, suddenly shy again.
 
She liked hearing him talk about his memories.
 
“So, you like the smell of rotting fruit?”

Adam laughed and the sound warmed her to the bone.
 
“Yeah, I suppose so.
 
That’s what I miss most about living here.”

“Not the indoor pool or the seven bedrooms practically made for an epic game of hide and seek?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.

Adam’s lips quirked at her dryness but he shook his head.
 
“Believe it or not, I wasn’t in the house much as a kid.
 
I liked being out here.
 
With the workers and with my father’s employees.
 
Bennett, who runs our winery, taught me all sorts of things.
 
Not about wine, but things like how to catch lizards and build little houses out of sticks and grape leaves.
 
Stupid kid stuff.
 
But it meant a lot.”

“It sounds like you really looked up to him.”

“I did.
 
I
do
.
 
I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up,” he confessed sheepishly.
 
“But all the workers indulged me.”

Christie couldn’t help it, although she’d learned by now that she had zero self-control around him.
 
Careful of her wine glass, she leaned up and pressed a series of small kisses to his lips.
 
Adam laughed in surprise, but wrapped an arm around her regardless.
 
Smiling into his mouth, she said, “I would’ve been your friend.
 
Without a doubt.
 
Tell me, did you have glasses growing up?”

“Yes.”

“Definitely would’ve been your friend.
 
I would’ve snuck kisses in too.
 
Lucky for you, I have a thing for glasses,” she whispered.

“Darn.
 
I wish I would’ve known you sooner.
 
You could’ve made my childhood a whole lot less awkward.”

Someone cleared their throat behind them and Christie gasped in surprise, spinning out of Adam’s arms.
 
Mrs. Thornton stood there with a small knowing smile.
 
But directly beside her was a man Christie could only assume was Adam’s father.

He had a rakish air about him.
 
His thick hair was the color of salt and pepper and he had hard, dark eyes that assessed her leisurely.
 
A crisp, white shirt, with the top two buttons undone, was tucked into his jeans.
 
There was no doubt that he was attractive, especially since she saw a lot of Adam in him.
 
But Christie suspected that Mrs. Thornton had her hands full with this one.

“And you must be Christina,” he greeted, grinning.

“Christie,” she corrected, stepping forward to offer her hand.

“My apologies.
 
I’ve never been any good with names.
 
Faces I remember.
 
But never names,” he told her.
 
His handshake was strong and warm, but Christie was relieved when they separated.

“That’s quite alright,” she reassured him.

His attention turned to his son and he nodded at Adam.
 
“Haven’t seen you in a while, Son.
 
You look well.”

“Thanks.
 
You too, Dad,” was Adam’s short reply.

“Well, shall we all sit?”
 
Mrs. Thornton chimed in, cutting through the sudden tension.
 
“Charlie’s bringing our dessert out here because it’s such a wonderful evening.”

They all followed her to the outdoor patio set.
 
Adam and Christie took the love seat whereas Mrs. Thornton and her husband took separate chairs opposite them.
 
There was an awkward silence for a moment, the first time Mrs. Thornton seemed to be at a loss for words.
 
Or perhaps she just didn’t feel like talking.
 
Adam certainly wasn’t going to start any conversations because he’d tensed up the moment his father arrived.

Christie was just about to open her mouth and ask about the vineyard, since that was the only topic she could think of.
 
But Adam’s father beat her to it.

“I must say that I’m surprised.
 
Adam’s never brought a girl home before.
 
How long have the two of you been together?”

Adam’s arm tensed next to her thigh.

“Oh, um,” Christie started, looking at Adam for support.

He took the hint.
 
“We’re just friends, Dad.”

“Oh,” he said in surprise.
 
He turned in his seat to look towards the edge of the patio, where he’d caught them embracing.
 
Christie flushed.
 
“Sorry.
 
I didn’t realize.
 
How did you two become
friends
then?”

Christie tried not to squirm.
 
But Mr. Thornton was downright intimidating.
 
Put on your big girl panties, Christie
.
 
She cleared her throat and said, “Through mutual friends.
 
My best friend, Olivia, is Alex’s girlfriend.
 
I met Adam shortly after they started dating.
 
About six months ago.”

“Alex Matlock?” his father said.
 
“That’s right.
 
I did meet his new girlfriend.
 
When was that?” he asked, turning to his wife.

“At his parent’s dinner party in January,” Mrs. Thornton supplied.
 
But something in her tone changed, becoming almost mocking.
 
Mr. Thornton’s eyes flashed and he looked away.