“Which is exactly what I told you I had.”
“Yeah, but …”
“But what?”
“But it’s a vineyard!”
He’s full-on grinning now, like I’m the craziest thing he’s ever seen. “You already said that.”
“I know, but it’s—”
“A vineyard,” he finishes for me. “Yes. It is. And not that I’m not having a good time, but are we really going to do this all day?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. What else is there to do?”
“I could show you around, show you all the ‘wine-making stuff’ you were speaking of so eloquently. Or we could go into town, get some lunch. Maybe pick up some groceries.”
“What?” I ask him in mock outrage. “You don’t have a cook? Or someone to stock the house for you? I’m very disappointed in your king of the manor persona.”
“I do, actually, have someone to do all of that, but I was afraid you’d rag me about it if I asked her to do it. I wonder where I could possibly have gotten that idea?”
“I can’t imagine.” I stand on my tiptoes and give him a loud, smacking kiss on the mouth. “But I’m hungry, so food sounds like a good plan. Give me a minute to run a brush through my hair and maybe put on some lip gloss and I’ll be good to go.”
“Do you want me to show you to our room? I can give you a quick tour of the house.”
“I would love a tour. But my stomach’s growling and from out here the thing looks like an only slightly smaller version of the Palace of Versailles, so maybe we’ll wait on the tour until later. I’m not adverse to you pointing me toward the nearest restroom, though, if you don’t mind.”
“Your disdain for my wealth is truly impressive, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Almost as impressive as the wealth itself, huh?” I answer with a roll of my eyes.
“Oh, more so. Definitely more so.” Ethan’s laughing now, his blue eyes glowing as brightly as the low-hanging sun
right above our heads. It’s exactly the reaction I’m going for with my banter, considering I’m filled with guilt after the stunt I pulled last night. Not that I don’t think I had a right—have a right, because I’m still not over it if I’m being honest—to be upset, but I can’t stand the fact that I hurt Ethan. That my own issues made me lash out and damage him, when he’s done nothing but love me. Nothing but care for me to the best of his ability.
I’m still not sure how I’m going to get past the news that the man who raped me is one small step away from being a United States Congressman. Any more than I know how I’m going to live with the fact that—if he wins—the man I love helped put him there.
Oh, Ethan says it’s not going to happen. He says he’s working hard to ensure that Brandon never gets the chance to abuse his power again. But Ethan told me he did a lot of work for him before the last few weeks. He’s given him a lot of his own money, since family money doesn’t count as a campaign donation. He’s held a dozen fund-raisers for Brandon as he ran—and won—a seat on the state senate two years ago, almost straight out of college.
So even though he’s withdrawing his support now, much of the damage is already done. Or much of the success, depending how you look at it.
Maybe it’d be smarter to walk away. Actually, there’s no maybe about it. It would definitely be smarter. But not easier. And not better.
Not when I love Ethan the way that I do.
Not when I need him just to breathe.
He leads me through the house to the nearest bathroom, and though I’m intent on freshening up and getting out the door to eat, I can’t help being awed by the parts of the house I’m seeing. I thought nothing could be as perfect as Ethan’s La Jolla house, all high ceilings and huge picture windows in every room that make the most of the ocean views. But this place is just as beautiful, in a different way.
Whereas his La Jolla house is light and modern, this one is warmer, more ornate. With its antiques and elaborate furnishings and warm, cherrywood in every room, it should be a little over the top. But the decorator was brilliant and somehow knew exactly what he or she was doing so that each room seems elegant and warm instead of cold and overdone.
I can’t wait to explore—and maybe even match the La Jolla House for number of rooms we’ve made love in—but right now I’m definitely more interested in eating than I am anything else. Even sex with Ethan. And I never thought I’d say that. But I was too upset to eat lunch or dinner yesterday and since today started with a helicopter ride, after a twenty mile run, I think I’ve got a right to be famished.
A quick look in the mirror tells me that my six minute shower did me no favors this morning. My hair has dried in frizzy waves that make me look a little like a crazy person—okay, a lot—and my super late night followed by no makeup routine has left me with circles dark enough to look like actual bruises.
I’ve got to give Ethan credit that he even suggested taking me into town looking like this. I’m seriously one minuscule step away from scaring small children with a single glance.
After digging in my purse, I come up with a banana clip and a small bag of makeup. It’s more than I expected to find, to be honest, so I twist my hair up and then do the best that I can with some BB cream, lip gloss and mascara.