Seductive One

6

“That’s terrific,” Brenna said, going for a calm, yes-this-is-a-great-deal-for-both-of-us voice when what she really wanted to do was jump up and down, screaming like a teenage girl at a boy-band concert.

“I’ll have a truck there as soon as you’re ready. Absolutely.” She grinned. “I’ll put you down as getting a couple of bottles when the wine is ready. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

She hung up the phone and slapped her hands on the kitchen table. “I love it when a plan comes together.”

Still grinning and bursting with happiness, she recorded the information in the small Palm Pilot she’d bought the day after Nic had told her she was getting the loan. Three nights of cramming on the impossibly small device had brought her up to speed. She quickly entered the details on the Chardonnay grapes she’d just purchased, then cross-referenced them with the information on the Voignier already on order.

Using the calculator function, she estimated tons per acre, based on what she knew about the vineyards in question. Going against conventional wisdom, and her grandfather’s opinion on the subject, she would be taking the first part of the pressing for her cuvée. She wanted her blend to be so spectacular that critics would weep and customers would buy by the case.

“In a perfect world,” she murmured, entering the rest of the information, including how much she’d paid, and tapped in a note on the calendar reminding her to check the status of her grapes in a couple of days. She glanced at her watch and saw she needed to get back to the winery before anyone noticed she was gone.

She was just turning off her Palm Pilot when the back door opened and Katie walked into the kitchen.

“There you are,” her oldest sister said. “Look what I found lurking by my doorstep this morning.”

Brenna laughed when she saw Mia, her youngest sister, burst into the kitchen. As usual the eighteen-year-old was wearing too much makeup, belly-revealing clothes, and a navel ring.

Brenna stood and held open her arms. “Welcome home, Baby Sister.”

“Brenna!”

Mia flew toward her. Brenna braced herself for impact, then staggered back anyway when Mia’s hearty embrace turned into a collision.

“D.C. was so incredibly cool,” Mia said, then kissed Brenna’s cheek and sighed. “I met two cute White House aides, and when I told them about my broken engagement, they were thrilled to help heal my broken heart. Ah, summer love. But now I’m here and it’s great to be home.”

Brenna released her sister and laughed. “When did your heart get broken?”

Mia sniffed. “When I ended my engagement.”

Brenna looked at Katie, who shook her head.

“I don’t think your heart was even slightly cracked, let alone broken,” Katie said.

Mia grinned. “The White House aides didn’t have to know that. Besides, I liked all the sympathy.”

“You would,” Brenna said as she studied her sister’s pretty face.

Like Francesca, Mia was a blend of the two sides of their family. Her eyes were light brown, and while her hair was darker than Katie’s, it wasn’t as dark as Brenna’s, even without the blond streaks she painted in every couple of months.

Mia was the shortest of the sisters, as curved as Brenna, but without her tendency to gain in the hips.

“You look good,” she told her. “Travel agrees with you.”

Mia smiled her thanks, then her expression turned serious. “How are you? Getting over Dr. Dick?”

Katie winced. “Mia, you have the worst mouth.”

“Oh, right. Because you never say anything bad. Jeff’s a jerk. Screw him.”

“Actually I don’t believe that’s my job anymore,” Brenna said with a grin. “Not that it was ever that exciting.”

Katie chuckled. Mia offered a high five, then headed for the refrigerator. “Where’s Mom and the Grands?”

“In Santa Barbara. It’s their monthly lunch-and-shopping day. They’re going to be furious when they find out you showed up today.”

“They’ll get over it,” Katie said dryly. “I could barely fit all her luggage in the car. I think she’s moving back home.”

“Am not.” Mia pulled mozzarella and fresh basil from the refrigerator. “I’m staying until school starts. But I had to bring all my clothes.”

“Of course,” Brenna said. “You might be invited to a cotillion, and then what would you wear?”

Mia stuck out her tongue. “I’m starved. Where are the tomatoes?”

Katie glanced at her watch. “I really need to head back to L.A. I have meetings this afternoon.”

Brenna pulled several tomatoes out of the pantry. “You think the brat is going to let you go?”

“She’s right,” Mia said. “Come on, Katie. You haven’t seen me in weeks. Don’t you want to hear all about my life in D.C.?”

“I heard plenty on the drive up.”

“Okay, but now you can listen to me tell Brenna. The stories are even more interesting the second time around.”

Katie slipped off her suit jacket and hung it over a chair. “Why did I even bother trying?” she asked, then picked up the kitchen phone and dialed.

While she explained that she wouldn’t be returning to the office, Brenna removed fresh bread from a wooden box on the counter. She pulled several knives out of the drawer and passed one to Mia.

“So what did you learn?” she asked as she began slicing tomatoes.

“Tons. Japanese is a really interesting language. Verbally I do great. I can speak and understand, although my accent sucks. But the written language is so tough. All those characters. I passed and everything, but I felt like a moron the whole time.”

Brenna put the tomatoes on a plate, alternating the thick slices with thin pieces of mozzarella Mia passed her way.

“She graduated top in her class,” Katie said as she hung up the phone.

“Smart and beautiful,” Mia said with a wink. “Kinda makes you want to hate me, huh?”

“I find your modesty to be your real defining characteristic,” Brenna told her.

Katie opened the refrigerator and looked in several plastic containers. “Pasta salad, some kind of chicken dish.” She sniffed the leftovers. “Chicken Marsala, I think.”

“That’s it,” Brenna said. “We had it a couple of nights ago. I’d rather have pasta salad.”

“Me, too,” Mia said.

Mia finished with the cheese. After taking a bowl out of a cupboard, she collected olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and garlic to make a dressing. Brenna used kitchen scissors to cut up the basil.

“So what about this guy Francesca’s engaged to?” Mia asked. “I was barely gone for what, two months, and she’s getting married? And the whole pregnancy thing. I can’t believe she got pregnant.”

“I think Francesca is still getting used to that one, although she and Sam are both thrilled,” Katie said with a laugh.

“So does the thought of a new generation being born take the heat off you or make it worse?” Mia asked.

Katie shook her head. “I’ve already announced no babies for at least a year.”

Brenna laughed. “But they’re not listening.”

“Figures.” Mia wrinkled her nose. “So what’s Sam like?”

“I’d say the perfect man for our perfect sister. He also has a great daughter. Kelly. She’s twelve.” Brenna sprinkled the basil on the plate, then passed it to Mia.

“Since when did you have an interest in kids?” Mia asked.

“I always wanted them. Jeff was the one who said we had to wait. As much as I would like one now, I’m glad we didn’t have any. It would have made the divorce a lot more complicated.”

Mia poured the dressing over the cheese and tomatoes. While Brenna carried plates and flatware to the table, Katie set out a bowl of pasta salad, the bread, butter, and several kinds of sliced salami and ham. Mia slid the tomatoes and cheese plate into the center, then grabbed cans of soda for them.

“Looks good,” she said as she sat down. “I loved the restaurants in D.C., but after so long away, I’m ready for the Grands’ cooking.”

Brenna sat across from Mia. Katie sat at the head of the table. Mia used a fork to spear tomato and cheese onto her plate, then reached for the bread. “So what else has been happening while I was gone?”

Katie shot Brenna a “let me” look. “Not much. Well, except that it turns out that Brenna slept with Nic Giovanni and got a million-dollar loan from him to start her own winery.”

Mia froze in the act of biting into a piece of bread. Her eyes widened and the color fled her cheeks.

“Shut up!”

Katie made an X over her left breast. “Swear on Grandma Tessa’s rosary.”

Brenna spooned pasta salad onto her plate. “It was ten years ago.” She looked up and grinned. “The sex. The loan is recent. As wonderful as I may think I am in bed, I have to admit I doubt I’m worth a million bucks.”

“I don’t know what to ask about first,” Mia admitted when she’d chewed and swallowed her bread. “The sex or the winery. I can’t believe you slept with him and didn’t tell me. I hate being the youngest. I never find out anything good until years later.”

Katie raised her eyebrows. “Obviously she decided the sex was more interesting than the money.”

“Apparently,” Brenna said. “Don’t get your panties all in a bunch. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I’ll bet he was great,” Mia said with a sigh. “Nic always looked like he knew his way around female anatomy.”

“We’re eating,” Katie protested.

“Oh, right. Because you and Zach never pushed aside dinner to do it on the table,” Mia grumbled.

Katie blushed slightly, but didn’t respond.

“Just like I thought.” Mia looked triumphant, then turned her attention back to Brenna. “You’re starting your own winery? For real?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Brenna said. “Grandpa Lorenzo and I are arguing about everything. Working with him is a nightmare. Between how much he hates all my ideas and the recent discovery that we have a long-lost brother-the male heir our grandfather has always wanted-I figure my chances of inheriting are somewhere between ‘unlikely’ and ‘it ain’t gonna happen.’”

“But your own label?” Mia sounded both impressed and terrified. “A million dollars?”

“Absolutely. I came up with a great business plan, but I couldn’t get any of the banks to listen. They wanted to know why Grandpa Lorenzo wasn’t backing me himself. I didn’t want to go to Mom and Dad for the money because they live here and it would have been awkward for everyone. So I went to Nic and he said yes.”

She still had trouble believing it was all coming together for her. “He’s loaning me crushing and pressing equipment. It’s old-he’s replaced his system with a state-of-the-art facility that is to die for. The crusher is-”

Mia held up her hands. “Spare us your ode to the grape crusher. The point is, that’s a lot of money.”

“I’m already spending it,” Brenna admitted, feeling a little terrified herself. Although it was a good kind of terror-sort of an “I can’t believe my dreams are coming true” tension. “I’m buying four acres of perfect Pinot growing land down by the coast. I have barrels on order, grapes coming in. Two years from now, I’ll have my first wine out in the world. In three I’ll be making it.”

Mia looked a little dazed. Still, she raised her soda can. “Wow. To Brenna and her new adventure. May you only ever sleep with men as sexy as Indiana Jones.”

“And Nic,” Katie added as she raised her glass. “After all, he’s real.”

“That’s right.” Mia picked up her fork. “So, Brenna. Ten years after the fact, does our dishy neighbor still get your motor humming?”

Brenna thought about her recent encounters with Nic and how after less than thirty seconds in his company she’d been ready to revisit the delights of the past in a very physical way.

“There seems to be some attraction,” she said cautiously.

Mia hooted. “Some? You’re lying. I can tell with my eyes closed.”

Katie leaned forward. “So it’s still there? The chemistry?”

Brenna nodded unhappily. “In a way I wish it weren’t. I’m having some self-control issues. It doesn’t matter, though. For one thing, I don’t know if the feelings are mutual.” Although she kind of thought they might be.

“For another,” she said, making her voice more firm, “Nic and I now have business together. That changes everything. I can’t sleep with the guy who loaned me a million dollars. It would be too weird.”

“Good point,” Katie said.

“What is wrong with you two?” Mia asked. “You don’t have to actually have sex with him to enjoy the experience. That’s what fantasies are for.”

Brenna grinned. “Sometimes, Mia, I like the way you think.”

Just after sunset Brenna turned into the driveway leading to Wild Sea. Ahead of her, a truck pulled to a stop in front of the old building that housed the equipment Nic had loaned her. Brenna parked off to the side and climbed out into the cool evening.

Her heart beat fast and she was having trouble catching her breath, but for once her reactions weren’t about being around Nic. She was really going to do this-she was about to take the first step on the road to making Four Sisters Winery a success.

She hurried toward the building and pulled open the wide double doors. The inside smelled musty, with the scent of previous harvests lingering along with the dust motes. The last rays of sun spilled in from high windows, bathing the ancient equipment in a patina of worn gold. Nic had told her he’d had all the machinery scrubbed out, and she’d already checked that everything functioned, so she could get right to work tonight.

Reverently she ran her hands over the crusher. Excitement flared inside of her. For the rest of her life she would remember this moment, she told herself. Years from now when someone asked where it had all begun, she would recall this night.

“Where do you want them?”

She looked up and saw two men carrying in baskets of grapes. She pointed to the open floor space and helped them arrange the baskets in rows. Twenty minutes later the truck was unloaded and the men left.

Brenna stood alone, surrounded by the best Chardonnay grapes she’d been able to purchase. The scent of the fruit offered a hint of what could be. Possibilities, she thought, picking a grape and biting into it. Making wine was always about possibilities.

The grape was firm, tart, with a hint of sweetness. She let the juice linger on her tongue, absorbing the layers of flavors, imagining the taste in a year and a half when fermentation and oak and time combined to work magic.

“But first there’s plenty of work,” she murmured aloud, before loading the crusher.

She worked quickly, then flipped the switch. The machinery began to clink and grind, slowly crushing the grapes before they were moved into the presser. As the mixture traveled, she checked the temperature. If the grapes heated too much, they would begin fermenting as early as the pressing stage, which would be a disaster. But the weather was on her side. The day had been unseasonably cool, with a fog that never lifted. Her grapes were slightly chilled and a little damp.

She hurried to the far end of the presser and made sure the first vat was in place. After pressing, the grapes would settle, allowing sediment to sink to the bottom of the vats. That was as far as she would get tonight.

Tomorrow there would be more grapes. The process would continue through late September and harvesting of the Cabernet.

As the crushed mixture moved through to the presser, the smell of grapes grew stronger. Even with the doors open and a slight breeze drifting into the building, the sweet aroma became almost intoxicating.

She had just loaded another basket of grapes into the crusher when she heard footsteps on the cement floor. Instantly her heartbeat quickened with anticipation. Brenna found herself smiling even before she turned to see who had joined her.

“How’s it going?” Nic asked as he walked over to stand next to her. “I saw the truck pull in.”

She motioned to the clanking equipment. “This is it. The beginning.”

He grinned. “I thought about bringing champagne to celebrate, but that seemed like overkill.”

“Probably, but I appreciate the thought.”

“Nervous?” he asked.

“A little. I’m using this batch for my blend. They’re premium grapes and I know I’m right to do this, but I can’t help feeling apprehensive.”

“Bucking convention is never easy.”

“Not to mention the fact that I can hear my grandfather’s voice in my head as he yells at me for wasting the best grapes.”

“Need earplugs?”

She shook her head. “Just a little more time doing my own thing. I’ll get over it.”

He was standing close enough that she could see the stubble darkening his jaw. Nothing unusual there, she told herself. Many Italian men had heavy beards. Nic was simply one of those guys who had to shave in the evening before going out on a date. But this wasn’t a date and he hadn’t shaved and she found herself remembering how that stubble had felt against her skin when they’d kissed. The combination of rough beard and soft lips had been unbelievably erotic. Damn. It was hell to have peaked sexually at the age of seventeen.

Nic walked around to the presser. “How much are you doing tonight?”

“All of it. I want it settling before I leave.”

He glanced at the baskets of grapes on the floor. “You’re going to be here until dawn.”

“Probably.”

“Did you work today?”

She nodded.

“Are you working tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Sleep is highly overrated.”

“I guess.” He headed for the door. “I’ll let you get to it.”

“Sure. Thanks for stopping by.”

Brenna watched him go, trying not to feel disappointed. This was her dream, not Nic’s. He had his own winery to run-and he got to do it during the day, like a normal person.

She glanced around the big, open room, at the wooden walls, the staircase, and the cement floor. There wasn’t a stick of extra furniture. She was going to have to dig up a desk and maybe even a radio, she thought. Otherwise the nights were going to get incredibly long.

Fifteen minutes later she checked the level in the presser. The crushed mixture filled the big container. As she watched the process, she imagined what it would be like eighteen months from now when she would see the finished wine filling bottles. Maybe she would invite her sisters to come by and they could have a party.

A clunking sound made her turn. Nic had returned with a couple of folding chairs and a box.

“You’re not going to make it all night without coffee,” he said, putting the box on the floor.

She saw a coffeemaker along with cups and a big bottle of water.

“I’ll supply the grounds for tonight, but after that, you’re on your own.”

“Fair enough.”

She tried not to read too much into his friendly gesture, or the fact that he’d brought two chairs. If Nic stayed, that would be nice. If he didn’t, she would survive.

Nice, she thought as she picked up the coffeepot and carried it over to a wall plug. Nice? Right. Who was she kidding? Being around Nic wasn’t nice, it was exciting and terrifying. It was like swimming with electric eels. She never knew where the shock was coming from. A sensible woman would stay out of the water. Funny, she’d been sensible once, when she’d married Jeff. And look where that had gotten her.

Nic cradled his coffee mug. It was sometime close to midnight and he knew he should head back to the house. Still, instead of standing, he stretched out his legs and watched as the first of the juice flowed from the presser into the waiting vat.

Brenna danced anxiously around the equipment as if she could make the process go smoothly by sheer force of will alone. Her brown eyes glowed with an intensity he envied. This mattered to her. She would be involved from the loading of the grapes into the crusher, through bottling the last drop of wine. If she had time, he would bet that she would be out hand cutting every single grape.

Wild Sea was important to him, but he no longer had the same intimate contact with his wine. The company was too big. While there were vineyards he controlled personally, the majority had managers who handled the day-to-day details. He checked on the process, but he didn’t have a hand in every bottle they produced.

That’s what comes from doubling the size of the company, he reminded himself. If all went according to plan, he would soon be adding Marcelli Wines to his holdings.

“Have you picked a name?” he asked.

Brenna looked up. “Four Sisters Winery.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was and wasn’t able to stop himself from stiffening.

“What?” Brenna asked.

“Nothing. Great name.” He shrugged. “Family was always important to you.”

Now it was her turn to look uncomfortable. He waited to see if she would say anything, but she didn’t.

“Did I ever tell you how Wild Sea got its name?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “No one has ever told me.”

“The original plan had been to name the wineries after the family name. Your great-grandfather did that with Marcelli Wines, but Salvatore had a change of heart. In the 1920s there was only one way to come to America and that was by boat. It seems the crossing was very rough and my great-grandfather thought they were all going to die.”

Brenna winced in sympathy. “I guess they didn’t have great stabilizers back then.”

“Probably not. According to my grandfather, Salvatore made a deal with the sea. He promised to name his winery after it if it didn’t swallow them up.”

Brenna smiled. “I never thought of your great-grandfather as the whimsical type.”

“I don’t think he was, but fear does strange things to people.”

She sat next to him and sighed. “Sometimes I think it would have been very exciting to be alive back when Salvatore and Antonio started the wineries. All the promise of the future was in front of them.”

He didn’t point out that the first couple of years would have been filled with backbreaking work as the soil was prepared for the vines. No doubt there had been plenty of trips to church to pray for blessings and maybe even a miracle or two.

“I have my great-grandmother’s diary,” he said. “Sophia started it about five years before she married Salvatore and came here.”

“You’re kidding!”

He shook his head. “I’ve been reading it in bits and pieces. She talks about a lot of things, including Salvatore’s particularly unromantic proposal. When he returned to Italy, he was considered successful. The match was arranged without anyone asking Sophia her thoughts on the matter. She didn’t complain about that in her diary, but she did mention she was eager to see America. At least I think that’s what she said. My Italian is lousy. She could have been talking about the laundry instead.”

Brenna laughed. “I doubt that. Women usually don’t discuss laundry in their diaries. Not that I could tell you for sure. My Italian is worse than awful. Why are you reading her diary?”

“I found it when I was going through my grandfather’s things a couple of years ago. I pick it up from time to time and translate a page or two.” He shrugged. “It’s slow going. Plus I’m a present and future kind of guy, so the past isn’t that interesting to me.”

Brenna’s humor faded. “I’m sorry about your grandfather. I wanted to come to the funeral, but I knew having a Marcelli there would cause a lot of talk and distract from the real purpose.”

“Thanks, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

Brenna raised her eyebrows. “Of course it mattered. He was your family.”

“Is that what it’s called?”

She winced. “I know he was mad before, when you left, but after you came back…” She swallowed. “Didn’t things turn out all right between you? He left you the winery.”

“I’m the only living Giovanni left. Who else would inherit?”

She looked away. Nic thought he read guilt in her body language. She was the reason he and his grandfather had become estranged in the first place. He considered pressing the point, but decided it had been too many years and too many miles. What did talking about all that now matter?

Silence filled the large room. Brenna shifted in her seat, then offered a shaky smile. “How’s Max?”

Nic sipped his coffee. “Good. He’s housebroken, as promised. I’m currently working on his need to chew everything he can find. I also want to get him into an obedience program.”

“Because at least one living creature in your life should come when called?”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

Brenna stood and checked the presser.

“When do you get more grapes?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“You’re going to have to put your personal life on hold until harvest is over.”

She laughed. “That would only be a problem if I had one, which I don’t. I’m only interested in getting the winery up and running. Besides, I have my family around if I ever get lonely.”

“You always did, but I was talking about something else. Haven’t you bothered replacing your husband with a boy toy?”

“So not my style.” She tilted her head. “Actually, I don’t know that I have a style when it comes to men, but younger isn’t it. If there were a man in my life, I’d want him to be older. Experienced. What about you? Any potential Mrs. Nic’s around?”

“Not at the moment.”

“So we’re both at romantic loose ends.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then slapped her hand against her forehead. “Forget I said that.”

He would like to, but it was too late. Tension sparked to life, filling the room and getting his attention. A smart man would change the subject, or leave. Funny how he only wanted to explore the possibilities. Playing with fire?

Not fire, he reminded himself. Fire would imply a need and he didn’t have that. Anything he felt was simply mild interest. Blood heated and stirred. Okay, mild sexual interest, but nothing more. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

Brenna turned and moved to check the vat. Somehow Nic found himself on his feet, walking toward her. The smell of the grapes surrounded them, reminding him of all those times they’d made love in the Wild Sea Winery. They’d done it in this very room. Did she remember?

She turned and found him standing next to her. Brenna didn’t jump, but she looked uneasy. He studied her eyes, searching for an awareness that matched his own. He found caution and desire.

“It’s, um, really late,” she said. “You don’t have to stay and keep me company.”

“I know.”

He found himself wanting to push her. Or was he pushing them both? Was he testing to see how much attraction still flared between them? Was he trying to punish her?

“Nic.”

His name lingered on her lips, forcing his attention to her mouth. He reached for her and lowered his head at the same time. She could have backed away, but she didn’t. Instead she stood still as he kissed her, softly, gently.

It was an innocent kiss. Their mouths remained closed and, except for his hand on her arm, there wasn’t any body contact.

He waited for some hint of what had existed before. A flare of heat, a spark of some uncontrolled need. But there wasn’t any of that. Kissing Brenna felt-

Hot, thick, and heavy desire slammed into him. He nearly staggered from the impact of the blow. A hunger so deep it gnawed down to his soul grew exponentially until it threatened his ability to maintain control. Aching need exploded, blocking out every thought, rational or not. He wanted with a fury that left him barely standing.

He parted his lips and deepened the kiss. For a nanosecond he thought she wouldn’t respond, that he would be forced to take what he needed more than his next breath. But then she moved against him and her mouth opened. His tongue brushed against the sweetness of her lower lip before slipping inside.

She welcomed him with a hot, aggressive kiss that told him she felt it, too. The taste, the fiery wanting building inside of him, the pressure of her body against him, were all familiar. Passion spiraled between them, as it always had-frantic, desperate, amazing. She clung to him, straining to get closer. He rested his hands on her back and explored her from shoulders to hips, relearning her body. At the second he dropped his hands to the curve of her rear, she flexed forward, bringing her belly in contact with his erection.

His first thought was that they could do it on one of the chairs. He would sit down and she would straddle him. They’d done it that way before, and if his memory was anything to go by, it had worked like a charm. His second thought was that if she kept rubbing against him, he was going to lose it right there-something he hadn’t done since he was about fourteen. His third thought was what the hell was he thinking?

Brenna pulled back at the exact second he released her. They were both breathing hard. He didn’t doubt that the fire flaring in her eyes matched the heat in his own. Her gaze dropped from his mouth to his hard-on, then made a quick return trip. She half turned away and cleared her throat.

Nic found himself both aroused and furious. Not the safest combination. He knew why he wanted her, but he didn’t want to think about why he was pissed off. The anger surprised him. He didn’t want to know what it meant, so he ignored it.

“I should go,” he said abruptly.

Brenna nodded without looking at him.

Nic headed for the door, then hesitated. He wanted to say something, but right now there weren’t any words. He swore under his breath and walked into the night.

The hours after midnight had turned cold. He waited for the decrease in temperature to do something to ease his arousal, but blood continued to pulse painfully in time with his rapid heartbeat.

Okay, the passion shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. It had always been there between them. As long as he was aware it was a possibility, he could control it. Would control it. Tonight he’d been caught off guard, but that wouldn’t happen again. The anger was something else, though. He should be over the past. He wouldn’t let it control him. Not ever.

As he walked to the house, he reminded himself that he had a plan. That’s all this was. Playing with Brenna was a side benefit. He wouldn’t let it be more. He wouldn’t let her matter. Not again.