Up to Me (Shore Secrets) (24 page)

Going with the truth—that he’d deliberately waited for her to get off shift, then struck up a conversation with her in the parking lot to ask about the events department—would just lead to more questions Gray didn’t want to answer. Didn’t even want Ella to know that he’d asked. So he plastered on a wide-eyed grin and said, “I’m a friendly guy. Anyway, you know that historic schoolhouse out on Route One?”

“I know the one that used to be there before it burned down last week.”

“Exactly. Marian Derulo and Darrell Fridley were supposed to get married there on Memorial Day. I ran into them in the flower shop, when they were trying to come up with an alternative. I mentioned that the Manor was free, and they flipped out. Literally. Marian flipped her chair over backwards and hugged me.”

“I know the feeling.” Ella jumped up and threw her arms around Gray. “I can’t believe you hooked them up with us. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Whew. Good. Cause he’d offered up the Manor hoping it’d wring a positive reaction from her. Gray just hadn’t counted on one this enthusiastic. Not that he was complaining. It helped him ignore the stern voice in his head that warned him about staying objective. About not picking sides. About being a company man who put work first and foremost. The voice that said he’d just drawn a line in the sand—and then stepped way the hell over it. Straight into a pit of emotional quicksand.

Chapter Thirteen

Ella pressed her palms against the smooth leather of the car seat. Then she moved her hands beneath her jean-clad thighs. And considered running the entire multiplication tables in her head. Anything to soothe her jitters. Anything to distract her from a serious case of first-date-itis. That horrible mix of nausea, dry mouth, sweaty palms and rapid heartbeat that felt like the flu crossed with a minor pulmonary embolism. She didn’t know if men were immune, but women were struck down by it all the time. The only cure? Surviving the first date and moving on to a second.

She looked over at Gray. Took in his tousled hair, chiseled profile, and looked away again before suggesting they pull over and make out in the car like teenagers. Stared instead at the familiar landscape of fields and trees off to the right. “Where do you usually take women on a first date?”

“Whoa. Flag on the play.” He even threw in a long beep of the horn to drive home his point. “You can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Ask about other women.” Gray shook his head. “That’s not standard first-date material. That’s a conversational minefield couples try to avoid as long as possible.”

Whoops. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She tipped her head back against the headrest. Closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation of the wind whipping through the convertible. “You realize that makes me want to know even more. It’ll probably be the only thing I think about all night.”

“I’m not falling for it.”

“For what?” The car slowed, paused, turned. Ella didn’t open her eyes yet. She wanted to be wholly surprised when they arrived at their mystery destination. Gray’s choice of location for their first official date would reveal the kind of man he was. Sports bar equaled sports addict. Movie theatre indicated an utter lack of imagination. A super-fancy restaurant would say he was trying to impress her. And the local no-tell motel would just announce that he didn’t want to risk the maid walking in on them when they finally had sex.

“Your lame attempt at reverse psychology,” said Gray. “I don’t believe for a second that you’ll be unable to fully interact with me on this date just because I dodged your first question.”

“It’s possible. I can be very single-minded.” The car rolled to another stop. Sounded like it was on gravel. Ella tried to remember how many restaurants had gravel lots. And promptly came up with nothing. Who noticed if a parking lot was pavers or asphalt or gravel? More to the point, who cared?

“I’m insulted. Seriously. You ought to give me more credit.”

“About what?”

“My ability to focus all that single-mindedness on something else. This may be
our
first date, Ella, but it isn’t
my
first date. I know what I’m doing. I know how to show you a good time. How to focus your mind with the precision of a laser.”

Her eyes flew open as he drew a finger across the thin slice of her stomach exposed between her jeans and her lacy white tank. Ella wanted to look down, but was snared in his burning blue gaze mere inches from her. Back and forth went his finger. Slowly. Maddeningly slow. “Kiss me,” she demanded.

“No. Not yet.”

A breathy laugh escaped her. “Then stop teasing me.”

“No. Not yet.” Gray pushed a finger into one of the wide stitches in her hot pink crocheted cardigan. Tugged it off her shoulder. Traced a squiggly line from her collarbone up her neck to her ear, then back across to her shoulder. All this while still keeping up that slow and steady rhythm across her stomach. Ella couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t so much as twitch. At the same time, she desperately wanted to squirm about until his hands met somewhere in the middle.

“Are you ready for the first stop on our date now?” he asked.

So ready. Ready, truth be told, since that first afternoon she’d ogled him through the window as he jogged by. “Yes.”

“Do you give a rat’s ass about where I’ve been on other first dates?”

“No.”

“Then let’s get on with it.” Gray removed his hands and got out of the car. “I’ll save my
I
told you so
for later. I don’t want to spoil the moment by gloating.”

“You’re a real charmer,” she said as he circled around to her door.

“You mock me now, but I’ll bet your tune changes soon.” Gray opened the door and took her hand to help her out. “Here we are.”

It took Ella another second to shake off the tingles still fuzzing her brain. Or maybe it was surprise dulling her reaction. Because she stood in the parking lot of Cosgrove General, utterly befuddled. And she had no intention of politely trying to hide her confusion.

“You think this is an appropriate first date? What are we going to do—shop for Seneca Lake travel mugs and fill up on fudge?”

“Again, your lack of faith in me is appalling. Insulting. It may very well impact the awesomeness of the after-date necking I had planned.” Gray took her hand and led her across the road. To the mailbox. “I know you said you’d be fine going out with me no matter how the town voted in the journal. But I also know you’d feel a lot better if they did give us a green light. So I figured we’d swing by and check it out.”

Thoughtful. Romantic. Full of understanding and patience for this quirky tradition that he mocked but knew meant so much to her. Ella’s heart didn’t just fall. It tumbled. This man
got
her. In all the important ways. He’d made tonight oh-so personal and special with a gesture she’d never expected.

Then a niggle of suspicion sent her—as fast as she could go across grass in sky-high pink patent leather wedges—bolting in front to cut him off. “Did you pre-peek?”

“Nope. This visit’s kind of a crap shoot.” Gray sidestepped her and kept going.

She walked backwards, wanting to see his face as he answered. “What if the town gives the two of us a thumbs-down?”

“Well, you did already commit to tonight, no matter what.”

“And I’m sticking to that plan,” she reassured him. Gray still looked calm. Not at all tense about what the journal would reveal or her reaction to it. Actually, what he looked was movie-star handsome in that tan sport coat over a crisp white shirt open at the neck to reveal a tuft of dark chest hair.

“But I’m a pretty nice guy. Hit it off with most of the people I’ve met here. I’m not worried about what it says.”

Neither was Ella. Not much. Not that she’d admit, anyway. They scrambled up the slight slope to the clearing. Ella sat on the bench while Gray retrieved the journal. He hitched up his darker tan trousers and sat next to her. Instead of opening it, he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Ready?”

She nodded. “Ready to spend tonight with you, no matter what’s in here.”

“In that case, we can leave now, without even looking at it.”

Ella grabbed the journal from him and quickly flipped to the page with their questions. Used her finger to skim down one page, another, and then a third.

“Well?” he asked, impatience snipping the word harshly.

Aha. So Gray
was
curious. It’d be fun to draw this out a bit. Keep him guessing. Ella tilted the journal away from him. “Apparently you took the last Irish cream brownie at Cosgrove’s two days ago. Snatched it right out from under Hank Mitchell. So he’s pretty steamed at you. Thinks you’re too selfish to date any woman, let alone me.”

“Seriously?” He plowed his hand through his dark hair. “It’s not like the man tried to wrestle me for it. I was ahead of him in line.”

“Small towns can lead to deep grudges,” she intoned solemnly.

A wince. One that made her regret her offhand comment. “Don’t I know it.”

It wouldn’t be good to make him spiral back through memories of his horrible hometown. She’d stop teasing and get this date back on track. “The good news is that Hank’s in the minority. Overall the town is in favor of both me dating in general, as well as me dating you, specifically.”

“Whew. You had me sweating it there for a minute.” Gray whipped out a handkerchief and pretended to mop his brow. “I need an ego boost. Show me one of the good ones.”

Before she could stop him, he’d pulled the journal onto his lap and started reading. It didn’t take long for his brow to furrow. “These aren’t all about us dating. There’s more than a dozen complaints in here about your moving the party.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Exactly why Ella hadn’t wanted him to look. This was also not a light-hearted, sexy or fun first-date topic. All they needed now was a raincloud to open up directly above them. Maybe the whole of idea of trying to capture the magic of a first date after fourteen—because of
course
she’d been counting every breakfast, dinner, yoga and smooching encounter they’d shared—almost nonstop, official not-dates was stupid. Impossible.

Now they knew each other. Ella and Gray had spent more actual time together than most new couples did in six weeks. They’d started off by sharing deep, dark secrets. By baring their fears and inner demons. And they’d tantalizingly, almost had sex. The fizzy effervescence of a first date was like the swirl of vapor that escaped from a champagne bottle when the cork popped. Gone in an instant.

He stabbed a finger at the thick paper. “They’re really up in arms about this. Leona Miller called you an upstart little twit.”

“Mmm-hmm.” So now, instead of trying to seduce her, Gray had slapped on his serious face. Was probably about to launch into a
buck up
,
little camper
type speech. So what if he rocked at them? Ella wanted—no, deserved—a night full of glances that tried to peer down her boosted-up cleavage. A night where they laughed, and laughed some more. A frothy night, not an angsty, issues-debating night.

“I’m sorry, Ella.” His voice was low, earnest. The furrows in his brow seemed way too deep to be caused by a handful of pissed-off partygoers. Gray looked about two hundred percent more upset than she was. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re hurting.”

His grim seriousness was the equivalent of dumping prune juice into her champagne. Nobody wanted that. She elbowed him in the ribs. “Geez, Gray, you didn’t do anything. This was my decision. Get over yourself.”

A pause. Then he firmed his lips and tried again. “I don’t want your friends to be this mad at you.”

“Don’t worry. My friends aren’t. My friendly acquaintances...well, that’s another story. People need to vent. If they get it all out in the pages of the journal instead of unloading on me at work? I’d call that a good thing.”

“What about the name-caller?”

“Leona Miller says nasty things behind everyone’s back to everyone else. We’re all used to it. But she also delivers meals, free of charge, to people who have a family member in hospice care. Says she got so used to cooking for her six sons that once they left, she just couldn’t stop. She’s got a heart as big as the lake. So we put up with her sniping.”

“Sounds like it won’t be much of a party any more, though.”

“Are you kidding?” She dragged the journal back onto her lap. Scanned the entries once more. “Every one of these people has already RSVP’d yes. I told you. They’re just venting. We’ll have a great party. A blowout, like last year and all the years before it.”

He looked at her, confusion squinting his eyes. Then he gave a hoarse laugh and shook his head, turning to stare out at the lake. “This is an...unusual place you live in, Ella.”

Maybe. But it was all she knew, so it just felt normal. It was home. “We’re like one big family. We might squabble, but deep down our affection never wavers.”

“Like I said—unusual.”

“How about we go back to the usual? The usual first-date stuff, that is.” Jumping up, she stuffed the journal back in the mailbox and slammed the door. She didn’t want him to hang out here any longer looking for responses to his job question. They could talk about that at dinner.

“You mean the usual things like getting all nervous and tongue-tied around a pretty girl?” Gray teased as he took her hand and swung it between them while they walked back to the car.

“Please. You’ve never been tongue-tied a day in your life. You’re so sure of yourself. You know exactly what you want. Exactly how to get it. I’ll bet you’re never at a loss for words.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Ella pondered that as they resumed their drive along the lake’s edge. The gentle roll of vineyards, of tied branches along twine, just leafing out fully, mimicked the up and down of her thoughts. Gray had divulged his big, life-changing secret to her. It hadn’t been a walk in the park, but he’d been able to spit it out. So what was left? What situation could possibly leave him speechless? Was there still a dark cloud of pain or uncertainty that he hadn’t shared with her? And if so, why not?

Gray turned off the radio. Took her hand and slid his fingers through hers. “Let’s call the mailbox the overture. The Prologue. Batting practice. Our first date officially begins now.”

Ella took in the massive red-tiled, Italianate building in front of them. “You brought me to a winery?”

“That’s what the Finger Lakes is famous for, right?”

Ah. So he had listened to her tour-guide-esque spiel about the area. Or maybe it was osmosis. Prattle on long enough, and at least a little is bound to sink in, right? “Sure. But we’ve got more than thirty wineries around Seneca Lake alone. Sixteen more around Keuka Lake and another twenty-three on Cayuga Lake. How on earth did you choose Ventosa Winery?”

“I did my research.”

Laughter gurgled out of her. Ella almost tripped stepping onto the sidewalk. “You mean you sampled an average of six varieties at all thirty-six wineries? Then moved on to the next lake? You must’ve had the mother of all hangovers for the last week.”

One of his jet-black eyebrows arched up. Kind of matched his know-it-all sneer. “A good researcher doesn’t do all the legwork himself.”

Nope. He was too cocky. And she saw right through him. “Let me guess. You asked Ward.”

A sheepish shrug. “He knows the area.” Then, an assertive jut to his jaw. “He knows you, what you like. Ward said this is one of your favorite spots.”

“It is. I celebrated my twenty-first birthday here. Had my very first legal glass of wine. My parents went overboard, of course. They put wine into every single course. Wine-soaked figs for an appetizer. Red-wine risotto with the entrée. And, of course, a raspberry and champagne soufflé.”