"We weren't engaged," Grayson said, his voice steady and cold. Vanessa?
Diane waved her hand in the air. "Oh, well, we all knew you would be soon enough. Your mother told me you'd even bought a ring. And then—"
"Mom," Suzie said harshly from behind her. She smiled apologetically at both of us, pulling on her mom's hand.
"Ah, well, I'll see you around, I'm sure. Good evening," Diane Fernsby said, allowing her daughter to lead her away. When they had only moved a few steps from our table, Diane leaned toward her daughter and whispered none too quietly, "You dodged a bullet with that one, dear. An ex-con. I hear the vineyard is barely scraping by . . . After all the heartache he put his parents—" Her words faded as she moved farther away, but the sound of her tsk-tsking carried through the restaurant.
I waited until they had disappeared from sight before speaking. "Your wife?" I asked, keeping the small smile plastered to my face for appearance’s sake. "I thought you might just introduce me as Kira."
Grayson's jaw ticked once, twice, before he made a visible effort to relax, leaning back in his chair and regarding me. "You said we should make our marriage look real for the sake of preventing your father's suspicion. I just figured if word gets around town that I'm married, it couldn't hurt in that effort. Diane Fernsby is one of the biggest gossips in town."
"Oh . . ." I nodded. He took the credit card receipt from the waiter and began signing the slip. The Ice Prince was back. I felt unreasonably hurt. I wanted to be grateful he was putting some effort into making our marriage look real in public, but I knew he hadn't mentioned I was his wife for my sake, or because of my father. He'd mentioned I was his wife as a way to shut up Diane Fernsby. I had known he ran hot and cold, but we had been getting along so well before Diane Fernsby showed up and mentioned his ex. What was that all about anyway? Had some woman jilted Grayson? And where was she now? I wondered if she lived in Napa . . . if she'd hear about our marriage now. Ah well, I couldn't concern myself with my husband's personal life. No matter how physically tempting he could be, trying to read him was exhausting.
Grayson led me out of the restaurant to his truck. The comfortable mood we'd managed during dinner was gone, replaced by the awkwardness of Grayson's cold distance. But when we were both seated in the cab of his truck, he turned to me. "I'm sorry about that, Kira. I've lived in this town my whole life, and a lot has happened with my family in the last six years. People are curious, I suppose. I'm sorry I exposed you to it."
"Curiosity is different than blatant rudeness," I murmured, staring out the front window.
Grayson sighed. "I probably deserve their rudeness. As far as Napa is concerned, I'm a murderer and an ex-con. And I murdered a neighboring town's golden boy." I remembered the reading I'd done about his crime online. The boy who had died had lived in the nearby county of Sonoma.
I bit my lip, not knowing exactly what to say. "You didn't murder him, Grayson. It was an accident. You told me so yourself."
"And yet he's dead all the same."
"Do you want to talk about it? I'm a good—"
"No."
We sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute or two before he finally turned to me, his mouth curving in an ironic smile. "I know how to show a girl a good time, huh?"
I laughed out a small sound. "I'm sure all your other girls don't complain."
Grayson grimaced slightly. "Sorry about that. Despite the fact that my stepmother was never overly fond of me, Diane wanted her daughter and me together. Suzie just—"
"Wasn't your type?" I raised an eyebrow.
Grayson chuckled. "Was always just a friend."
Speaking of women who were Grayson's type . . . "Grayson, who's Vanessa?"
Grayson didn't answer immediately, but I saw his shoulders tense. He continued to stare out the front window as he said, "Vanessa is my brother's wife."
"Oh." The word was more breath than sound. His brother had married his girlfriend—the woman he’d been planning to marry—while he was in prison? I winced, imagining what that must have been like for him. No wonder he didn't speak to his brother anymore. "I'm sorry, Grayson," I said, at a loss for what to say.
He nodded his head once, acknowledging my words, and then started the truck and pulled out of our parking spot. The ride home was mostly quiet, the radio playing softly in the background. When we pulled around the fountain and stopped in front of his house, Grayson turned to me. "Do you want a drink? I happen to own a bottle of wine that I have on expert authority is quite delightful."
I smiled. I was probably being foolish to care, but it seemed as if he didn't want to be alone. What could one drink hurt?
"Delightful, you say? I like delightful."
He laughed softly. We got out of the truck and I followed my husband inside his house.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grayson
"You know what we should do?" Kira suddenly asked, leaning forward abruptly, taking me by surprise. We were sitting on semi-rusted lounge chairs on the patio, a glass of wine in each of our hands. We had been sipping in comfortable silence, looking out over the covered pool—most likely murky and sludge-filled beneath. I had had every intention of trying to seduce her tonight. I didn't think it would be very hard—she had responded to my kiss earlier with such enthusiastic passion. But after what happened at the restaurant, I wasn't exactly feeling all that lustful.