“You’re manhandling me like you’re gonna kick me out of here, son,” he says when I push him into a seat. Thank God this table is empty. I don’t need him spouting off to other guests.

“Just trying to help you out, Dad,” I say through my clenched teeth. Glancing around, I check to see if anyone is watching, specifically anyone from the media, but for the most part, no one’s acknowledging us.

Thank God.

“Mr. DeLuca! It’s a pleasure meeting you.” Bryn appears in front of the table, an angel in magenta clutching a white coffee mug. The smile on her face is as bright as her eyes, and she shoots me a knowing look before she returns her attention to my father.

“Well, well, who’s this pretty young thing?” Dad takes the mug from her and sips, wincing when he discovers what it is. “Coffee?”

“Decaf. And laced with whiskey.” She winks at him, then winks at me, and I know she’s full of absolute crap, just saying that to make him happy. God, I could hug her for this. Kiss her.

Not that I need an excuse to kiss Bryn. My body is still humming from our shared kisses.

“Thank you,” Dad says gratefully as he drinks from the cup, finishing off half of it in a couple of swallows. “It’s good.”

“Miss James is notorious for making the best cup of coffee around,” I say, hoping she can hear the gratitude in my voice.

“You know her, son?”

“She’s my assistant.” I wave a hand between them. “Dad, this is Bryn James. Bryn, this is Vinnie DeLuca.”

“Lovely meeting you.” She takes Dad’s proffered hand, literally batting her eyelashes at him. I swear I hear a hint of her Texas twang when she speaks.

And it’s sexy as hell.

“Likewise.” Dad won’t let go of her hand, and she has to tug out of his hold as discreetly as possible, not that he notices. “You’re a looker, darlin’. Where you from?”

“Why, Cactus, Texas, sir.” More batting of the eyelashes, her voice is syrupy thick with the accent. She’s flirting with my dad and I don’t know if I should be horrified or thankful.

She doesn’t really . . . want to flirt with him, does she?

“Well, what do you know, I met a hot little thing who lived near Cactus years ago, when I was on one of the farm teams. That was a long, long time ago though.” Dad grins, most likely reliving the memory and enjoying the hell out of it.

“I probably know her. Not many people ever leave Cactus,” she says.

“Miss James, can I speak with you for a moment? Privately?” I rest my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “You’ll be all right alone so you can eat, right Dad?”

“Of course. Go handle your business with your Miss James.” Dad waves a hand, cackling wickedly. “You sure are smart son, more than I give you credit for, hiring a looker like this one. I bet you chase her around your desk all the damn time, trying to get your hands on that ass. I know I would.”

Bryn stiffens, her expression frozen with shock. I see it happen right before my eyes. She looks at me, her gaze a little wild, her chest rising and falling with her accelerated breaths.

I have no idea why his words triggered that strong of a reaction, but, of course, my dad’s involved so what else is new? The man offends women—everyone—on a constant basis.

“Dad. Come on. Show the lady some respect,” I say, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dad starts digging into his food, not bothering to offer her an apology, and I feel like shit.

This night is going from bad to worse at a rapid pace.

Bryn

MATT STEERS ME to a dark corner a few feet away from the packed courtyard so we’re standing beneath a mighty oak that actually doesn’t have a string of lights wound through the branches. His expression is grim, his gaze contrite as he turns to face me.

“I’m sorry.” He runs a hand over his face, looking downright traumatized. “My father is an asshole, and I can’t believe he said those things to you.”

“It’s okay,” I say softly, my heart still panging from Vinnie DeLuca’s earlier words. They’d cut way too close to the truth, reminding me of my old boss.

And of how I haven’t changed a bit, even though I think I have. I fall into the same habits time and again, self-destructive to the point that I’m wondering if I seek this sort of attention out.

Was I so neglected as a child that I prefer any attention, good or bad?

“No, it’s not okay. You came sweeping in, handling everything perfectly and he still treats you like that. He’s awful.” Matt blows out a frustrated breath and rests his hands on his hips, staring out at the courtyard. The music has picked up the pace, and people are actually dancing. The wine is flowing and being praised; the grounds are still packed with people. The party is a huge success.

And here Matt stands, looking so desolate and sad all I can think about is how much I want to comfort him.

Don’t do it, Bryn. Not in public. He’ll probably freak.

Ignoring my inner voice’s protestations, I step closer to him and rest my hand on his chest. I can feel his heart pumping wildly beneath my palm, and I smile up at him, trying to offer reassurance. “He’s an old man stuck in his ways. Do you know how many of those types live in Cactus?”

He smiles. “I did notice you slipped into your Texan accent when you spoke to him.”

“I did? I didn’t even notice.” I smooth my fingers down the length of Matt’s tie, loving how firm and solid he feels beneath my touch. I wish I could see him na**d. I know he has a body to die for. I’ve seen him bare-chested and sexy as hell online, but I’d prefer to see the real thing. So I can get my hands all over his hot, hard flesh.

“I appreciate you trying to help me,” he says, his voice low and sexy, igniting that flicker of desire that always seems to burn within me when he’s near into a full-on flame. “You were great with him. Even when he started insulting you.”

A soft huff of laughter escapes me. “I know how to handle guys like your father. I’ve dealt with them a lot.” Too much. It’s like I can’t ever escape them.

He steps away from me, and I drop my hand, pushing aside the sadness that nips at me. I’m acting like a girlfriend when I need to remember my place. I work for him. I’m his assistant.

That’s it.

“I’ll ask Archer or Gage to spend time with him for a while and keep him entertained,” Matt says, his mouth grim. “They know how to handle him. They have before.”

“I can do it,” I say, wincing the moment the words leave me. Why did I volunteer myself to sit with Vinnie DeLuca? Am I crazy?

Yes, crazy for your boss and looking for any way to please him.

“No way.” He shakes his head, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s desperate. And I if I can ease his stress by babysitting his dad, then so be it.

Even though I’m totally taking a chance here. From what I can see in just the few minutes I’ve spent in Vinnie’s company, he’s beyond obnoxious.

“I can handle your father. I’m a lot tougher than I look,” I say, wanting him to agree so I can prove I can handle anything he throws my way.

“I don’t know . . .” He rubs his chin, his gaze full of doubt.

“Let me do this for you,” I whisper, swallowing hard the moment the words leave me. Why do I want to please him so bad?

Because you like him, silly.

A sigh escapes him and he shakes his head. “Listen, if he’s rude to you or gets out of control, find me, and I’ll take care of him. I’ll keep my eyes on you too and make sure he doesn’t try anything crazy.” He studies me, just waiting for me to bail on him I’m sure.

But I won’t. I’m doing this—for him.

“He’ll be fine. And I don’t mind. Really.” Well, I sort of do, but I’ll do anything to ease Matt’s burden, especially tonight. “I can sit with him, hopefully sober him up and maybe convince him to leave? Is that what you’d prefer?”

I see the guilt and the worry swirling in the brown depths of his gaze. I get it. My grandma is crazy. I adore her, but I wouldn’t want her out in public with me, especially on a night as big as this. She’d embarrass the hell out of me.

“Yeah. Actually, I would. I sound like an ass, wanting to get rid of my dad, but if you can subdue him and somehow convince him he needs to go, that would be perfect,” he finally says.

“I’ll do what I can.” I turn and start to head back to the table where Vinnie is sitting when Matt grabs my hand and tugs me back toward him.

“Thank you.” He lifts my hand and presses a soft, damp kiss to the back of it. My knees wobble when I see the glow in Matt’s gaze as he studies me. “For everything.”

“Y-you’re w-welcome,” I stutter. I can hardly think when he’s touching me, looking like he wants to devour me, let alone talking to me. No man has ever made me feel quite like this before.

“We’ll talk in a bit, all right? I need to socialize and schmooze,” he says as he slowly releases my hand.

“Fine. Makes sense. I’ve heard nothing but good things from everyone I’ve talked to, I promise. DeLuca Winery is a big hit.” I offer him a quick smile before I flee, going to the table where Vinnie sits munching on one appetizer after another. He spots me, his eyes lighting up, and he pats the empty chair beside him.

“Come sit by me, girly. Want a glass of wine? Some food?” He pushes his plate toward me like he’s going to share it as I sit down next to him.

“No, thank you,” I say, laying on the sweetness. May as well play it up and entertain the old booger for a while. The last thing I want to do is drink with the already drunk Vinnie, and I’m not really hungry since nerves are still eating at my stomach.

“How long you work here for Matt?” Vinnie asks amicably.

“Well, I was working for the winery before Matt purchased it. I was the assistant of the other owner. We all thought we’d lost our jobs but then Matt asked us to attend a staff meeting. When he announced that he wanted to keep us all working for him, we were so grateful. We’ve been loyal to him ever since,” I explain, remembering how big and strong and handsome I thought he looked that day. Sweeping in and making his grand declarations, and better yet? Actually keeping his word. I’d wanted to fall at his feet and weep in gratitude, I’d been so thankful.

And I know I wasn’t the only one who felt that way either. Men who’d worked in the vineyard for the previous owner’s family for years were incredibly thankful for Matt’s generosity as well. It’s why we all work so hard for him. He shows us respect, and we show it right back.

“That was a good thing my boy did,” Vinnie says with a firm nod. “Keeping you all here working for him. Everyone loves my Matthew. Every once in a while, he has a bit of goodness in his heart.”

“He’s a good boss,” I agree, wondering how his dad can both praise Matt and knock him down all in one sentence.

“Even though he don’t know shit about wine,” Vinnie mutters, making me stifle a laugh. “What? It’s true and you know it, girly. I bet he’s been scrambling since he bought this place trying to learn everything he can.”

His dad wasn’t too far off the mark with that assessment. “What he lacks in knowledge, he makes up for in enthusiasm.”

“Now that was a diplomatic answer.” Vinnie grins and points at me. “I can see why he kept you on. Not only do you look real good, you sound good too.”

“Thank you. I think.” I glance around, looking for Matt, and spot him standing with a group of people who seem to be enthusiastically chatting him up.

Good. He doesn’t need the stress his dad brings him while worrying if anyone is impressed with the wine. Not that I ever doubted he’d succeed, but he’s been on edge for days. Weeks. Months.

Probably why he kissed you. Needed an outlet for all that nervous energy and you were the perfect distraction.

The thought comes upon me so quickly, I go still as I turn it over again and again in my head. Could that really be the reason why he kissed me? A way to unleash all that edgy energy he’s been living on for the last few weeks?

God, I hope not.

“So can I ask you a question, pretty lady?”

Vinnie’s voice reminds me what I’m supposed to be doing, and I turn to look at him, a tentative smile on my face. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Are you f**king my son?”

Chapter Eight

Bryn

MY MOUTH IS completely dry as I gape at Matt’s father, shocked that he would say such a crude and horrible thing.

They have similar features, Vinnie and Matt. Same dark hair and brown eyes, though Matt’s are much kinder than Vinnie’s cold, almost mocking glare. His mouth is set in a firm line too, as if he doesn’t smile much.

I bet he doesn’t. It seems he’s got a mean streak in him a mile wide.

“Well? Cat got your tongue or what? I can only take your silence as confirmation that yes, indeedy, you’re f**king my son,” he says. “The lucky bastard.”

Swallowing hard, I search for composure. The very last thing I want him to believe is that Matt and I are having some sort of illicit affair. I wouldn’t put it past this man to sell the story to whoever would listen if it brought him any bit of attention.

“Your son is my boss,” I finally say, my voice raspy, and I clear my throat. “That’s it. There’s nothing between us except a working relationship.”