Autumn in the Vineyard (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) by Adair Marina

Author:Adair, Marina [Adair, Marina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2013-10-28T23:00:00+00:00

They were still arguing.

Frankie lay on her kid-sized bed, in her kid-sized room. The one that she begrudgingly moved into last week when she’d come out of the shower to find Nate sprawled out across the master bed. His hands folded behind his head, sexy-man smile dialed to high—his underwear neatly folded and tucked in the dresser drawer.

With her feet propped up against the wall, head hanging off the end of the mattress, Frankie let out a frustrated sigh. She’d been there for a good fifteen minutes, staring at a dust bunny tumble back and forth across the floor as the breeze brushed through the open window.

After her shower, a cold one, which she had deliberately drawn out by washing her hair twice and meticulously shaving her legs, she heard heated words being thrown in the kitchen so she’d barricaded herself in her bedroom.

Not that it mattered. She was still so turned on that her breasts felt heavy against the cotton of her t-shirt and she could still taste him on her lips. To make matters worse, even through the closed door and hallway separating them, she could sense Nate, and hear every single word spoken.

“I was just about to hand Tanner his ass,” Trey said. The youngest DeLuca was equal parts playboy and hothead, the worst combination in Frankie’s book, which was why she usually wanted to punch him. “Then your girlfriend walked in—”

“Frankie’s not my girlfriend, we’re just living together. As friends,” Nate clarified. In case anyone in the room still had concerns about their relationship, he added, “As in we’re not sleeping together.”

Someone cleared their throat.

“You know what I mean.”

Frankie mentally shrugged.

He was right, they weren’t dating. They hadn’t even made it to the touching portion of the evening, but for some reason her stomach pinched a little at his dismissal. She gave it a rub and decided that she was only hungry.

“From what I saw, I can attest that there was no sleeping going on.” Frankie strained her ears and then decided that it was Marc talking. Some sort of scuffle followed, glasses sliding, chairs scraping against the floor, a loud clank and then, “I wasn’t done with that.”

“Then learn how to use a coaster. Or better yet, go home and destroy your own house.”

Frankie smothered a laugh. Nate, she’d come to realize over the past week, was as anal about his living space as he was about his loafers. She would find her books, receipts, dirty dishes, all magically organized and in their correct place. He’d even taken to folding her clothes. She was more of a toss the clean clothes in the basket and dig through as needed kind of girl. But yesterday she’d come home to find her basket not in its usual spot—the floor of the guest bathroom—but perched on the foot of her bed, her clothes neatly folded. Even her underwear had been organized by color.

Never one to turn her back on a friend in need, Frankie had made a habit of dropping her things at random just to give him something to do.

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