HAPPY PANTS CAFE (THE HAPPY PANTS SERIES) (17 page)

“Lucky man,” Austin said sarcastically.

“Go ahead and poke fun, but he
will
be a lucky man. He’ll have a woman who is a loyal and devoted best friend. And he’ll get to have sex with me anytime he wants without the headache of having to get me in the mood or woo me.”

Austin swallowed something stuck in his throat. “So you don’t believe in foreplay?”

“Nope. Well, not every time. I think sex is a biological need. Like eating. So if you’re in a relationship, it’s your job to feed the other person what they want.”

“You are a very strange woman.”

She looked at him curiously. “You’re just realizing that?”

He
shrugged, eyes on the narrow road that cut between several vineyards.

“But you know what’s stranger?” she said. “That you think you’re going to find Mrs. Right by the end of the week.”

“God, no. I don’t think that. It takes time to determine if the other person is the right one. Not everyone is who they say they are when you first meet them.”

Bringing this up again, was he? “Austin, I said I was sorry. How long are you going to hold it against me?”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Oh. Then who?”

“Never mind.” He started to fiddle with the antique, silver radio knobs.

Never mind? Never!
It wasn’t in a reporter’s nature to let anything go. She’d simply need to wait until the right moment to pry the lid off of that little comment. In the meantime…

“All right,” she said, “
since you won’t be declaring your undying love for anyone this week, I need to ask you a favor.”

“Yes?”

“Basically, the paper’s owner was so upset that—”

“Uh-uh. I gave you a chance. I was willing to walk away from this story, but you insisted I stay.”

“Austin, you don’t under—”

“It’s too late. I already called my editor last night and told him about the story. It’s going full page as soon as I deliver it.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Is there a way for us to share the story? Each take turns interviewing Luci on different topics?” The moment those words left her mouth, she realized how stupid that idea was. Newspapers didn’t share or collaborate on stories. They competed.

Austin flashed
her a look. “Really, Harper?”

“No. You’re right. Not gonna work.” But she didn’t want to go up against Austin. That said
, what if losing wasn’t that big a deal to him. Maybe he really didn’t care as much as she did. “What if I get the story first?”

Again, he shrugged. “Doubtful.”

Smug ass!
“I know in your mind no one could ever beat you at anything, but humor me. What happens if I win?”

“My editor would be pissed since I already committed, but he’d get over it.”

Oh, good!
So it wasn’t the end of the world.

“But,” he added, “
it will affect that promotion I’ve been pushing for.”

Oh, crap.
Well, at least it wasn’t as bad as her situation. Her good friend would lose her job, and both of their careers would be over. Harper would have to go back to writing freelance articles for magazines and scraping by month to month. She certainly wouldn’t be able to afford her apartment in the city. Sure, over time, she’d be able to find a steady paid position, but it wouldn’t be working for a paper. It wouldn’t be her dream job.

She sighed.

“Don’t even think about trying to manipulate me with some sob story, Harper; that crap doesn’t work on me.”

She glared at him.
So damned thick-headed.

Just like you?

Maybe.

But on him, it’s irritating. On me, it’s normal.

“You do know you are a bit of an ass. Right?” she said.

“Why, because I don’t have the moral fortitude of a mood ring?”

“What does that mean?” And why did she have the distinct impression that they were fighting over something else? But what? “Wait. You’re still mad because you think Juan and I hooked up. You’re jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous?” he growled. “You’re not my girlfriend. We don’t even like each other.”

She crossed her arms and looked toward the hills. “Shows what you know,” she mumbled. Because she did like him.

“What was that?” Austin asked.

“He didn’t see me naked,” she blurted. “I showered, borrowed some of your clothes, and went back to the B and B to get my own stuff. By the way, your underwear is really comfortable. I’m thinking of switching.” It was true. Those briefs didn’t ride up her crack. It was heaven compared to her usual no-panty-line thongs.

They came up to a stop sign, only about a mile outside of town. Austin turned his entire body toward her. He opened his mouth to say something but then ended up staring at her lips in silence before turning his attention back to the road and continuing on.

“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything?” she asked.

His jaw ticked faster. “I don’t care who you sleep with. I’m not your boyfriend. I barely know you.”

Which is why his agitation made no sense. Unless he really did like her. The thought flooded her with a strange sensation.

“Then you need to know that your impression of me is wrong. I don’t sleep around. I never have, and I never will.”

“I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”

Harper was mortified because she knew exactly what he meant. She’d almost slept with him the other night, and that made her a slut. “Pull over.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Pull the hell over. I’ll walk back to the farm and get my car.” It was only five miles.

Yeah, but with the shape you’re in, that’s equivalent to ten.

Shut up.

“I’m not pulling over, Harper.”

“Well, you should. Because I’m going to punch you in the balls, which will result in
your swerving off the road and us crashing into a tree.”

“What did I do?”

“You insinuated that I’m a tramp because I almost slept with you. But I’m certain your perfect self-image isn’t tarnished for almost sleeping with me, even though if we were to compare notches in our belts and your multiple current relationships, the overwhelming vastness of your sexual conquests would far exceed mine.”

The car pulled up to the stoplight just off the main road that would take them to Calistoga. Harper hopped from the car and slammed the door shut.

“Harper, I’m sorry. Come back.”

“Hypocritical sonofabitch.” Harper walked in the direction of the farm.
Great. Now I have to walk five miles. Asshole. Where does he get off calling me a slut? And how can he be so insensitive? This job is my life. But he won’t even listen to what I have to say. Why did he have to come back into my—

“Harper.” A strong hand grabbed her arm.

She turned to see Austin, who’d evidently left his car running at the stoplight.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t think you’re a slut. And that wasn’t what I meant. Please get back in the car.”

“What did you mean, then?”

“I meant that…I meant that…Okay. You caught me. I
was
thinking that, and it was wrong. I should know better. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” He flashed one of those goddamned adorable smiles that instantly melted away every ounce of anger she felt.

How does he do that? And how in the world does this man continually keep reducing me to the maturity of a thirteen-year-old? I am a grown woman, for fuck’s sake. And nobody’s opinion matters but my own.
She blew out a breath, shaking her head at herself.
Pathetic. Grow the hell up, Harp.

The cars stuck behind Austin started honking.

“Will you get back in the car, please?” he begged.

“Yes.” Now she felt embarrassed. What was it about Austin that turned her inside out? They were so, so bad for each other.

They walked back to the car, Austin waving and apologizing to the cranky drivers as they got inside. He put it into first and headed north toward Calistoga.

This was going to be a long, long day.

~~

Austin couldn’t believe what an ass he was being. Seriously. He was being an ass. A really, really big one. All because he was caveman livid over the thought of Juan and Harper. And the worst part was that she’d zeroed right in and called him on it.

Damn, I like that.
He loved that he couldn’t B.S. her.

All right. It wasn’t as if he’d attempted to hide his jealousy, but he wasn’t advertising it either. That jealousy, however, paled in comparison to the anger he felt toward himself for being so fucking weak. Yes, weak. Because that’s what jealousy
was, a sign of weakness. He’d lashed out at Harper because he’d been up all night, tossing and turning with images of those two—her and Juan—kissing and showering together. He’d imagined Harper’s hips and breasts and—fuck!—he’d imagined everything. Only, he wasn’t the one touching her body. It was that goddamned Casanova smoothing a soapy loofa over her supple, alabaster skin while she groaned in ecstasy. He’d barely slept a wink, which was torture in his book because he was a man that liked his goddamned sleep. Every damned second of it. Then she’d showed up wearing yet another provocative outfit—sexy little khaki shorts that only covered enough thigh to cause an instant erection—
think about crying babies, crying babies
—and a tight white T-shirt that allowed him to imagine every inch of her skin below it. Then there was that long neck accentuated by her short hair. What was the woman trying to do to him? He couldn’t wait to get away from her before he did something crazy like grab her and kiss her and…

Knock that shit off.

The moment they reached Calistoga, Harper’s phone rang. It was Sebastian saying that they’d found a bottle of linseed oil and no longer needed them to make the run to the vet.

“All right,” said Harper, speaking into her phone. “We’ll turn around.”

She listened for a bit, then protested, “She really thinks we would be so careless?” Silence. “Well, yeah. I know we knocked her over, but that was different.” Silence. “Well, yeah. I know I burned Alberto with hot coffee, but that was different.” Silence. “Yes, I understand. We’ll see you later, then.”

“What did he say?” Austin asked.

Harper sighed. “He said he’d talk to Luci, but she’s still pretty pissed. She doesn’t want either of us to go back. She thinks we’re bad luck.”

Austin felt a tiny bit relieved, but wasn’t sure why. Could it be because then neither of them would win this tournament and it could be blamed on someone else?

“Well, what would you like to do, then?” Austin asked.

Harper shoved her hands through her short silky hair, and it made him want to reach over and touch it, too. He wanted to touch every inch of her soft body, despite his better judgment. “I don’t know.”

It was only about eleven in the morning—too early for lunch, but not too early for other fun. “I have an idea.”

“Please tell me it involves sleeping or eating.”

“How about drinking?” he asked.

“That’ll work.”

“Great. Because my wine reserves are running low,” he said.

“Wine tasting?”

“Yeah.”

“On a beautiful Sunday afternoon, life doesn’t get much better,” she said.

It does when that afternoon includes Harper
.

~~

Scenic view-gasm!

“Where in the world did you find this spot?” Harper asked, unable to believe that they had the entire view of the vineyard to themselves.

“A friend of mine used to work here and told me about it. But I come whenever I make the trip up this way.”

“It’s spectacular.” They’d only had to hike a short distance to where the grapevines stopped and the pine trees began, but it felt like they were overlooking the entire Napa Valley: miles and miles of rows of grapevines, soft rolling green hills off in the distance, and a crisp blue sky above. Austin had brought along a small blanket from the trunk of his car and a bottle of red wine from a case he’d purchased at the cutest winery she’d ever seen—metal sculptures in the shape of bouquets of flowers, fountains, an infinity pool pond, and rustic wine-barrel tables.

“I’m glad you like it. I’ve never taken anyone to this spot before, mainly because I come here to get away from everyone else.” Wearing a slightly snug blue tee that accentuated his upper body and manly goodness, he leaned back on his elbows, his solid body stretched across the blanket, long muscular legs encased in jeans extended out in front.

Harper had to admit that just looking at him did things to her. Like cause her to sweat just a little more than usual and make the space between her legs perk up.

“You mean your eight girlfriends?” Harper teased, sipping her delicious wine from one of the paper cups they’d snagged at a small deli on the road, where they’d also bought a couple of heavenly sandwiches made with a one-inch-pile of Italian cold cuts. God, she loved to eat.