Sweet Alibi (16 page)

“Hey, G.” Drew wandered into the kitchen a short while later with a stack of papers and a highlighter in her hand. I had two mugs and was pouring coffee into one. Tristan wasn't yet out of the shower. “You must have heard me coming.” Drew set down her work and took one of the freshly poured mugs.

“Talked to Kyle?” Drew took a sip and winced at the temperature. I heaved an exasperated sigh. It had been a few days since Kyle had canceled on his weekend plans. Drew had no idea that things had heated up between Tristan and me.

“No,” I answered blankly.

“You that mad that he couldn't make it?” She took another sip. I shrugged in response. Truth was I wasn’t sure if I was mad or glad that he hadn’t come down.

“Something else going on, G?” Drew set her coffee cup down. I fidgeted with frayed strings on my cut-off shorts. “Spill it, G.”

“Nothing to spill, Drew.” I brought the coffee cup to my lips.

“I can see you lying from a mile away. It's not like you to hold a grudge against Kyle. In fact, you forgive him way more than I ever would
―
”

“Mornin’, Drew. Thanks for making coffee, Georgia.” Tristan ran his fingers through his wet hair smiling warmly before strolling to the coffee pot to pour a mug for himself. Drew looked from him to me
―
her eyes widened.

“Georgia,” she mouthed, her eyes darting back to Tristan. I narrowed mine at her.

“Did you…?” She made an obscene sexual gesture with her hands. My eyes widened at her but Tristan turned before I had a chance to answer. It didn’t matter; I would have lied through my teeth.

“We should go to that vineyard today.” Tristan leaned a hip against the counter.

“Yeah, sounds great,” I mumbled and took another sip of my coffee, avoiding both of their eyes.

“Drew? You in?” Tristan asked her.

“Umm, yeah… sounds fun, but I’ve got work, so you guys go. Have fun.” I could feel her eyes boring a hole into my skull, but I refused to meet her gaze.

“We'll hold off then
―
” I started to offer.

“No, no, no. Wine isn't really my thing. You guys go ahead.”

“Maybe Silas
―
”

“Silas didn’t come home last night,” Drew interrupted me before picking up her papers and sliding off the barstool, bumping shoulders with me intentionally. I glanced up at her and she wiggled her eyebrows. I rolled my eyes at her.

“What do you say, Georgia?” Tristan's hand traveled the short distance across the counter and his fingertips brushed my own. My gaze raced up to his dancing eyes and over to Drew, who had an interested look on her face as she backed out of the kitchen with a saucy grin. Damn Tristan for being so obvious and irresistible that my hormones didn’t stand a chance against his undeniably sexy self.

“Sounds great,” I mumbled as I took another drink from my mug.

* * *

SOFT STRAINS OF piano and guitar filtered from my stereo speakers as Tristan and I drove inland to the vineyard.
The D-Bags
and
Thirty Seconds to Mars
dominated on the trip, but this song began slower. It was beautiful and haunting even before a man and woman’s voice sang together, the words echoing through my car.

“What is this?” My hands tightened on the steering wheel, the heartbreaking words consuming me.

“
Poison and Wine
by The Civil Wars,” he answered.

“It’s so sad,” I murmured. Tristan only nodded in response as the man and woman continued to sing. The pain in their voices was so palpable it tore me to my core, the lyrics shredding my insides. I tried to loosen my hands on the wheel and watch the landscape breeze by.

“You okay with this, Georgia?”

“What?” I looked into Tristan's eyes as we crossed the vineyard parking lot a few minutes later.

“Being here, with me? Just the two of us?” A small frown played across his face.

“Of course. No big deal,” I said then twisted my long hair and pulled it over my shoulder to keep it off my neck. The humidity was killing me. Maybe the Carolina coast wasn't my idea of heaven after all.

“Good.” His mouth lifted in an endearing grin. He grabbed my hand and locked it firmly in his own. I looked down at our entwined fingers and a small frown washed across my face. I tried to banish it before he noticed. 

I fell into step beside him and we walked with our hands linked. God, I hoped whatever I was doing I wouldn't end up hurting him. I’d come to the conclusion this was just a summer fling for him, and while I had no idea where I would end up at the end of the summer, namely back in D.C. with Kyle or not, I did know that Tristan would be heading back to Jacksonville.

The drive had been comfortable, if not quiet. I still hadn't spoken to Kyle. He’d tried to text and call a few times since Friday and undoubtedly knew I was upset. His last voicemail actually sounded angry that I hadn’t returned his calls. Maybe I was wrong, but I was so over always being there. He went to school, he worked, he put 110% into his career, and I was left with everything else, which was nothing. I was also fighting the guilt that had grown since Tristan and I had been together. Did I regret it? I didn’t want to. I’d told him I wouldn’t. But I knew it was wrong being with him while I was still with Kyle, wrong to not leave Kyle first if I knew we were having problems. It was wrong not telling Kyle after it happened. It was just wrong. I found myself in a no-win situation and I was the only one to blame. I felt every decision I’d made had been the wrong one. And yet here I was, my hand locked with Tristan’s because I was so inexplicably drawn to him I couldn’t stay away. I was a moth to his flame.

I heaved a sigh as we stepped into the cool warehouse.

Tristan led us to a desk and paid for a tour, grabbing a map that would direct us through the vineyard. We headed out the other end of the building and walked the grass path that led to the rows of vines. At the end of every row there was a small stand set up to provide samples of the wine created with each grape.

We walked and chatted, our hands twisted together, navigating the rows. We read signs that described the types of grapes, the types of wine produced, and the flavor profile of each. We sipped samples provided by the winery and talked about ones we liked and ones we didn’t. I wrote down a few that stood out with the intention of ordering a few bottles to keep at the beach house.

We laughed the more wine we sipped, the heat and humidity making the effects of the wine more potent. Weaving through rows, I laughed as Tristan plucked a purple grape off a vine and popped it in his mouth. His laid-back attitude was refreshing. I smiled more. I laughed more. I felt lighter
―
like the ache that had permanently settled in my chest eased when we were together. We stopped to read a sign, and Tristan's arms wound around my waist from behind and his lips tickled the skin of my shoulder. I leaned into him and he draped one forearm across my neck, pulling me tight to his lean body and nuzzling the crook of my neck.  Our night together hadn’t been a one-night stand, Tristan had made that clear, and now he was acting like we were more. Showing me he wanted more, but what did I want?

“I think the wine is going to my head.” I leaned against a whitewashed wooden fence.

“We can take a break.” He pressed his body flush with mine, wrapping his arms around my waist and locking his hands at my lower back. I laid my head on his chest and breathed deeply, closing my eyes.

“I don't think wine and heat go well together,” I mumbled. A small moan escaped my throat as he rubbed his hands up and down my back. “Feels good.” Tristan rested his chin on my head. We stood like that for a few minutes. The sun was starting to set and a spray of orange and pink streaked the sky. Tristan's hands settled again on my lower back and his fingertips edged under the hem of my shirt and stroked softly against my skin. His touch shot fire through my veins and sent shivers running through my body.

“This is nice.” 

“Mmm,” I hummed in agreement.

“I like having you in my arms.”

“I like being there,” I whispered as I nuzzled further into his chest, inhaling his clean scent. Tristan's fingers continued to drift just under the hem of my shirt, rocking us back and forth slowly. I yawned happily and tightened my arms around his waist.

“Are you okay to walk back to the car or am I going to have to carry your drunk ass?” Tristan crooked a grin and I looked up into his eyes with a lazy smile.

“I’m good.” My eyes focused on his full lips. I licked mine as my eyes flicked back to his, tentatively pressing my lips to his. He kissed me back lightly, his hands moving up to hold my face, his thumbs caressing my cheekbones as he kissed me decadently. Finally we pulled apart and I grinned at him. He shook his head before the corners of his mouth lifted in a heart-stopping smile.

“Come on, wino.” He caught my hand in his own and dragged me behind him, making our way back to the parking lot. My eyes trained on his cargo-clad bottom and I heaved a happy sigh. The guy was hot, but more than that he was sweet and funny and easy to be with. He had the ability to make me feel beautiful, wanted, and special. He held me like I’d never been held, like he was holding me tightly for his own sake as for mine. I felt a connection to him that I’d never felt with anyone else, not even in the early days with Kyle.

I frowned for an instant at the realization. This day at the vineyard hadn’t just been a fun day sampling wine and holding hands; we had crossed a line and there was no going back. Even if I never saw Tristan after this summer, I knew I would never be the same girl that stepped into that beach house just a few weeks ago. From this day forward I would think of my life as pre-Tristan and post-Tristan. It only remained to be seen whether post-Tristan would be happy or heartbreaking.

Seventeen

Georgia

“UP FOR SOME reading?” Tristan sidled up next to me as I was doing dishes the next day.

I arched an eyebrow at him. “You want to continue ‘Tristan and Isolde’?”

“Sure, unless you went on without me.” He bumped shoulders with me playfully.

“I haven’t.”

“Go grab the book.” He swatted me lightly on the bottom as I hustled out of the kitchen. I swiped the book off my nightstand as I heard a text message come through my phone. Another from Kyle. He’d called and texted all day yesterday before I’d finally silenced my phone. I needed time to process my feelings, and Kyle pleading for me not to be upset with him wasn’t going to get me closer to figuring things out.

I returned to the kitchen with the book in my arms, Tristan watching me with his arms crossed and a sexy smirk on his face. I rolled my eyes. How could one person exude so much sex in a single glance? He shook his head with a laugh before we stepped onto the porch. I looked up to the bright sun as the sweet ocean breeze washed over my face, inhaled deeply, and closed my eyes, soaking up the warm rays.

“You’re at home here.”

I turned and looked at Tristan gazing back at me with a fond smile.

“I think I am.” Realization washed over me. It felt good to feel at home somewhere. Kyle had always been my home, wherever he was I felt at home, but at some point over the last few months that had shifted. Maybe even over the last few years. It had been so subtle it’d taken me a while to realize it.

We settled a few yards from the shore, perched on a small dune, the tall grass swaying in the breeze around us. I opened the book to the last page we’d read.

“My turn.” Tristan took the paperback from my hands. My eyes widened before I grinned at him indulgently.

“What? Don't think I can read?” He flashed me a panty-melting grin.

“Read on, Hemingway.”

He rolled his eyes in response before he began to read.

He read about Tristan and Isolde being together for the first time after she married King Mark. He read about Tristan's guilt over betraying the king, but how their love was so strong it refused to be denied.

I watched Tristan's sensual lips mouth the lines. The melodic timbre of his voice whispering the cadence of the words lulled me into relaxation and I closed my eyes, losing myself in the story.

“Do you think Tristan did the right thing?” I murmured some time later

“Leaving her? I don't know. He sacrificed himself, his love.”

“Duty and honor are important,” I said. “If you sacrifice those, don't you tarnish love?”

“It destroys them to be apart
―
‘life and death together,’” he quoted.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” I said forlornly.

“Their inseparable love?” Tristan watched me.

“The idea they can neither live nor die without each other. Their hearts are melded as one. It hurts so much to love each other and not be together she wishes she would have let him die in that ditch, and yet, she wouldn't have then known what all consuming love felt like if she had.”

“Between a rock and a hard place.”

“It's tragic and beautiful at the same time
―
‘I’d never know what now I know… the love of you’… It breaks my heart.” I looked at the rolling waves. “Do you think love like that exists? A love so strong that you’d rather die than be apart?”