Weddings and Wasabi (4 page)

“You know that’s not the end of it.”

“Of course that’s not the end of it. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Despite her casual words, a thick cesspool of dread swirled in Jenn’s stomach at the thought of what Aunty Aikiko would do now that she’d lost her future restaurant manager.

“You could go a little faster.” Trish eyed the speedometer significantly.

“Says the woman who drives on sidewalks.”

“It was only one time! And I got distracted by a false labor contraction, thank you very much, and I was only
just
easing into the intersection after the light had turned green.” Trish added, “And I didn’t hit anybody!”

“Well, I don’t want to hit anyone either.”

“There’s no one to hit.” Trish flung her hand out of the car at the open country fields on either side of them to push her point.

“There’s the biker behind us.” He was pretty far away, but Jenn could already hear the rumble of his Harley Davidson. She glanced again in the rear view mirror and caught a twinkle of chrome.

Trish turned her passenger side mirror to get a look at him. “Now that’s a nice way to ride these windy roads.”

“Hey, you messed up my mirror. Put it back.”

“I will when I’m done.”

“You’re getting married.”

“Get your head out of the gutter. I’m not looking at the rider. I’m eyeing the
bike
.”

He came up behind them, a relaxed figure in black leather with metal trim on his fitted jacket. The roar of the motor filled the car through the open windows.

The lane ahead of her was long and empty, so she eased to the right-ish side of the road to signal that he could pass her if he wanted.

He wanted. The motor growled, although he didn’t zip past her as she expected him to. He was driving a bit cautiously for a biker, to be honest.

He passed to her left, and Jenn turned to look at him. He looked at her at the same moment.

He had the dreamiest eyes. Something about them—about the look he gave her—made her chest tighten and her breath come in faster gasps.

He didn’t look away. Neither did she.

A small part of her brain squealed at her to smile, to give him any kind of encouragement. But she couldn’t seem to move her facial muscles. And her jaw was in her lap, completing her dorky look.

A bumping noise … Oops, she had drifted too far to the right and one side of the car was treading through the gravel at the side of the road.

“Jenn!”

She snapped her eyes forward and righted the car slowly, lest she ram into the biker to her left. Lovely way to pick up a man—run him over with her SUV. The biker passed them and moved back into the right lane.

“And you talk about me driving on sidewalks?” Trish said.

“You will have to excuse me for being distracted by the view,” Jenn said loftily.

“The bike? This from the woman too terrified to even sit behind our cousin on his motorcycle?”

“It was Larry, and only an idiot wouldn’t fear for her life. I meant the rider. He was gorgeous.”

“You couldn’t even see his face.”

“Yes, I could. He had a clear-ish visor. He had beautiful eyes.”

Trish groaned. “You mean the kind of eyes women would die for but men get instead? I don’t want to hear about it.”

“No, they were very masculine. He was dishy.”

“According to the two square inches you could see of his face.”

“It was love at first sight, I tell you.” Jenn grinned.

“The first time I saw Spenser, I thought he was cute,” Trish admitted. “But he got annoying real fast. Men do that, you know.”

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re marrying him.”

“I didn’t say the annoying was
bad
—”

Bam!

“What was that?” Trish shrieked.

“Relax, it’s just a tire. We got a flat.” Jenn’s calm voice belied her pounding heart. She had to fight the steering wheel a bit to get the car to the side of the road.

“This lane is awful narrow,” Trish said as they got out of the car. “And we’re not far from a bend in the road. I hope no one comes by soon.”

“Well, then, help me change this tire quickly.”

Her words were drowned out by the sound of a very loud motor.

The next thing she knew, the Harley rider had pulled up beside her. She hadn’t even seen him turn around to head back to them—had he heard their tire blow out? His bike was a monstrous presence, his eyes even more intense behind his visor. He cut the engine and took off his helmet. “Need help?”

Jenn would have answered him, but her heart had stopped. And her mouth had stopped working. And she couldn’t blink, either. And her lungs might have collapsed, too, because she was getting dizzy from lack of oxygen.

He was
uber
-dishy.

Chestnut hair. Dark, dreamy eyes. A firm jaw framing a mobile mouth with fine laugh lines at the corners.

His gaze caught hers like a hand cupping her face. He didn’t look away. Neither did she.

Suddenly a kick to her calf—
a la
Trish—made Jenn blink. “Oh.” He had asked a question. What had it been? “Uh, yes. We need help. If you have time.”

“I don’t mind.” His voice had a light tone, as if he made quippy jokes often or poked fun at himself a lot. “You’re right near where the road curves, so it’s a bit dangerous. Better to get a spare tire on quickly.”

He had a fascinating little divot in his chin …

Trish delivered another not-so-subtle kick to Jenn’s ankle. “Er … thanks. I really appreciate the help.”

He smiled, then, and Jenn was completely lost. His laugh lines were deep, framing his bright, slightly shy smile. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to grab his face and kiss him.

Oh my goodness, she had to get a hold of herself. Her neck started to burn.

“So where are you two headed today?” he asked as he fiddled with the locking mechanism to unhitch her spare tire from the back of the SUV.

“We’re going to Armstrong Winery,” Trish said brightly. “I’m tasting wines to see if I want to order them for my wedding, and Jenn’s my caterer.”

He glanced not at Trish but at Jenn. “You should go to the Castillo Winery just down the road. It’s my uncle’s.”

“Your uncle owns Castillo?” Jenn perked up. “I’ve seen his wines but never tasted one.” She seemed to recall one of his pinot noir blends won an award last year.

He winked at her. “It’s better than Armstrong.”

Jenn laughed. “Of course you’d say that.”

“I’m completely unbiased.” Suddenly he frowned down at the spare, which he’d dropped on the ground from the hitch. “Your spare is flat.”

“What?” Jenn bent and pressed against the tire. It gave like a marshmallow. “But it’s new. I got five new tires only a few months ago.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to tow your car. Have you got AAA?”

“No, my uncle owns a garage,” Jenn said. “He always gives me free towing. I’ll call him.”

But when she got hold of her Uncle Roger at his auto repair shop, he said, “Sorry, Jenn, I won’t be able to tow it until later this afternoon. You don’t need to stay with your car—just tell me where it is and I’ll bring it in. You can get a ride home, right?”

Jenn told this to Trish, who pulled out her phone. “I guess we’ll miss our tasting appointment. Oh, no. My battery’s dead.”

“You can use mine,” Jenn said.

“No, I have the winery’s number on my phone. You don’t have it, do you?”

Jenn shook her head, then turned back to the handsome stranger. “You don’t happen to have your competitor’s phone number, do you?”

He smiled again, and Jenn’s stomach flipped. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll ask my cousin to come pick you up and take you to the winery.”

“We can’t ask you to do that,” Trish protested.

“I don’t mind. It’s my day off today. I’m also good friends with Barry Armstrong and I can make sure he treats you right, as opposed to their normal tasting room manager. And then you’ll come to Castillo to taste our wines, right?”

Trish laughed. “Okay!”

Jenn wanted to match her exuberance, but she worried about inconveniencing this man and his cousin. She always felt like a wet blanket around Trish. And she didn’t even know the guy’s name.

She waited until he had called his cousin and disconnected his cell phone. “I’m Jennifer Lim,” she said, extending a hand.

“Edward Castillo.”

His clasp was warm—no, hot. But not sweaty hot or uncomfortable hot. More like energizingly hot. His palm was slightly rough, as if he spent a lot of time doing rough jobs, maybe working in the vineyard. And he seemed reluctant to let go of her hand, which gave her heart a little blip of
 
Whoopee!

“I’m Trish Sakai. Jenn and I are cousins.”

A slow smile that seemed aimed at Jenn. “I could tell.”

Really? Trish was ten times prettier—most people said so. The best they could ever say about Jenn was that she had a deep, husky Lauren Bacall voice. Somehow Edward’s words seemed like a compliment she might actually believe about herself.

His cousin David arrived within only a few minutes. “That was fast,” Jenn remarked as a pick up truck rattled to a halt in front of them.

“The back entrance to Castillo is only a mile up the road,” Edward said. “Armstrong is about ten miles beyond that.”

Trish was about to hop into the truck, but then she turned and gave Jenn that coy,
I’m going to do something you’ll hate but it’ll be good for you
look. “Jenn, didn’t you tell me you’ve always wanted to ride a Harley?”

What?!
A pulse of abject fear swallowed her exclamation.

Trish turned guileless eyes to Edward. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, but if you’d be willing to indulge a girl …”

He jumped on the suggestion. “I’d be happy to.” He extended a hand to Jenn. “I have an extra helmet with me, too.”

That hand was a tempter, enticing her onto that chrome-gilded death trap on two very small wheels. But the hand was confident, and its owner even more so. And while the death trap would have normally sent her screaming in the opposite direction, that hand pulled her like a truffle to a chocoholic.

“S-sure.” She gave him her hand, which felt numb and cold.

He squeezed her fingers slightly—she wasn’t sure what that meant. Her brain was firing
Run away! Run away!
synapses like exploding fireworks, but she followed him to the bike.

He slid a helmet over her head, its weight making her neck feel fragile and breakable, especially on a doorless machine going at 30 miles an hour …

No, she couldn’t think about that. She’d be with Edward, who seemed like a safe … well, she didn’t know if he was a safe driver. He seemed like a safe … no, she wasn’t quite sure he was a safe person, either, which she had to admit added to his appeal.

Um … God, keep us safe!

She climbed on board.

She took his breath away. In more ways than one.

Or maybe it was because Edward had sucked in his gut the entire short ride to Armstrong Winery, because she’d been clenching him around his middle so tightly. She hadn’t seemed the flirty type. Actually, he would have interpreted her touch as a death grip if she hadn’t said she’d always wanted to ride a Harley.

She’d socked him in the stomach with her first glance at him, when he’d been passing her truck and she’d caught his eye. Something about her made him think of the moon over the vineyards on a clear night in summer. She gave him that same sense of peace and rightness and belonging.

He’d never felt this way about a woman before. It exhilarated him. It scared the rips off his jeans.

They pulled into the long driveway to the tasting rooms of Armstrong, but he led David to the back of the property to one of the main office buildings instead. The noise of the Harley brought Barry out of his office into the parking lot. “Oh my garlic,” he exclaimed. “Look at you.”

Here was a good excuse to show off his birthday present to Barry. Edward parked the bike and made to get off, but Jennifer’s arms were still in a vise lock around his midsection. He paused. “Uh …”

Jennifer started. “Oh. Sorry.” She slipped away from him, and the day got cooler.

“When did you get this bike?” Barry demanded with a wide, envious smile.

“Today. Late birthday present from Uncle Ron.”

“Lucky dog.” Barry bent to take a closer look at the engine.

“Happy belated birthday,” Jennifer said softly. She had a deep, sultry voice that made him think of old black and white movies.

“Thanks.” His coolness factor had skyrocketed just because of the bike and leather. Except how would she react if she knew he was normally not a mysterious biker dude, but just a rather nerdy farmer?

David had parked the truck and Trish climbed out. “Barry, this is Trish Sakai and her cousin Jennifer Lim.”

“Call me Jenn,” she said, taking his hand.

Jenn. That sounded more like her than Jennifer.