One eyebrow lifted, and he opened his mouth as if to tsk his disapproval. Instead, he clenched his jaw and swung his arm toward the open door. “Ready to go?”
She walked outside and put on the brakes so fast he almost ran into her. “Where are we going, exactly?”
“I’m assuming you haven’t seen much of Yamhill County.”
“Surely I’m not missing much.” Her sarcastic words tumbled out before she had a chance to stop them. She had to control her impudent tongue if she had any chance with the Walker family.
When he grinned, flashing his dimples, she released the breath she’d been holding.
“I consider that a personal challenge, Annalee. Five bucks says by the time I’m done with this tour, you’ll be eating those words.” He extended his hand, watching her expectantly.
“You’re on, Mr. Walker.” She shook his hand, though her face warmed at his touch. “But I’ll warn you, I’m hard to impress.”
“I’m assuming you’ve never even seen a live cow up close.” His dark eyes danced with delight, probably thinking this would be a simple bet to win. “Don’t have many of those in the Big Apple, do you?”
“I’ll have you know, I was born and raised in Texas.” She almost laughed when his eyes flew open wide.
“How about a bear, then?”
“A bear? I’ve no desire to get up close and personal with a bear.”
“Okay... ever been to a vineyard?”
Ash squealed, “A vineyard? I’d love to visit a... I mean...” She continued in a more sedate voice. “A vineyard could be interesting.”
“Ah-ha! Sounds like I’m taking you to a vineyard.” He nudged her ahead, across the street, to the waiting pick-up, following her to the passenger side to open her door. He’s so gentlemanly. His hand steadied her as she climbed up the step into the high truck seat. Wait—maybe he’s being too gentlemanly.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she coughed to cover up the nervous tremor in her voice. “I thought we were meeting to talk about paint colors. Touring around, going to a vineyard—that sounds kind of like a date.”
He shut the passenger door and rested his arms on the open windowsill. His head cocked to one side like a curious puppy. “You say that like it would be a terrible thing if we went on a date.”
“It would! I can’t date you.” When his brows furrowed, she hurried to clarify. “What I mean is... I can’t date anyone right now... not for a while. I just got out of a bad relationship.” That much was certainly true—she’d sworn off dating since Zach destroyed her heart.
Adam’s jaw muscles flexed as if he wanted to slug someone. “How long were you with this guy?”
The way Adam asked the question clearly displayed his disgust toward “this guy.” She couldn’t suppress a surge of pleasure at Adam’s protectiveness. If she’d ever had a brother, she imagined he would be like this. How could she preserve her relationship with Adam? What could she say so he wouldn’t feel angry when he learned they were cousins?
“Zach and I were together almost a year—that’s why I’m not even thinking about dating anyone right now. But I hope you and I can be friends, even though we got off to a bad start.”
“Friends—absolutely!” With an enigmatic smile, he slapped the side of the truck, strolled around to the driver’s side and climbed inside.
Huh... so Adam really just wants to be friends.
He kept a rolling descriptive monologue going as he drove through the Willamette Valley. Ash wondered why she hadn’t noticed the beauty of the rolling hills while driving her rental car from the airport in Portland. The vineyards with the mountains in the distance would have made a gorgeous postcard image.
In the quaint tasting room of the Passion Lane Winery, she sampled some wines, trying to pretend she had a sophisticated palette as the wine was described. “Oh, right... I taste that berry with a hint of earthiness you’re talking about.”
When the sommelier turned his back, Ash shrugged and made a funny face at Adam, who almost spurted out his mouthful of wine.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she told Adam as the left the winery. “I thought that was fun, but I couldn’t taste all those slight differences he described in the wines.”
“It takes practice to distinguish the flavors of wines. I’m sure you could take a few bites of any food and recognize most of the seasonings.”
She started to agree with his statement, but got distracted by his hand on the small of her back. She had to think about something besides the tiny tingles spreading up and down her spine. “A cup of flour equals 140 grams. A cup of sugar equals 200 grams. A cup of butter equals 230 grams...”
“What are you doing?”
His hand slipped away, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Just practicing my measurements.”