Blaire muffled a laugh. “She’s not wrong.”
“I’ll have you all know that I didn’t go to Austin to get some ass.”
Jennifer choked. “Good for you?”
Annie cackled and nudged her friend. “I love you.”
Jennifer reddened. Julian was wearing off on the shy girl. Julian drew her in closer and pressed a kiss to her temple.
“I can get ass just fine here,” I told them.
Jordan groaned. “Get on with it, Hollin.”
“Right,” I said, tipping my head at him. “I entered Wright Vineyard into the IWAA Texas Wine Award Competition in Austin.”
“What?” Annie gasped. She swatted at Jordan. “You didn’t tell me.”
Jennifer’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing.”
Blaire pulled me into a hug. “Really? That’s incredible!”
But Piper…Piper did nothing. Bradley was up, shaking hands with Jordan and Julian. Piper remained seated in my fucking shirt, looking hot as fucking hell. I had no idea what was running through her head. Was she processing that I hadn’t been talking about a date at all? Was she mad about the competition? Why was she blank-faced?
“Hey,” I said, drawing her eyes up to me. “This means I wasn’t on a date.”
She scowled. “Like I give a fuck.”
“What’s with the face? Can’t even be happy for us?”
The others had grown quiet at my words. No one else had realized that Piper wasn’t jumping up and down with excitement. There was no guarantee that we’d win this award. It was a huge competition. But it was a possibility. The wine I’d entered was our newest vintage, and it was above and beyond what West Texas Winery had ever made. Everything had come together in the last year. The grapes had yielded better than any before that. It was as if we’d sacrificed the old winery to some ancient deity and Wright Vineyard had been reincarnated out of the ashes. Blessed in some way.
But that didn’t explain Piper’s reaction. Yeah, she managed a separate winery, but we were a small enough operation not to dip into Sinclair Cellars’ profits or anything. They’d been around for decades. They were a huge operation. A national name. It didn’t change the rivalry. How could it when we were both so antagonistic?
“I’m happy for you,” she said without a hint of emotion.
“What is it?” I asked, taking a step toward her. “Say what’s on your mind.”
She met my step by coming to her feet and lifting her chin. A slow smile curled on her lips. There she was. There was the fire heart.
“It’s nice that you entered, but you’ve no chance of winning.”
My eyebrows shot up at her gall. The rest of the room disappeared as I got into it with her. I didn’t know what the others were doing or saying. When we got like this, tunnel vision narrowed in, and I forgot everything but the fight.
“And why is that?”
“Because I entered last week.”
3
Piper
Hollin’s stupid smirk dropped for an entire second as my words registered. His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, the soft strands of his blond hair falling across his forehead before he pushed it out of the way. It was like a victory. Until it disappeared and he smiled again, bigger and brighter than before.
“We’re competitors, Medina.”
“I guess we are.”
“I’ll be your Wright rival,” he crooned.
He held his hand out. I warily looked at it before putting mine in his. I stared him down. Heat bloomed between us. Something potent and commanding. A binding spell cast over this handshake. Magic of old sealing our words.
The contact made my hand tingle. As if magic had really been flung over us. Ribbon tied around our wrists to connect us. And I didn’t know how I felt about that. How I felt about having any connection to Hollin Abbey.
I jerked my hand back first. “I’m going to win.”
“We’ll see,” he said with a smirk.
Julian clapped a hand on Hollin’s back, and everything crashed down all at once. As if a bubble had been burst and the last stray traces of glitter fluttered to the ground, forgotten. Noise returned to our reality. Our friends huddled around us to congratulate us both for even entering. And somehow, I was still trapped in that in-between place. Not quite ready to give up whatever had come over us.
I made the mistake of looking up into his endless blue eyes. He was still Hollin, of course. Still a hundred and ten percent arrogance, wrapped up in a towering, tatted bow. But for a second, I thought he felt it, too. That nowhere in which nothing else existed but our rivalry.
He raised one eyebrow. A question and an invitation. Not that I could ever answer that particular question or RSVP to whatever he was inviting me to. Not with Hollin. Not ever. I knew what he did to girls who showed an ounce of interest. Just one ounce. I wouldn’t be one of those girls. No matter what had happened between us.