Her forehead furrows. “Don’t you need to get stuff ready?”
“I’ve taken care of it. I spoke to Lou before I came here. Everything should be ready for us to set up when we get to the tasting room.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Oh.”
Payton grins at me. “A man that prepares. I thought those were mythical beings.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “I have my moments.”
Cat gives a great big sigh and stands. “Well, I guess it’s time to get to work.” She smooths her hand down her niece’s silky blond hair. “Have a good day, baby.”
“Thanks, Aunt Cat. I’ll see you later when we all get drunk.”
That makes everyone around the table laugh, and Jackson says to his daughter, “You’re not getting drunk, young lady.”
“Oh, Daddy, I know.” She puts on a big pout. “But you’ll let me watch, right?”
“Most definitely not,” Jackson says, his voice stern.
“Please.” The little girl holds her hands together in prayer. “Please, please, please.”
“Nope.”
Natalie turns her attention to Gwen. “Can you please get him to be reasonable, Momma?”
Gwen’s features soften, and I can practically see her heart melting for the little girl that will be her daughter officially as soon as the adoption papers are signed.
She turns to Jackson. “We can let her stay for one, right?”
Jackson shakes his head at the ceiling. “Have we not talked about this? You’re supposed to side with me, to present a united front.”
“I’m not saying the whole night, but what’s the harm in letting her have fun with us for an hour?” Gwen turns and winks at Natalie. “Your father is obviously right.”
“Obviously,” Natalie says, her voice light, her expression mock serious.
“Fine.” Jackson gives a heavy sigh. “One hour, and then off you go.”
“Deal.” Natalie beams.
I jut my chin at Cat. “Ready?”
“Fine. Ready.” She huffs, exasperated.
“Cat, if you don’t want to go with him, I will.” Payton offers oh so helpfully.
Before Cat can take her up on a possible escape, one that will only hurt her in the end, I say, “Thanks, sweetheart, but I need Cat for this.”
Payton gives me a little wink. “Gotcha.”
Cat sighs again, like she can’t believe she’s saddled with me, but I know it’s all an act. When she walks by, I grab her wrist and whisper, “You don’t fool me one bit.”
She glares up at me. “Coming?”
“Not yet, but you might be.”
She rears back, her eyes wide. “You’re the worst.”
“That’s the rumor.” I let her go, and she continues to walk through the door. Just so everyone in the room is crystal clear on the matter of Cat and me, I give her a good slap on the ass as we depart.
That should put her in a better mood.
The woman needs a good claiming.
17
Cat
I’m stomping my feet as we make our way into the tasting room, irrationally irritated at Caden. At Gwen and Jackson. And especially at Payton, who left absolutely no doubt that she was interested in the jerk.
In an unreasonable huff, I walk to the bar and start arranging glasses that don’t need arranging, just to collect myself.
I’ve always liked both of Gwen’s sisters, but right now, Payton and her flirting have gotten under my skin. I’m not going to lie, I wanted to smack her. I wanted to lunge over the table and pull her hair, screaming like a banshee that he was mine. Mine, goddamn it!
It’s the most annoying emotion I’ve ever experienced.
Made all the worse because I should not feel this way.
What’s even more horrifying is I’m positive Caden knew I was jealous.
As much as I keep telling myself to play it cool, I cannot seem to stop the minor tantrum I’m throwing.
The door clicks closed, and he chuckles.
It’s like nails on a chalkboard.
“Working on quite a mad there, aren’t ya?” That low, amused voice.
Ugh, I want to punch him. I think of him slapping my ass and flash hot at the memory of other things he’s slapped, but I latch on to indignation, whirling to face him.
He’s leaning over the edge of the bar, all casual like. A washed-out T-shirt with the words good with my hands emblazoned over it stretches over his broad chest and hugs his biceps far too tightly for comfort. He’s got a toothpick hanging out of his mouth that he’s twirling.
He looks so…so…relaxed. It raises my ire exponentially.
I jab a finger at him. “You slapped me!”
“I did.” He utters the statement like it’s no big deal. He darts a gaze down my body. “I’ll probably