book clubs.”
“I like what you do here. It’s more than just books that have people coming in.”
Does he mean me? Or . . . “Well, I do work with book clubs all around the county and set up book and wine events—pairing wine with different books.”
“That’s awesome. Do you like wine?”
“Like a hammer loves a nail,” I say, then I want to smack myself because does that sound like the worst come-on ever?
But he doesn’t seem to notice. “There’s a great wine bar down the street if you ever want to . . .”
I straighten my spine.
Holy smokes. He’s asking me out. The handsome guy is asking me out.
Men do make some sense.
This computes.
But before I can say, Why, yes, I’d love to, I catch a final glimpse of the tie on the cover. Nerves grab hold of my throat. They tighten their grip, strangling words, choking them to silence. What if this guy is like David? What if he wants some version of a woman I don’t know how to play? What if he’s looking for a naughty girl rather than a nice one?
The nice girl in me answers, “Oh, that wine bar is great. You should totally go there.”
I skedaddle to help another customer, nearly tripping over Clare, who gives me an imperious yellow-eyed stare for deigning to go near her.
“I froze. I completely froze. Like that dumb statue.” I gesture to the dude riding the bronze horse as Perri and I walk through the town square later that night.
“That is a seriously dumb statue. Want to topple it later?” she asks as she yanks her auburn hair into a tighter ponytail.
“Yes, let’s deface public property. That’ll help me get over my complete deer-in-the-headlights moment.” I sigh and look at my good friend. “It gets better, right?”
She pats my shoulder. “I want to be totally sympathetic and tell you it’s cool, no worries. But it’s not going to get better unless you take a leap and get back in the game. That guy did a number on you.”
I picture David’s cutting words as he dropped me. “I know. And did I tell you that David is now engaged to the woman he started seeing after me? I can’t even hate him for being a cad. He just didn’t want me. He wanted her. They came into the store a week ago, and she was wearing a big fat ring.”
Perri gives me a green-eyed sideways glance. “Sweetie, I’m not talking about David.”
I stop at the edge of the square, furrowing my brow. “Who are you talking about, then?”
“Phillipe.”
“Phillipe?”
She makes a rolling gesture with her hands. “Phillipe. French guy you dated for four years when he was living here. The sexy winemaker.”
“I know who Phillipe is. I’m just not understanding the comparison.”
“One-position Phillipe. He loved missionary more than anything in the world. Except his grapes.”
I laugh. “Well, yeah. He was absolutement in love with his grapes.”
“More important, Phillipe is kind of all you knew when it came to men. So when David said you were too sweet, it’s only because you don’t know if you like spicy.”
We turn the corner, and I arch a brow. “That’s the reason I froze in my store? Because I don’t know if I like spicy sex?”
She nods. “Phillipe was pure vanilla.”
For four years, Phillipe and I dated. He was wonderful—sweet and kind and a massive fan of being on top. In his defense, he was quite skilled at missionary, and we enjoyed the hell out of our horizontal time together. He reached all the spots he was supposed to reach including those starting with a G. But we never really ventured beyond that comfort zone, and the few times I asked, he never cared to mix it up.
I missed him only a little bit when he returned to Europe a few years ago to take over his family’s vineyard in the Provence region.
“Your theory is I simply don’t know what I might like in bed?” We wind our way toward our favorite bar.
“Exactly. Phillipe vastly preferred one way, and with David, you never had the chance to explore.”
Wow. How did I not realize it before? But her assessment is dead-on. Because of Phillipe I assumed most men liked sex the same way—on top, guy in charge, setting the pace. “I’ve only played it safe,” I say, a little sad.
“You’ve only played it safe because it’s all you’ve experienced. I’m not saying you have to take crazy risks. And there’s nothing wrong with vanilla .