my name.”
“I know it’s not your name.” He made a thinking face. “Uh, Hillary, right?”
She could feel the momentary tranquility she’d held on to slip away to be replaced with irritation. “Wrong. Not Hillary.”
Gage didn’t look as if he were in a hurry to leave her alone, so she unwound her legs and pushed herself up to standing. Brushing stray pine needles from her shorts, she folded her arms and waited for him to say something.
His mouth quirked, and it was totally sexy. But she didn’t care if it was sexy, because he was an ass.
Finally, he tilted his head. “So are you going to tell me your name?”
Ellery ran her tongue over her upper lip because her lips felt dry. His gaze caught that, and a flicker of something in his eyes gave her pause, sending a little thrill of awareness inside her. “Ellery. My name is Ellery.”
“Ah, I was close,” he said.
“But wrong.”
“But close.” He looked around. “What were you doing? Yoga?”
She shook her head. “Just centering, trying to feel myself in this space.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Oh. Well, I’m heading back to the winery. Why don’t you join me, since this isn’t part of the property where guests are supposed to roam. I know it’s pretty, but it’s still trespassing.”
Her inner rebel stamped its foot at being told what to do, but Ellery also didn’t want to be a bad guest, even if it was only to this guy who had been so quick to judge her and now was quick to hustle her out of serenity and back into the reality she so wanted to escape. “Fine.”
“I’m Gage, by the way.” He turned so that she could scoot past him. He could have turned and started walking, expecting her to follow him. Instead, he’d been somewhat gentlemanly. She’d give him a point for that.
“I remember.”
“You left your wineglasses. My cousin tried to catch you before you left. I think they’re in the gift shop with your name on them.”
She’d forgotten about them. Or maybe she had wanted to forget about them because she’d embarrassed herself driving to One Tree Estates that day. What she’d hoped to find was still a mystery . . . or not such a mystery. She’d been chasing after someone who made her feel like she mattered. If she’d paid better attention in her psychology class, she’d probably understand her inclinations. “So if you know my name is on them, why didn’t you remember my name?”
He glanced at her. “I don’t make a habit of memorizing the name of every person who leaves something behind.”
“But you knew they were mine.”
Gage shrugged. “I remembered you.”
Ellery couldn’t stop her smile.
He made a face. “It’s not what you think. You have a fiancé, and I don’t go traipsing around another man’s pasture. Unlike you, I can read signs.”
So he remembered she had a fiancé, too. Something warm and almost wonderful bloomed inside her fickle heart. Gage wasn’t the kind of guy she’d go for in a million years. His very demeanor was bristly, contentious, and somehow a challenge. But knowing he had totally botched her name on purpose—she was almost certain he had—dragged her bruised ego up at least a notch or two. “But you also remembered I had a fiancé. Huh.”
The look he gave her said more than any words, and that made her smile harder.
They ascended the hill, and he moved slightly in front of her. She noticed the way his legs flexed as he climbed, and that he had a tattoo of a dead tree with only a few green leaves on the back of his calf. Four green leaves and a vine with a single red rose. Above the tree, mountains created a space for a lone bird. It was artsy and somehow earthy.
“What’s the tattoo about?” she asked, trying to not slip on the loose rocks.
“Which one?”
“On your leg.”
He glanced back like he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Oh, uh, just a tree.”
So he wasn’t going to talk about it. But why had she asked? She didn’t care. It just looked like a puzzle . . . something that would give her a glimpse into who Gage was. Not that she cared. Of course. “It’s . . . nice.”
He turned back to her, and at that moment her foot slipped. His hand was like a manacle on her upper arm, and he caught her before she went down. Her hand instinctively clasped his forearm. The man was sinewy and