the States. Canada only had the more boring flavors of Oreos. As it turned out, my new adopted country was a great haven of all things Oreo and I had indulged in tasting 17 out of the possible 25 flavors.
Lucas, apparently, was not a fan. I wasn’t too hurt, though. Because that meant I got the entire pack to myself. “You’ll just have to find some other way to make it up to me.” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Oh I have a few ideas. But they are all on the no-list, according to you.” I gave him a wink, then licked my top lip suggestively. He deserved a little tease.
He scowled in response, even while reddening. Then he jammed his sunglasses back on his face.
Before getting back into the car, I did a three sixty to catch the surrounding view. From the vegetation and the landscape views, it hardly seemed like we were still in California. I took in a deep breath, appreciating the fresh, sweet-smelling air. And there were actually trees here other than the ever-present palms and Italian cypress down south. I raised my hands into the air, stretching and relishing the feel of a fresh breeze on my face. Was the summer cooler up here, too?
I caught Lucas’s gaze and jerked to a stop, mid-twirl, unaware that he’d been watching me. Our eyes met, and I felt… something.
My heart sped up a little. My blood might have rushed to my face, warming the skin there pleasantly. I may have smiled at him. And the little devil on my shoulder might have danced a little jig and whispered some naughty ideas into my ear. She was a bad seed, that one.
Breathlessly, I explained myself. “I just love that there are so many trees here. It’s so different from where we live.”
“We’re five hundred miles away from home.”
Behind the protection of his shades, that weird stoicism had returned. That same distant coldness that wasn’t unkind… more like guarded.
I frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you really upset about me talking about your title?”
He blinked and turned from me, clicking the car unlocked and gallantly letting me in my side before taking his place behind the wheel.
I didn’t expect him to answer my question given the delay. But as he pulled out of the parking spot and headed toward the on-ramp back to the freeway, he did.
“No,” he finally said. “But if it comes up at work, you are doing the clean-up on that, got it? I don’t care what story you give them. It was a joke, you lied, whatever.”
I nodded, watching him carefully. “Okay. Fair enough”
We didn’t talk while I munched my cookies. Lucas exited the highway to make our way down the twisty and two-lane Pope Valley road, passing even more trees. Here, I could see the vineyards right up next to the road. Lush green bushes that seemed as if they were planted on every square inch of soil that would hold them. They were stacked neatly in rows and climbing the natural swells of the landscape and the hills. Like undulating waves of a huge and fertile green ocean reaching up to the sky.
And sadly, I’d get a glimpse every so often of a distant hill or chunk of land that still bore the scars of a devastating wildfire. They’d torn through the valley in recent years, leaving barren, burnt paths in their wake. Being from British Columbia, I was no stranger to the devastating effects of wildfires myself.
I turned my head from side to side, bending forward to peer up and out of the windshield at the blue, blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds. The horizon to both the left and the right was trimmed with distant ruffled blue mountains. “It’s lovely here.”
“Don’t get too attached to that nice weather you just enjoyed down at the south part of the valley. Groenveld Vineyard is at the furthest north end of the valley and in the summer, it can get hotter than hell.”
“Wait, I thought your dad said it’s called Turning Windmill?”
“That’s the winery, the place where they make the wine. The vineyard is where the grapes grow.”
We’d passed many of the larger vineyards and wineries on the main highway. Some were vast and opulent, one looking like a massive Tuscan medieval castle, others resembling romantic European estates.
My eyes drifted to his hands on the steering wheel. Those sexy, strong, veined hands were currently white-knuckling the wheel. Dude was not happy about having to hang out