A Vine Mess (Love on the Vine #4)

3. Ella

I contemplated hanging up the phone no fewer than forty-seven times in the ten seconds it rang with an outgoing call. I couldn’t tell if it was because I was afraid he’d actually answer…or because I was terrified he wouldn’t. At least if he didn’t, I could simply chalk it up to a butt dial, though I’d never been very good at lying.

Because, obviously, the truth—that he’d been the first person I thought to call—was out of the question.

Right when I was sure it’d go to voicemail, his deep timbre came over the line.

“Ella? Are you okay?”

“Hi, Liam,” I croaked out. “I’m fine! I just…are you busy?”

“Just finishing up some last minute things around here before the weekend,” he said, clearly still at the winery. “Why, what’s up?”

“I really hate to bother you, and normally I’d call one of my sisters or one of the guys, but no one seems to be picking up the phone.” Okay, that was a lie. I hadn’t bothered to call anyone else. “And I just thought that maybe, if you weren’t doing anything—not that I’m assuming you’re just magically free, but—”

“Ella.” His tone was so gentle, and I halted my rambling to suck in a breath. “What do you need?”

“Okay, well, you see, Fanny hurt her back. She’s really too old to be doing any kind of manual labor anyway. But the Fawkes wedding is this weekend and the shipment of flowers arrived. If I try to unload them all myself, it’s going to cost me double while the truck sits here. He’s gotta have it back to the warehouse by a certain time, and since he drives so fucking slow, he just got here. He said he’d be back in an hour, and that was…” I checked my watch. “Twelve minutes ago. We’re his last stop of the day,” I added, explaining why he was delivering so late. It was nearly seven p.m., and I should’ve been back upstairs right now, curled up on my couch with a glass of wine and Chicago Fire on the TV.

“Where is the driver?”

I snorted. “That putz went to Granny’s.” Exactly like he did every time he made a delivery up here. Technically, it was in his contract to help me unload, but he’d never been very good at following directions. I’d damn near called his superiors to complain more times than I could count, but Fanny always told me it wasn’t worth it to rock the boat and risk them not delivering to us at all.

“I’ll be there in five.”

Every muscle in my body relaxed. “Oh, thank god. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anything for you,” he rushed out, then hung up almost as fast .

Huh . Was Liam…?

No , I shook my head firmly. That was a silly notion. One I refused to entertain.

True to his word, Liam arrived five minutes later—an impressive feat given the winery was ten miles away down a winding backroad—pushing through the front door of the flower shop and purposefully striding toward me.

“Put me to work, boss,” he said with a cheeky grin.

I relaxed further at his nearness, at having help to complete this task without having to pay the driver double because his lazy ass refused to do his job.

Deep breaths, El.

I offered Liam a grateful smile. “You have no idea how much this means,” I said.

“It’s the least I could do,” he said, lifting a single shoulder in a half-shrug.

In truth, offering a helping hand when someone reached out was really the bare minimum for anyone, but something about Liam, about the way he rushed to my aid without a second thought…I don’t know. It felt like more than that.

I wasn’t going to question it.

So I jerked my chin toward the back of the shop and said, “This way.”

He followed me down the two short hallways that led to the back door and followed me into the cool spring night. The days were thankfully getting longer, but as soon as the sun went down, there was still a bite to the air, and my breath fogged in front of my face. My boyfriend jeans kept the chill from my legs, but my skin exposed below the sleeves of my oversized tee shirt immediately pebbled with goosebumps.

Liam, in his standard thick flannel, appeared unperturbed. He simply rolled up his sleeves, exposing those strong, veiny forearms covered with tattoos and dark hair, and directed me to hop into the back of the box truck and line the buckets of flowers up at the edge so he could carry them inside.

We worked in easy tandem, the project that would’ve taken me over two hours—yes, there were that many flowers—accomplished in less than thirty minutes thanks to Liam’s muscles.

As he hauled the final two buckets inside and placed them in the cooler, I couldn’t help leaning against the doorway and watching him work, watching his ink flex and wave with each of his movements.

I was sure there was a story behind each of the marks, but I couldn’t make sense of them. There was a blooming rose on the back of his left hand, a bright, blue butterfly on the inside of his left wrist—one that looked suspiciously like my own—and some peonies and dahlias on his right forearm, a snake wending its way through the petals. Letters across his knuckles. I knew from spending time with him in the muggy greenhouse, when he traded his signature uniform for a cutoff tee, that there was a topless mermaid with devil horns on the inside of his right bicep. Even now, as he lifted a bucket to place it on a higher shelf, I could just make out the tips of her fins. On that same deltoid, I’d seen a woman’s lips with her tongue sticking out. I knew, like me, he had more covered by his clothing that I’d never seen and probably never would.

Why did that thought depress me so much?

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, his voice jerking me from my optical exploration of his body.

Shit . My cheeks heated with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I was just looking at your tattoos.”

Liam extended his arms in front of him and twisted them side to side, examining them. “What about them?”

“Just…curious about their stories,” I said, mimicking him with my own arms. “Obviously, tattoos fascinate me.”

Liam studied me for a moment, and time seemed to slow and stretch when our gazes locked.

What the fuck was happening to me?

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and said, “Maybe one day, I’ll tell you about them. Now”—he gestured toward the exit, and I gratefully led the way into the warmer showroom—“what do you say to dinner at Granny’s? We need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to—” I began to protest, but he cut me off.

“I want to,” he assured me. “Plus, I want to give that driver of yours a piece of my mind.”

I chuckled, not bothering to tell him no. Though he didn’t intimidate me, Liam was…imposing. Maybe he’d scare the dweeb enough to never leave me high and dry again.

“On one condition,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“I’m buying.”

“No.”

“Liam,” I warned.

“Ladies don’t pay. I can’t accept that.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like this is a date. Consider it payback for helping me tonight. ”

“I’d do that for free.”

I gaped at him. Fuck, he had to stop saying things like that to me. It was giving me all kinds of ideas, taking my mind down paths I wasn’t allowed to walk where this man was concerned.

“ Liam .”

Sensing he was on the receiving end of that signature Delatou stubbornness—and rightly so—he deflated slightly. “Fine.”

I grinned widely, pleased I’d gotten my way. Then I stepped into the office to grab my coat and keys. With the cooler sealed tightly, I made quick work of my closing routine: powering down the POS system, flipping all the lights off and lowering the blinds on the bay windows out front, then ushering Liam onto the street before I set the alarm and locked up behind me.

There wasn’t much crime to speak of in Apple Blossom Bay, but I’d just received a delivery of thousands of dollars worth of flowers, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

I stuffed my hands deep in my pockets as he walked up to Granny’s, the silence between me and Liam companionable. We knew that quiet would evaporate the second we pushed into the old tavern. The residents of Apple Blossom Bay happily and raucously enjoyed their Thursday night dinner, and I swore every set of eyes in the room was on us as Tanya, the owner, brought us to a booth in the back corner.

I couldn’t decide if it was because Liam was notoriously reclusive, or because we’d shown up together.

Likely both.

“Drinks?” she asked, glancing curiously between us.

“I’ll have the ale on tap,” Liam said.

Tanya nodded, having been at her job so long she no longer needed to even write it down. “ And for you, El?”

“Can I have hot chocolate with a shot of Rumchata?” I asked, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. “I’m still freezing.”

“Coming right up,” she said, leaving us with menus as she sped away toward the bar.

I’d been here enough times over the years that I no longer needed to look to know what I’d order, but I liked to peruse anyway, simply to see if Tanya had changed anything up since I’d last been in. She rarely did, operating on the if-it-ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it mentality, but I liked to check.

Then it occurred to me that Liam may not be nearly as familiar with the place as I was.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table as I whispered, “Have you ever been here?”

He snorted, mirroring my position, and said in a normal tone, “Of course I have, you weirdo. I like to keep to myself, but I still have to eat. I’ve been here with Vic a few times, but mostly I get takeout.”

“So what’s your favorite thing on the menu?” I asked. “And choose wisely. This could make or break our friendship.”

His brows shot up. “We’re friends now, huh?”

“Duh,” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “We bonded over flowers and douchebag delivery drivers.”

Liam sat up straighter, eyes scanning the bar. “Speaking of, where is that little shit?”

I pointed toward the bar and the guy at the end, nursing a dark soda, a plate piled high with onion rings and a burger in front of him.

Before I could protest, Liam was out of his seat, his long legs eating up the distance between us and the driver. I experienced a brief pang of guilt right before Liam reached him. After all, the kid couldn’t have been older than his mid-twenties, scrawny, a Western Michigan University ball cap settled backward over his dark hair. I realized with a start that being in his mid-twenties meant he was only a few years younger than me, but…I felt so much older. Especially after the drama of the last few months.

Still, that didn’t give him the right to be lazy.

When Liam reached the kid’s side, he took the back of his bar stool and swung it so they faced each other. Liam began talking, his expression stern, the kid leaning as far away from him as the chair could possibly permit. Liam appeared to have asked a question, glancing quickly at me before returning his attention to the kid. With a look over his shoulder, dark eyes wide in fear, he looked at Liam and nodded.

A moment later, I watched in fascination as Liam stalked back to our table. The kid signaled Tanya for a to-go box, threw a couple bills onto the bartop, and hightailed it out of the restaurant.

When Liam slid back into his side of the booth, I asked, “What exactly did you say to him?”

“Just reminded him that, while you’re perfectly capable of unloading those flowers yourself, the gentlemanly thing to do is help you. I also warned him that if I heard of this happening again, he’d be receiving another visit from me, and I won’t be so friendly next time.”

A giggle slipped free, and I clapped my hand over my mouth. “That poor kid is probably scared shitless,” I said through my fingers. “I probably shouldn’t be laughing at his pain.”

Liam sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’ll be fine. Hopefully he doesn’t give you any more trouble.”

Before I could say anything else, Tanya reappeared with our drinks, and I gratefully wrapped my hands around my mug, bringing it to my mouth for a long sip, letting the warmth of the hot chocolate seep into my body from the inside out.

“What can I get you?” Tanya asked.

“My usual,” I told her.

Tanya grinned. “One chicken parm sandwich—extra mushrooms—coming right up. You want onion rings today?”

“Nah,” I said. “Let’s make it sweet potato fries.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.” She turned to Liam. “And for you?”

His eyes never left mine as he said, “I’ll have my favorite…the chicken parm sandwich. Extra mushrooms. And onion rings.”

I gasped, and Tanya shot me a skeptical look before nodding at Liam and scurrying off.

“That is not your favorite meal here,” I said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You only ordered that because I did.”

Liam shook his head with a small laugh, reaching for the brim of his ball cap—a deep red, Chateau Delatou branded one, I noted with no small amount of satisfaction; I liked that he was wearing my last name—and flipped it backward.

Fuck .

I couldn’t explain the reaction accurately except to say my insides went molten.

Liam Danvers, with his dark hair, bright blue eyes, thick beard; that big body and long, thick fingered hands; and those fucking tree trunk thighs, was an absolute snack on any given day. Even if I was out of the dating scene right now, I could recognize a good looking man when I saw one .

But Liam with that goddamn hat turned backward, locks of his raven hair flipping over the brim, giving him a boyish charm that only added to his overall attractiveness?

He was downright devastating.

Seemingly oblivious to the mental roadblock he’d conjured with that simple, innocent move, he laughed and said, “As adorable as that would be, it really is my favorite.”

“What is?” I asked dumbly, the point of the conversation having completely vacated me.

I mean… Liam Danvers in a backward ball cap. Who could fucking blame me?

“The chicken parm sandwich?” he said, though he phrased it more like a question, his eyes narrowing on me. My face flamed, and he must’ve noticed because he added, “Are you okay?”

“Fine!” I said quickly, tone way too high to be believable. “That Rumchata is just working its magic.”

The excuse was lame, and we both knew it, but he let it go.

Desperate for a subject change, I said, “So tell me about this road trip you’re taking.”

Liam’s entire countenance lit up like I’d just flipped a switch on him, and I couldn’t help grinning in response as he launched into his plan, his fingers tracing patterns on the table as though mapping his entire route from here to Portland.

“Your brother is getting married, right?” I asked when he paused his storytelling long enough for Tanya to deliver our food.

Like I’d flipped that earlier switch that lit him up in the opposite direction, Liam’s body language shifted again, stress and tension now lining his shoulders, his jaw muscles jumping as he ground his teeth together.

Then he exhaled heavily and said, “Yeah.”

That was it. That single syllable. But I could tell there was a lot he was holding back, and I could also see that pressing the issue would be equivalent to breaking a dam.

I had no desire to see what was on the other side, not when I was still dealing with my own shit.

But I hated the thought of him embarking on that journey alone, knowing he was racing toward something that clearly caused him so much distress.

So I did the only thing I could think of to provide him even a modicum of comfort and ease.

I blurted four words.

“Take me with you.”