Vineyard Dreams (Beyond The Red Carpet #4)

Chapter 11

11

T he knock at the door startled Harper, her book slipping from her fingers and thumping on the carpet. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was just past 10 PM. Frowning, she rose from the couch and padded to the window. She pushed the curtain aside, peering out into the darkness. The porch light illuminated a familiar blue truck in her driveway.

What was Elle doing here so late?

Harper made her way to the front door and pulled it open. Elle stood on her porch, but even in the dim lighting, Harper could see that Elle had been crying.

“Elle? What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I know it’s late,” she said in a rush. “I just...” She exhaled as she ran a hand through her hair. “I needed to see you.”

Before Harper could respond, Elle stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around Harper.

Harper stiffened for a moment, taken aback by the suddenness of the embrace. But as Elle’s arms tightened around her, Harper melted into the hug. The warmth of Elle’s body seeped through Harper’s thin cotton shirt, and she caught the faint scent of her perfume. Harper’s hands found their way to Elle’s back, settling on her waist as Elle pulled back.

“I... I just saw your movie.” Elle’s voice cracked, her hands lingering on Harper’s shoulders. Tears glistened in her eyes. “The scene where Clara—” She broke off, shaking her head. “God, Harper. The way you captured Lena’s pain, her loss. I felt every moment of it.”

Harper’s throat tightened. She’d lived with Lena’s story for so long, carried the weight of it through months of filming, but seeing Elle’s raw reaction brought it all rushing back.

“Come sit down.” Harper gestured toward the living room, her hand finding the small of Elle’s back. But Elle hesitated at the threshold, running her fingers through her disheveled hair.

“I must look awful,” Elle said, wiping at her cheeks. “I didn’t even stop at home first. I just... I had to come straight here.”

Harper shook her head, a reassuring smile tugging at her lips. The words “you look beautiful” were the tip of her tongue, but she caught herself, swallowing them back. “I’m just glad you’re here,” she said instead. She gestured towards the living room. “Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll grab us a bottle of wine.”

In the kitchen, Harper took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t deny the growing attraction she felt towards Elle. It had happened enough times and clearly, it wasn’t going away, but she also knew that Elle was here seeking comfort, a friend to talk to, so Harper had to find a way to forget about it.

Harper selected a bottle of pinot noir from the wine rack, the smooth glass cool against her palm. She grabbed two glasses and made her way back to the living room, her heart beating a little faster with each step. As she entered, her gaze fell upon Elle, who was sitting on the couch, one hand absentmindedly running through her chestnut hair. The sight made Harper’s breath slow.

There was something undeniably alluring about Elle. Before, Harper might have put it down to the confidence Elle had when it came to her knowledge of wine and running her business, but this version of Elle that was in front of her now was almost the opposite of that. Her hair was slightly mussed, and she looked a little on edge, her foot tapping against the floor. There was none of that confidence, yet Harper could barely take her eyes off her.

Harper approached the couch, setting the glasses on the coffee table with a soft clink. Elle looked up, her hazel eyes still glistening with the remnants of tears. A flicker of something passed between them, but maybe Harper was just seeing what she wanted to see.

Harper poured the wine, the rich burgundy liquid swirling in the glasses. She handed one to Elle, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. The contact sent a shiver through her, and she found herself wondering if Elle felt it too.

Harper settled onto the couch beside Elle, her heart racing as their thighs brushed. She tried to focus on the wine in her hand, on the weight of the glass, the coolness of the stem against her fingers. Anything to distract from the warmth of Elle’s body so close to hers.

Elle took a sip of her wine, her gaze fixed on the dark liquid. “Harper, I... I’m so sorry about the other day. In the wine cellar. I had no idea...” Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head.

Harper swallowed. She’d been trying not to think about that moment, the way the walls had seemed to close in on her, the way her lungs had refused to fill with air. “You have nothing to apologize for, Elle. Really. You couldn’t have known.”

Elle met her gaze then, and Harper felt her breath catch in her throat. Elle was beautiful. The way her hair fell softly around her face, the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes.

Harper took a sip of her wine, trying to push those thoughts aside. This wasn’t the time.

“After seeing the movie,” Elle said softly, “I can understand why it affected you like that.” She took a sip of wine. “The way you portrayed Lena’s pain, her grief... it was so raw, so real. It was absolutely mesmerizing.”

Harper swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. “It felt real,” she admitted. “Every take, every scene. I’ve had the chance to play some amazing characters over the years, work with some of the best directors, with great scripts, but there was just something special about this part. And I lost myself in it like I never have before.”

Elle reached out, her hand finding Harper’s. Her skin was soft, her touch gentle. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. To immerse yourself in that kind of pain, that kind of loss.”

Harper’s heart stuttered at the contact. She wanted to turn her hand over, to intertwine her fingers with Elle’s. But she resisted, instead offering a small smile. “It was... intense. But it was important to me to get it right. To honor Lena’s story.”

Elle nodded, her thumb brushing over the back of Harper’s hand. The small gesture sent a tingling sensation up her arm, and she found herself noticing the little things about Elle that she’d been trying to ignore. The tiny freckle just below her left eye. The softness of her skin. The way her lips…

Harper took another sip of wine, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t let herself get carried away. Not now. Probably not ever.

“I’m so sorry for just showing up like this,” Elle said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s late, I know. I just… I had this overwhelming need to see you as soon as I left the theater.”

Harper’s heart fluttered. The sincerity in Elle’s eyes, the vulnerability in her voice, it was intoxicating. She wanted to reach out, to touch her, to reassure her. But she stopped herself. She wasn’t about to cross a line she wasn’t sure Elle wanted to cross.

“It’s okay,” Harper managed, her voice a little shaky. “Really. I’m glad you’re here.” And she was. Despite the late hour, despite the unexpected visit. Despite this new problem of finding it impossible to look at Elle without thinking that she was stunning.

“I knew what the movie was about but it just… it hit me hard. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it as I drove back. About Lena, about Clara. About everything they went through.”

Harper nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She knew exactly what Elle meant.

“It’s hard to imagine,” Elle continued, “what it must have been like back then. The fear, the prejudice. The constant threat of violence.”

Harper took a sip of her wine. “It was a different time,” she said quietly.

Elle’s gaze met hers. “I just can’t believe that I didn’t know her name before.”

“There are so many stories like Lena’s,” Harper said softly. “Stories of courage, of resilience, of love in the face of adversity. Stories that deserve to be told.”

Elle nodded, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “You told her story beautifully, Harper.”

A warmth spread through Harper’s chest at Elle’s words. It wasn’t the praise itself that moved her, but the genuine emotion behind it. The way Elle’s voice softened when she spoke Harper’s name, the way her hand lingered on Harper’s, the way her gaze held a depth of understanding that Harper had rarely encountered before.

“It was important to me,” Harper admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elle squeezed Harper’s hand, her touch sending a ripple of something electric through her. “You did more than that, Harper. You made me feel. You made me think.”

Harper’s heart skipped a beat. She wanted to lean in, to close the distance between them, to feel the warmth of Elle’s body against hers. But she hesitated, unsure if she was reading the signals right. Was this just the aftermath of a powerful movie? Or was there something more?

Harper broke their eye contact and topped up their glasses. She had no idea how this had happened. She’d admired Elle from the first time they’d met, but now, Harper felt like she couldn’t go back to that. She was already falling for Elle, someone who had been nothing but friendly, welcoming.

She couldn’t mess this up with Elle. She just couldn’t.

The second bottle of Pinot Noir breathed on the coffee table. Harper watched as Elle swirled the wine in her glass. They’d polished off the first bottle with surprising ease, the conversation flowing as smoothly as the wine. The initial heaviness that Elle had carried into the house had dissipated, replaced by a relaxed warmth that Harper found utterly captivating. They’d talked about Lena for a while longer, but then the conversation drifted away from the film, and Elle had steered it towards Harper’s personal life.

“So,” Elle had asked, “is there anyone special in your life?”

Harper had hesitated, swirling the wine in her own glass, the question hanging in the air between them.

Elle had filled the silence. “What struck me about your performance the most was that scene with Clara and the raw grief that you captured so well. Thinking about it now, I guess, I just assumed that you had somewhere to pull that from, that you’d loved someone like that before.”

“No,” Harper admitted finally, her voice soft. “I never have. I’ve had meaningful relationships, but nothing like that. Nothing that lasted more than a year.”

“Really?” Elle raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Harper had laughed. “Relationships in Hollywood are… complicated.”

Now, Harper was topping up their glasses again. She was buzzed but nicely so. She wasn’t at the point yet of worrying about saying something she shouldn’t, although if she wasn’t careful, that could easily happen.

Harper asked the question that had been on her lips since Elle had asked her if she was seeing anyone. “So… You asked me earlier if I was seeing anyone.”

Elle’s eyes met hers for a few seconds before she looked away. She took a sip of her wine, her gaze lingering on the glass for a moment before returning to Harper.

Harper kept going, her heart tapping a quick rhythm against her ribs. “What about you? Have you… Have you dated anyone since…?” She trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question. Since Stephanie.

A shadow passed over Elle’s face before a small, almost wistful smile came to her lips. “No,” she answered, her voice soft.

Harper nodded before taking a sip of her own wine. She wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous. It was just a question, after all. A simple one.

“It’s hard,” Elle continued. “Putting yourself out there again. After such a long time.” Elle met her gaze. “It’s not that I haven’t wanted to,” she admitted. “But there’s a part of me that’s still… Afraid, I guess.”

Harper reached out, her hand hovering over Elle’s for a moment before gently resting on top of it.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Harper said softly, her thumb brushing over Elle’s knuckles.

Elle squeezed her hand, her gaze holding Harper’s with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. “It’s just… it’s been so long since I’ve felt… this.”

“This?” Harper echoed, her heart pounding in her chest. She barely broke their eye contact as she put her glass on the coffee table and faced Elle fully. Surely, she’d misheard her.

Elle’s eyes searched hers, her gaze filled with both vulnerability and desire. “This spark” she said, her voice husky.

A warmth spread through Harper, a slow burn that started in her chest and radiated outwards. Spark . The word hung in the air between them, charged with an unspoken energy. She felt it too, a pull towards Elle that she hadn’t felt in... well, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt anything like it. Not since Caroline, but Harper pushed her ex out of her mind just as quickly as she’d entered it. Elle was nothing like Caroline. Well, they were probably about the same age, but that was where the similarities ended.

Elle’s hand tightened around hers, her thumb stroking the back of Harper’s hand in a slow, deliberate caress. The simple gesture sent a wave of goosebumps rippling across Harper’s skin. The air crackled with anticipation.

Harper’s gaze dropped to their intertwined hands, her thumb tracing the delicate lines of Elle’s palm. She wanted to look up, to meet Elle’s eyes, but she was almost afraid to.

“I...” Harper started, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat, trying to find the right words. “I feel it too.”

Elle’s thumb continued its slow, rhythmic caress. Harper’s gaze finally lifted, meeting Elle’s. The intensity in Elle’s eyes, the raw emotion that shimmered just beneath the surface, took Harper’s breath away.

Elle’s hand moved from Harper’s, her fingers gently cupping Harper’s cheek. The warmth of her touch sent a wave of heat through Harper’s body, a fluttering sensation that centered in the pit of her stomach. Her breath hitched, her gaze locked on Elle’s.

The space between them closed, their lips brushing in a feather-light touch that sent a shockwave through Harper’s system. Her heart raced as Elle’s lips pressed against hers, soft and tentative. She responded instinctively, her own lips moving in a gentle caress. The kiss was slow, exploratory, a delicate dance of give and take.

Elle’s hand slid from Harper’s cheek to the nape of her neck, sliding beneath her hair. Harper’s own hands found their way to Elle’s waist, her fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt.

The world around them faded away, and Harper’s mind went blissfully blank, all thoughts of the vineyard, of her career, of the expectations weighing on her shoulders, melting away.

Elle’s tongue brushed against Harper’s lower lip, a silent request for permission. Harper granted it willingly, parting her lips to allow Elle to deepen the kiss. A soft moan escaped her throat as their tongues met, a slow, sensual slide that sent a shiver through her.

Time seemed to stand still, the seconds stretching into minutes as they lost themselves in the kiss. Harper’s fingers tightened on Elle’s waist, pulling her closer, needing to feel the warmth of her body against her own.

When they finally parted, both breathless, Harper rested her forehead against Elle’s. Her heart was pounding, her skin tingling. She opened her eyes slowly, meeting Elle’s gaze as she pulled back.

In the depths of those hazel eyes, Harper saw a reflection of her own emotions - desire, uncertainty, and a vulnerability that made her heartache. She wanted to say something, to put into words the feelings swirling inside her, but she couldn’t find the words.

Instead, she leaned in again, capturing Elle’s lips in another soft, lingering kiss, but it wasn’t long before Harper was deepening the kiss, her fingers sliding into Elle’s soft hair. A low moan escaped Elle’s lips, and that only urged her on.

Then, just as quickly as it began, Elle pulled away. Harper’s hands fell to her sides, a sense of disorientation washing over her.

“I’m so sorry,” Elle breathed, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t… I just offered to get into a business arrangement with you. I can’t believe I just kissed you.” She ran a hand through her hair.

“Hey…” Harper reached out, her hand hovering hesitantly before settling on Elle’s arm. The warmth of Elle’s skin beneath her fingertips sent a small jolt through her. “It’s okay.”