Just Be Her Read online

  Preston had arrived at Hazelgreen Manor that afternoon with more luggage than Alex had. The staff had taken his things to a guest room—on the opposite side of the giant house to where I was staying—while Oren and I gave him a tour.

  It was a much shorter version of the one he’d given me when I first got there, but I got a disturbing amount of pleasure from holding his hand the entire time. It almost took the edge off constantly worrying I was about to get caught.

  When Preston spotted Alex’s expensive suitcase in my room—not Oren’s bedroom—he narrowed suspicious eyes on me, but Oren cracked a joke about closet space in these old houses, and I seamlessly picked up the line, remarking that I loved the view from this room and used it to work and read. The book on the nightstand supported my lie.

  Oren expertly breezed through every potentially dangerous topic or question, and George was like a fucking ninja. On several occasions, he’d appeared out of thin air and interjected a comment or question that saved my ass.

  Oren was helping me keep a secret from Preston, but George was helping me keep the other, related secret from everyone. So many damn secrets! I felt like I was on a soap opera. I was half expecting a heavily made-up woman to come around a corner and slap me dramatically.

  “So you’re in the wine business too, Preston?” the husband of the strawberry blonde asked.

  “I am a Zamorano.” He smiled, a little stiffly this time. “But I have no stake in the winery.”

  “Oh? I thought it was a family business.” The man picked up his glass, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

  “It is. Zamorano Wines has stayed in the family since it was established in 1788. But we have a large family and . . .” He turned to me and smiled. “Would you like to tell the history of our family legacy, cousin?”

  I smiled just as politely and dug my fork into the fondant that had been delivered to the table a few minutes earlier. The candlelight glinted off the ridiculously shiny dessert fork. Why the fuck do I know what a dessert fork is?

  “I’m enjoying dessert too much. You tell it.” I shoved an unladylike portion into my mouth to punctuate my refusal, but Preston was the kind of guy who loved the sound of his voice. It didn’t take much to get him to do the talking.

  “Alexandria and I have a common great-great—et cetera—grandparent, Emilio Zamorano. He’s seven generations back. In 1788, he came to America with his wife and cuttings of Merlot and Verdejo from his father’s vineyard in Spain. He purchased land in California, planted the grapes, established Zamorano Wines, and had a son.”

  The other conversations at the table ceased. He had everyone’s attention and was lapping it up, gesturing with his hands as he told the story.

  “When Emilio died, the vineyard was passed down to his son, and then the next son and so on for four generations. Luckily, there was only one male child in each generation until Alberto Zamorano had two sons. He left the winery to Alexandria’s great-great-grandfather. My great-great-grandfather, the younger son, was more interested in gold mining, looking for a quick buck.”

  Everyone laughed lightly along with Preston. I had another bite of fondant.

  “Skip forward to the next generation, and Zamorano Wines is prospering. We’ve purchased more land. We’re starting to get a reputation, exporting to other regions of the continent, then even to Europe. Meanwhile, my great-grandfather has found himself in a spot of trouble. A series of unfortunate events leads to his bankruptcy, and he goes to his cousin for help. He’s given a job on the winery, meets a good woman, and gets married, eventually negotiates for his half of the Zamorano family to buy into the business.

  “The business continues to prosper, but my grandfather and Alexandria’s have a falling out, and my grandfather is purchased out of the business. He never spoke about the incident, and my father didn’t seem to know a single thing about it. He was the kind of man who wanted to know everything, rest his soul, but that’s one secret he never got to the bottom of. You don’t know what caused the fight, do you, cousin?”

  All eyes turned to me. I paused with my last forkful of fondant halfway to my lips. “No clue.” I bugged my eyes out and smiled.

  “If you ask me, it was probably over a woman.” Preston slapped the table, and everyone burst into laughter.

  Oren’s warmth pressed into my side as his arm rested on the back of my chair. “You doing OK?” he whispered into my ear, his fingers caressing my bare shoulder.

  I swallowed the rich chocolate and licked my lips. When I turned to face him, I found him staring at my mouth. I immediately wanted to lean forward, close the distance, and lick his lips, but I just nodded and placed a hand on his thigh, melting into his casual embrace.

  Preston was finishing his story. “Alexandria’s side of the family has kept Zamorano Wines in the family generation after generation. A knack for business runs in our blood though. My father owned several restaurants up and down the West Coast, and I’ve followed in his footsteps. So I don’t officially have a stake in Zamorano Wines, but my ancestor established it, and our families have remained close, so I do feel connected to it.”

  “What a rich and fascinating family history,” Caroline remarked, and her friend piped in excitedly.

  “Oh, yes! I was riveted. Someone should make it into a movie.”

  Everyone laughed again and started speculating about which Hollywood actors would play whom. It seemed everyone had had a little too much to drink. Even Oren’s father, usually surly and scowling at everything, was smiling widely and talking animatedly.

  “I just have to say”—Caroline raised her voice, drawing everyone’s attention—“it is so nice to see such a strong sense of family. I mean, the two of you are what? Fourth, fifth cousins? And yet here you are, still in each other’s lives. Family’s so important.”

  She fiddled with the pearls at her neck and turned her misty eyes to Oren, her gaze lingering on his arm around my shoulders.

  “And that’s enough of that.” Oren senior pulled Caroline’s wine glass away exaggeratedly and cracked up laughing, setting the entire table off again. She slapped him lightly on the shoulder, but she was giggling too.

  “Well, we have a rich history, and we make an effort to honor it.” Preston reached over and covered my hand with his, giving me a warm smile. “Isn’t that right, Alexandria?”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” I smiled back at him.

  I endured about another hour of having to pretend and lie about more things than I could keep straight in my head. Then the guests left, and everyone headed up to bed. Oren and I were the last ones to climb the big staircase, hand in hand.

  As we reached the top, he pulled me to a stop and backed me up against the ornate timber railing.

  “I was thinking,” he leaned in and whispered against my cheek, his breath sending tingles down my spine, “it may be better if you stayed in my room for the next few nights. Just so we don’t raise any suspicions with your cousin.”

  “Right, just to make sure we don’t raise any suspicions.” I smiled against his cheek and gave him a kiss. He gripped my hips and pressed his lips against mine, bending me backward over the railing a little bit.

  “Let’s get to bed then, wife-to-be.” He took my hand and headed for his bedroom, so he didn’t see when my face fell. I was really starting to hate being reminded of all the things I was lying about.

  I pulled my hand out of his. “All my things are in the other room . . .”

  “OK. Do what you’ve got to do, and I’ll meet you in my room.” He gave me a quick kiss on the forehead and turned away, not even realizing that was my lame-ass attempt to get out of staying in his room. If I was being honest with myself, I hadn’t really tried all that hard.

  I went to my room and smoked a cigarette. The intense day had made me feel like I was on a knife’s edge the entire time. I hadn’t even been able to drink to deal with it. As the smoke filled my lungs and melted some of the tension from my shoulders, I contemplated chain-smo
king another two cigarettes, then realized I had only three left in the pack.

  I knew Oren would come looking for me eventually, and he’d be able to smell the smoke on me, so I showered, brushed my teeth, and put on a pair of Alex’s silk pajamas. Then I took a deep breath and headed to his room.

  Just as I reached his door, footsteps sounded on the stairs, and I turned to find George climbing up. He spotted me before I reached the door.

  “I was just coming to check on you.” He narrowed his eyes, taking in the skimpy sleep shorts and tank top and my position next to Oren’s door.

  “I’m doing fine, all things considered. Thank you so much. You saved my ass on more than one occasion today.” We were both keeping our voices low. Oren was just on the other side of the door, and you never knew when someone was lurking around a corner.

  “Don’t mention it.” He sighed and propped his hands on his hips. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He raised his eyebrows and tipped his head toward the door.

  “No. I’m pretty sure this is a terrible, awful, disastrous idea. But I’m also pretty sure I won’t be able to stop myself from going in there.” That was the closest I’d ever come to admitting I felt more for Oren than just sexual attraction. The heaviness of the confession hung in the quiet hallway between us.

  George looked genuinely worried. “Shit. Toni . . .” He shook his head at the ground before looking up at me with pity in his eyes.

  I fucking hated it when people looked at me with pity. There was nothing he could say I hadn’t already said to myself. No argument he could make I hadn’t already tried to batter into my own stupid head. “I know, George. I just . . . I can’t.”

  I let myself into Oren’s room and closed the door, closed off my conversation with George.

  Oren was already in bed, shirtless, the covers pooling around his hips. A single bedside lamp illuminated the room in a warm glow. He looked like he was already asleep, his face mushed into a pillow.

  George was right. I was right. This was dangerous, bad, and I was only making it worse by being here. The best thing to do would be to turn around and go back to my room.

  He opened his eyes and smiled, those soft, full lips curving around his perfect teeth. He flipped the edge of the covers back and patted the empty side of the bed. Any resolve I had, any common sense that had been making so many good points a moment earlier, disappeared, chased away by his brilliant smile.

  I went to him, my feet carrying me across the floor of their own volition, and crawled into the bed. He traced my cheek with his fingertips, his touch feather soft as he brushed some hair off my face. He leaned in and gave me a gentle kiss, full of emotion and tenderness.

  Leaning back, he flicked the light off, plunging us into darkness, but in the next instant his strong hand was on my hip as he scooted closer to me. Our feet tangled, and I found myself tucked into his chest, breathing him in as he ran his hands through my hair.

  It felt so natural, as though we’d been sleeping next to each other our whole lives.

  We fit.

  …

  T: Hey, do you think I could even fit into your world?

  A: What do you mean? No one suspects a thing.

  T: No. Not as you. Not pretend. Like, as me—just more polite and better dressed and whatever. But still me.

  T: Do you think people would accept me?

  A: What is this about? I thought you didn’t give a shit what people thought.

  T: You’re right. I don’t.

  T: Never mind.

  A: Toni? What’s going on?

  T: Nothing. It was stupid.

  A: You can tell me.

  A: Toni?

  A: Hello?

  Eighteen

  Alex

  The tires of Andre’s truck crunched on the gravel as he pulled into a spot and killed the engine. I looked around, desperately seeking any clues.

  “Did you bring me out here to kill me?” I backed myself against the door and widened my eyes. We’d driven about half an hour out of the city and into a more remote area. Other than the parking lot with about a dozen other cars and a path leading around a bend, the only visible things were bushes and trees, especially those drooping, furry ones common in Louisiana.

  “No.” Andre chuckled, then deadpanned, “This is nowhere near remote enough to dump a body.”

  We both burst out laughing, but I slapped him on the shoulder—it felt like hitting stone. “Tell me what we’re doing.”

  My tone was whiny, but I really hated surprises. Andre had knocked on my door early that morning and asked if I had any plans. All I planned to do was keep exploring New Orleans, maybe do some washing. When he offered to show me another experience, I didn’t hesitate, but then he refused to tell me exactly what we were doing. I’d spent most of the ride trying to coax, beg, and threaten the information out of him.

  “You really have to know everything, don’t you?” he teased.

  I shrugged. “I run a business. It’s my job to know everything.”

  “It’s OK to relax sometimes, Alex, to let someone else make the decisions.”

  I liked that he called me Alex when no one else was around. At the bar, I was Toni, but out here, wherever here was, I could have the best of both worlds. I could take a break from my real life and still be me. Stressful as it had been at the time, I was really glad Andre had figured me out.

  I chose to ignore his sage advice. “So are we going to sit in the car all day?”

  “No. We’re going in a much louder, much more exciting vehicle.” He grinned, his dark eyes sparkling.

  I frowned, but he was out of the car before I could ask. I jumped out and hurried after him down the path. “What kind of vehicle might that be?”

  “An airboat.”

  “A what?” The path was shorter than it looked. A low building came into view, water visible beyond it.

  “It’s like a little boat with a giant propeller at the back. It’s the best way to explore the bayou.”

  “The bayou?” I glimpsed the boats he’d described lined up on a small wooden dock.

  “You can’t say you’ve seen New Orleans if you haven’t seen the bayou.” He paused near the bottom of some stairs leading up to a narrow porch and turned to face me. “My buddy owns a few airboats. Takes people out fishing and shit from time to time. I called in a favor.”

  Excitement bubbled up, making me want to jump up and down on the spot like a toddler, but I just grinned and gripped Andre’s forearm. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really, really.”

  I couldn’t wait!

  “My god, this thing is like a marble pillar.” Momentarily distracted, I lifted his forearm between us, digging my fingers into the muscle.

  Andre chuckled and curled his fingers into a fist. The muscle and sinew under my hands rippled and then solidified. I ran my hand down his arm to his wrist and took a step closer.

  The screen door banged against the side of the house, and we stepped away from each other to look at the man striding out.

  “Andre! Long time no see, man.” He was shirtless and tanned, his messy hair poking out from under a trucker’s hat.

  “Hey, Dale. How you doin’?” Andre met him at the bottom of the stairs, and they shook hands.

  “This your little lady?” Dale flashed me a genuine, crooked-toothed grin.

  “Who you calling little?” I channeled Toni’s attitude and propped my hands on my hips but let the amusement show in my face.

  Dale held his belly as he laughed. “I like her.”

  “Me too.” Andre gave me a warm look, and I felt myself begin to blush.

  Dale threw some keys, which Andre caught effortlessly, and shouted for us to have fun as he headed back inside.

  Andre led me to the nearest airboat and helped me inside. It felt like standing on a tin can. The bottom was completely flat, but the bench seat was padded. The giant fan thing at the back looked like it might suck me in once it got going.

 
; Andre handed me earmuffs as we sat down. “These things are ridiculously loud, so don’t take these off. Make sure you keep your butt planted to the seat, and hold on to the rail.”

  Those were all the instructions I got before he settled his own earmuffs over his ears and turned to face the front. I hurried to protect my ears as the engine came to life with a deafening roar.

  I made an embarrassing squealing sound in surprise, but thankfully it wasn’t audible over the noise.

  Andre gave me a questioning look, I nodded, and we were off. The noise intensified as he pulled away from the dock and took off like a bat out of hell.

  Air whipped at me, the breeze cooling me down as trees and murky water blurred past. I held on to the metal bar in front of me for dear life, but I couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. It was downright beautiful out there. The bayou was a maze of wide and narrow channels, some ending in dead ends, some interconnected. Every once in a while, we passed another airboat. A few were smaller, carrying just the driver, while others were three times the size of ours, a dozen tourists packed onto rows of seats.

  After zipping around some of the open areas, making my heart repeatedly jump into my throat with sharp turns and complicated maneuvers, Andre steered the airboat into a narrow tunnel and slowed right down. The noise from the engine dulled, as did the light. Only a few beams of sunlight shot down through the thick foliage. Trees on either side joined above our heads, occasionally making us duck to avoid low-hanging, mossy vines. I craned my neck to gawk at the scenery.

  Andre killed the engine, and the boat bobbed to a stop. He whipped his earmuffs off, and I followed suit. Angling his body toward mine, he gripped the back of my seat and pointed. “Gators.”

  I whipped my head around, my eyes going wide. “What? Where? Should we go?”