As I was about to answer, she looked up. “Why does it feel like it’s about to rain?”
“Because it is.”
Brooke’s gaze snapped back to me. “What do you mean?”
“Cumulus clouds. They’ve been forming since we got off the boat.” I pointed back up to the sky. “Those fluffy, cotton ball guys. Which can also be a predictor of a thunderstorm, but not today. No drop in temperature. No change in wind direction.”
“I feel like you know...everything,” she said, right as I felt the first drop of rain.
“When you grow up on a vineyard, you develop a solid relationship with the weather.”
“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, head back?”
I nodded toward her wine glass. “Finish it,” I said, doing the same. I only gave each of us an ounce or two, figuring we’d be getting wet out here.
“Ugh, bossy Cosimo.”
“I notice that you listened.”
She shrugged. “Maybe sometimes I don’t mind it.”
“Sometimes?” I took her glass and put it with mine on the ground next to the bottle. “Like when?”
“Like when you tell me to do something I want to do anyway.”
“Like finishing your wine to free up your hands?” I closed the distance between us.
“Yeah,” she said, as more drops fell. “Like that.”
“For future reference, I’m curious...” I reached for Brooke’s neck and pulled her toward me. “Anything else?”
She swallowed, looked into my eyes, and nodded. Her lips parted.
“Tell me.”
“You’re going to make me say it?”
No, I wasn’t. It didn’t matter if she said it aloud or not. Brooke had just given me exactly what I needed to ensure this would be one night she’d never forget.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
brooke
It wasas if Mother Nature knew this night was big. As she unleashed, Cos did too. He pulled me into his arms, and our mouths slammed together. His hands were everywhere at once, but I was okay with that.
My hands were too.
I’d ached all day to run my fingers over the lines that separated the muscles in his biceps. A few hours ago, that alone would have been heaven. But now, with the feel of his lips against mine, his tongue teasing and coaxing my own, I groaned as he tore himself from me, the rain falling steadily now.
Cos ripped off his tee, and before I could fully appreciate each ridge of his abs, wondering how he could drink so much wine, eat pizza, and look like that, he leaned down to the bottle. He folded his tee and placed it over the bottle opening, standing.
“Can’t let water get in there.”
Without his glasses, or shirt, this very wet man could not possibly have looked more different than the one I met. That Cosimo had been stressed, uptight. This one looked as if he was about to ravage me. And I was here for it.
“We could take it inside,” I said.
He pulled me back to him. “That doesn’t sound as much fun.”