The Vintner and The Vixen

Chapter 7

Jacques woke with a pounding headache. He rolled over, but the empty sheets taunted him. Even when he was married, Clarisse had always insisted on having her own room. So why did his bed seem so empty now?

A faint buzzing sound infiltrated his brain. Either a swarm of bees had invaded his bedroom or a gardener was on a drunken rampage with a hedge trimmer. Either way, Jacques wasn't going back to sleep. He flopped out of bed and peeked out the curtain to see if the topiary unicorn stallions were now all geldings. But aside from horrifically blinding sunlight, the garden was clear of crazed staff. And the sound appeared to be coming from the cottage.

What was the woman up to now? Maybe if he took her coffee and pastries again she'd shut the hell up. He could also deliver the maintenance invoice and sort out the land issue before the grape harvest.

When he parked his grandfather's electric golf cart in front of the cottage the noise was deafening. No point knocking; she'd never hear him. He ventured around the side of the building carefully, in case he startled Princess and ended up gelded himself. The dog was nowhere to be seen. But Maya was up a ladder, clad in overalls, wearing a hard hat with full-face protector, thick gloves, and wielding a big-ass chainsaw. Another chunk of the huge log fell to the ground. She leaned back, her head cocked to one side as if considering her next cut, and wobbled on the ladder. He raced over to stabilize it before she had a nasty accident.

She shut off the chainsaw, but his ears still buzzed with the noise. When she raised the face shield her smile blinded him almost as much as the sun had earlier.

"I'm going to get you a cape."

Every time he talked with her, he felt he'd walked in in the middle of the conversation. "A cape?"

"Yeah, you're always rescuing me. You need a cape. Any hope I could convince you to show up in Lycra next time?"

"Not a chance."

"Pity. You've got an ass that could really rock the Spandex."

"Thanks, I think. Can I ask what you're doing? And don't you dare say—"

"Building a catapult?"

"Dieu, woman, why is it so hard to get a straight answer out of you?"

She was still several rungs up the ladder, and his head felt like it was about to fall off. Which in his current state would be a blessed mercy. "Because you ask too-obvious questions. I can't help teasing."

"Can you tease at ground level? I've got a killer headache, and staring up at you is making it worse."

She climbed down, carefully placing the guard on the chainsaw. "I rather liked having the height advantage. But you do look like you've just had the shit scared out of you, so I'll be nice for once."

"I brought coffee and pastries if you promise not to use the chainsaw again until I feel better."

"Deal. I need to map out the rest of my cuts anyway."

She pulled off the hard hat and shook her hair loose. The auburn strands caught the light and it was like his own private sunset. When she started to unzip the coveralls he made a strategic retreat to get the promised breakfast. He was in no state to deal with a disrobing Maya.

How the hell had he missed the massive log in her back yard yesterday? Probably because it had been dark and he'd been concentrating too hard on her.

When he entered her kitchen through the open back door, she'd set the small table. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, the tattoo at the base of her neck calling out to be explored by his lips.