Free Crazy in Love by Kristin Miller Page A

bathroom.
    “Didn’t you see him there earlier?” Rachael said, picking a glob of wax off the pad of her finger.
    “Of course! I don’t mean it’s him, I mean it’s him . His people .” Running to the door, Lucy crossed her purse over her body and onto her shoulder. “Ready?”
    Rachael got the feeling if she weren’t ready, Lucy would leave her behind.
    “As I’ll ever be,” Rachael said and opened the door.
    “Oh. My.” Lucy gasped. “Limo!”
    The thing was black and stretched longer than the width of the inn. People walking the street stopped and ogled; wasn’t every day a limo cruised into Blue Lake. Cars denied the space to pass on the opposite side of the narrow road lined up behind them. The driver stepped onto the curb and opened the rear door.
    “Ms. Stone and Ms. McCoy, I presume?” he said.
    Lucy dove through the door, like Alice jumping through the limousine’s rabbit hole. “Get your behind in her, Rach! There’s champagne!”
    They drove west, out of town and toward the winery. At the last second, before the exit for StoneMill, the driver veered left off the freeway.
    There was nothing this way but old gold-mining sites.
    The driver parked not far off the road, in the middle of an empty gravel lot. He killed the engine and strode around the back end of the car to open the door. Lucy got out first.
    “Where is he?” she asked, spinning around.
    Rachael stepped out, and gazed over the grape vineyards below. StoneMill was to the right, over the freeway, but the grassy rows of the amphitheater stood out in the distance.
    “Down here,” Cole said.
    The deep rumble in his voice sparked something in her belly. How could he elicit that kind of a response so easily?
    They walked to the edge of the lot and gazed down the gentle slope of the mountain. On a raised wooden platform that had once been used for some kind of gold-mining contraption, a table and three chairs had been set up. White lights dangled down from the edges. Candlelight flickered over the table. Cole stood in the center of it all, lifting his arms from his sides.
    “Welcome to our private dinner party.” He strode to the edge, and kicked his foot on the ladder. “Come on up. There’s a kick ass view from up here!”
    Lucy took off first, nearly running down the path. Rachael followed, and climbed up the ladder after her friend. Cole helped her once she reached the top, extending his hand for her to grab ahold of.
    But when Rachael reached the top, he said, “Do you got it?”
    Of course she did. Would she have liked help? Wouldn’t have freaking hurt.
    As she climbed onto the platform and straightened, she couldn’t believe the view. It was breathtaking, with vineyards and rolling mountains as far as the eye could see. Pinks, reds, and oranges streaked across the baby-blue sky as if someone had taken a heavenly paintbrush and smeared the colors together. The air smelled of roses and grapes, sweet and sour. And in the distance, Rachael picked up the soft humming of StoneMill’s speaker system.
    “Thanks for coming tonight,” Cole said, pulling out Lucy’s chair.
    She smiled in that coy, flirty way she’d mastered so well. “Absolutely my pleasure.”
    Oh, boy.
    Rachael pulled out her own chair and sat, draping the napkin over her lap. Dinner had already been served: penne pasta with chicken and broccoli. StoneMill Pinot Grigio and French bread. Out of instinct, Rachael checked the temperature of the plate with the side of her hand. Still warm.
    Cole must’ve asked Rita to plan dinner so it’d be ready exactly when the limo pulled up. Where was Rita now? Hiding in the bushes around the base of the platform?
    “Are you ready for tonight?” Lucy asked, folding her hands over her plate. “I bet you get nervous before a show.”
    “I wouldn’t say I’m nervous.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s more like that anxious, excited feeling you get before you have sex with someone for the first time.”
    The air