The Christmas Swap, стр. 30

“America? Yeah, actually, I was there a couple of years back. I took a bit of a sabbatical once the winery was in good shape and I could step away for a bit. My mate, Twoey—that’s my business partner—he kept an eye on things while I travelled.”

“Twoey?”

“Nickname. Long story.” He chuckled to himself.

Jules guessed she wasn’t going to hear it, so she went with the sabbatical. “So, how long were you away?”

“It was a couple of months—California, Oregon, Washington.”

“Oh, I love that part of the country. What time of year were you there?”

“Your autumn.”

“So, picking season, then.” He smiled. “Couldn’t stay away from the grapes?” she teased.

“Something like that—a working holiday.” They had slowed down, and Matt was searching for a parking spot, which was looking less and less likely. It seemed that everyone in Melbourne had left the markets and was now at the beach.

She kept an eye out as Matt continued. “Twoey and I had worked our asses off, see, and there’s so much more to it than the wine—the finances, the tax laws, marketing. All that started to get in the way of why I’d gone into it in the first place.”

Jules found herself nodding in agreement. She was due for a bit of a shakeup in her career.

“So, as I said, I took myself off to America, teed up stints at some wineries, and got mucky.” The word didn’t translate, and he must have seen that on her face.

“I got my hands dirty. I picked grapes, I sorted the berries from the stems, I worked beside the vintners, doing whatever they asked. A lot of it was menial to start with but once they realised I knew my stuff, we’d get stuck in, you know? Figuring out how to make the best wine from those grapes.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“It was. It reenergised me to come home and throw myself back into it. A bit like what you were saying before—a renewed perspective.” They shared a smile across the car. “Here we are.” She’d been so caught up in his story, she hadn’t even realised they’d pulled over.

Matt performed a perfect parallel park and as soon as they got out, Jules headed straight for the water, slipping off her sandals and stepping onto the sand. She took in a huge lungful of the briny air as she approached the gently lapping waves, and Matt came and stood beside her.

“What do you think?”

She grinned at him. “I can see what you mean about the beach thing,” she conceded, “but otherwise, I love it. Doesn’t it smell amazing?” She took another deep breath. “Hey, yesterday when I was walking along the marina in Docklands, I noticed it smelled really briny there too, but that’s a river, yeah?”

“It is, but it’s tidal. There’s backwash from the bay, so there’s usually a layer of saltwater on the top. That’s why it’s kinda murky too. It’s constantly churning up the silt on the bottom. Not the prettiest river, the Yarra.”

“I don’t know. I love the way the city is built around it. I mean all those bridges. I think it’s really pretty.” Matt looked at her in a way that made her wonder what he was thinking.

“So, are you coming in?” She unbuttoned her shorts and slid them down her legs, then pulled her T-shirt over her head. She stood in her yellow bikini, hitting Matt with a look that said, “come on.”

He seemed dumbstruck—and as though he was making a concerted effort not to look at her body. She grinned at him. She knew she had a terrific body—she worked out nearly every day, even in the dead of winter.

“Well?”

He put his hand on the back of his neck and dropped his head, grinning. “Didn’t bring my swimmers. And it’s kinda cold.”

“Lame!”

“After you, then.” His arm swept in a wide arc of mock chivalry.

Jules strode into the water up to her mid-thigh, paused for a beat and swore loudly. Matt threw his head back and laughed as she spun around and jogged out of the water.

“How? It’s like ninety degrees today,” she laughed, her skin prickling with goose bumps.

Matt raised his eyebrows at her and grinned with an “I told you so” look. It was the first time she’d noticed he had dimples. She was still staring at them when he added, “Wait here. I have a beach towel in my truck.” He was gone less than a minute, but it was long enough for her to start shivering.

“Here.” He wrapped the striped towel around her. “You have to be a masochist to swim in the bay. The footy clubs send their teams down here to do laps when they lose.”

“Really?” She pulled the towel tightly around her.

“Nah.”

She laughed at her own expense but stopped as her teeth started to chatter. Concern etched his face. “Geez, you really are cold. Come ’ere.” He stepped forward and wrapped Jules up in his arms, rubbing her back through the towel.

It was completely unexpected, but it felt … what? It felt right.

After a moment, Matt stood back, the furrow of concern still between his brows. His hand lifted, as though he was going to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, but he hesitated. Then she watched as his eyes dropped from hers and settled on her mouth. For a moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her.

“Well, your lips aren’t turning blue, so I think you’ll survive.”

Oh, so not a kiss then. Matt stood back and Jules felt the absence of him—something else that was unexpected. “Come on, pop your clothes back on. I want you to meet Callie and Thea.”

She composed herself, consciously slipping back into I’m-just-a-friend-of-a-friend mode. “Oh, sure,” she said, dropping the towel and stepping into her shorts. “Can we walk, or do we need to take the truck?” She slid the T-shirt over her head and picked up her sandals.

Matt retrieved the