Rich in Faith (Richness in Faith, Book 3) Read Online Free

Coast.”
    He has no idea how his wine knowledge is being wasted on me. The 2006 Free whatever he just spouted off means nothing to me. Again, something he doesn’t need to know. “Yes. I’d love a glass.” I watch as he goes straight to the wine glasses, makes absolutely no production out of uncorking the wine, then pours a small amount into the glass and hands it to me, as if I am at a restaurant and he is the waiter.
    Hot waiter.
    I start to take a sip, then remember I’m supposed to smell it first. So I back off the sip, make a show of inhaling, then wet my pallet with the wine. Which tastes like red wine.
    I hold out my glass and he pours until my glass is half full.
    “Join me outside?” He sets the bottle on the counter, grabs his beer, then walks to the doors opening to the terrace.
    Following him I find myself holding tightly onto the wine glass. I should probably be holding the glass by the stem. I hope my tenseness doesn’t shatter the glass.
    It’s a good thing I’m only here for three months.
    Maybe. Court doesn’t think I’ll last the week.
    We walk outside. The breeze hits me as I shut the door. Court passes the four barstools that invite you to sit at the counter of the outdoor kitchen with the amazing pizza oven. I wonder how many times that’s been used?
    Maybe the girls like pizza.
    As Court sits at one end of the couch, I sit as far away as possible at the other end, which isn’t as far as I would like it to be. As I sip my wine, I realize I’m probably going to have to drink the whole glass. Dale’s love of good wine led to him finishing up my wine if I didn’t.
    And I usually didn’t.
    I have yet to become a connoisseur of wine, but it was what people in Dale’s world drank.
    And I so wanted to be in Dale’s world.
    Even if it meant faking a love of wine.
    It’s dark as we sit, only the lights shining from inside the house break the night. Court seems content with the atmosphere.
    He looks at me, his expression tired. “Barb Simmons talked you up on the phone. She said you were a financial whiz needing a break. She didn’t tell me you were pretty, though.”
    Pulling my gaze away from my wine glass that is half-way to my lips, I stare at him. “Pretty?”
    Raising his eyebrows, he grins. “I sense a bigger agenda on the part of Barb.”
    Looking into the wine, I wonder if he’s put something in there to make me clueless. Discovering only burgundy-looking water, I return my attention to Court. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”
    Sitting straighter he places his elbows on his knees, the beer bottle dangling from his fingertips. “Barb sends a pretty woman down here with absolutely no experience at being a nanny. Sounds like she’s matchmaking to me.”
    My face flushes at his insinuation. I can’t even respond to his comment.
    “Barb always wants everyone to be happy. That’s her nature.” He takes a long swallow of his beer.
    If I don’t speak he’ll assume he’s right. If I do speak will it come out sounding like I’m defending myself? I need to say something. “Barb’s not matchmaking.”
    That was uneventful and not very convincing, I’m afraid.
    “A bold statement. A bold statement from someone who’s single and never been a nanny.”
    Taking a sip of my wine is better than telling him about Dale and what transpired over the last couple of weeks that led to me sitting in a mansion, far away from my home, hired as a nanny for a guy that my dad would love to meet.
    And he thinks Barb and I orchestrated all this?
    We couldn’t have planned this fiasco.
    Court doesn’t take his gaze from me. Still, Dale’s face looms before me. Our love, my whole former life with Dale, floats between Court and me.
    “I prefer blondes. Barb knows that.” He sets his beer bottle on the tiled terrace next to the couch. It tilts for a moment before settling, but Court doesn’t notice.
    He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his wallet, and hands me a small photo. I