Page 12 of Bitter Rival

“At least we won’t have to buy a gym membership,” I tell Hunter as we pull leaves from the vines to allow the sun to hit the fruit.

The grapes are still green, only the size of a pea, and I’m looking forward to seeing them changing color and ripening in the summer sun.

“Definitely one of the perks of the job,” he agrees, tucking a wayward vine under the wire trellising that we had to raise earlier to accommodate the new growth.

We’ve been working side by side all morning, and I already know Hunter’s whole life story. He graduated from college a few years ago after changing his major three times and still isn’t sure what he wants to do with his life, so he’s been trying out different jobs to see what sticks.

Hunter is tall and lanky, built more like a runner than a football player, and cute in that non-threatening kind of way. Sandy blond hair. A nice smile. The kind of guy you can picture playing beach volleyball with his friends or running along the water’s edge with a golden retriever by his side.

He’s open and friendly like he has nothing to hide, and while I can’t entirely relate, it’s refreshing to be around someone who has no hidden agenda.

When we finish the row, he gives me a high five like we’ve accomplished something monumental.

“Food’s great too,” he says as we skirt the rose bush and start on the next row.

I snap off the laterals, leaving the main shoots alone like Pete taught me and toss the leaves into the middle of the row to be collected for compost. “Food is included?”

“Yeah,” he says, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. “They didn’t tell you? We all eat lunch together.”

Oh. I guess he assumed I’m doing a harvest internship like him. All I said was that it was my first day, I live in Brooklyn, and I like taking photos.

Coaxing people into talking about themselves is a good way to avoid talking about oneself, so I use that tactic often. It’s one of my best tricks for capturing good photos too. Getting to know the person before you even lift the camera helps to create the narrative.

“I’m not sure how much Pete told you, but the owner passed away recently, and his son is in charge now,” Hunter says conversationally. “He was supposed to be arriving this week, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

The Dark Lord of the Manor is probably busy plotting world domination.

Or more likely, googling how to murder someone and get away with it.

I can imagine him rubbing his hands together and chortling with glee after he digs a deep hole to bury me in. It would be a nice gesture if he planted a rose bush over my grave, but I doubt he’d make the effort.

“Actually, I don’t think everything went to his son,” Hunter continues. “From what I’ve gathered, he left half to his stepdaughter.”

Aha, there it is. Now we’re getting to the good stuff.

I’m waiting for him to say more, to vilify the stepdaughter and call her a gold digger, but Hunter isn’t that kind of guy, so I give him a little nudge in the right direction. “Don’t you think that sounds a bit wrong?” I give him the side-eye. “I mean…it should all go to his son, don’t you think?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess it depends. Maybe he loved them equally. Just because someone isn’t related by blood doesn’t mean they’re not family.”

God. This guy. He’s just too good to be true. “You’re a good guy, Hunter.”

He gives me a funny look. “Why do you say that? Anyone would feel the same.”

No. No, they would not. Not in my world, anyway.

“I’m not so sure the stepdaughter deserved to get half of the inheritance.” I don’t know what compels me to continue playing devil’s advocate, but I’m on a roll now and can’t seem to stop myself. “It seems like a dirty trick to play on your only son.”

Hunter is quiet for a moment, contemplating. “Like I said, I can’t really judge because I don’t actually know the family. But for all we know, he had a good reason for it. A lot of time and care went into making this vineyard successful.”

My gaze sweeps over the rolling hills of lush green vines standing in hedged rows for as far as the eye can see. Almost two hundred acres are planted with grapevines and the other fifty are dedicated to fruit orchards, vegetable gardens, and woodland with a creek running through it.

The view is magical. Like something straight out of a movie.

“He wouldn’t have put so much love into it only to give it away to someone undeserving.” Hunter shrugs like he didn’t just say the sweetest, most beautiful thing ever. “That’s just my opinion.”

It's good to be reminded that people like Hunter exist and that not everyone assumes the worst of people.

Beckett could learn a thing or two from Hunter.

---