Page 30 of Twin Babies For The Grump

It’s a bit of a frenzy at first, with everyone pitching in to help get it set up. Owen catches sight of it and waves me down. “What’s going on?”

“Delia Winery tradition,” I say. “We have a new batch that just finished aging, and the staff needs to taste it.”

“Seems like a waste of product,” says Owen, unhappily.

“Wrong.” I wag a finger at him. “It lets the people on staff know exactly what they need to fix, alter, or change in the next batch. And it’s a good morale boost.”

Owen glances over the members of staff that have opted to stick around for the Wine Night. There are little plastic sample cups set out on the table. Many of the employees have spread what was left of their lunches out for a free for all; it consists of bags of chips and pretzels, containers of cookies, and other snack food that didn’t get devoured earlier.

The beautiful, lush green grounds, along with fancy patio fire pits and the gorgeous winery building, are a sight to behold. And our little family of sorts is right there in the middle.

Moments like this are what I work so hard for.

Late evening sunlight filters over us and a warm breeze ghosts over my face. “You know, it would do you good to stick around.”

“I do live here,” Owen reminds me, putting a hand on my shoulder. The touch is electric.

I lean into it, then catch myself and pull back. “Right,” I say, laughing nervously. It’s seriously more difficult than I thought to ignore the obvious connection that we’ve got. “I’m going to finish getting the bottles.”

It’s a piss poor excuse, considering four is normally the limit, but I make my escape to the wine racks anyway. Owen doesn’t know that a fifth bottle is out of the norm. I grab one and head back out, over to the table.

While I’m getting the bottle set up in the ice bin that someone procured, I realize that Macy is nearby, talking to Owen. I know that eavesdropping isn’t great, but it isn’t like they’re somewhere private.

And I’m hoping that she’s telling Owen about the interview, too. It’s completely work-related and doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that just the sight of them together is nearly enough to make my eyes go green with jealousy.

“You know, you’re a lot funnier off the clock than I thought you would be,” says Macy, leaning into Owen’s personal space. She tilts her plastic cup toward him like it’s a fancy wine flute. “I didn’t expect that.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” says Owen, dryly. He glances around like he’s looking for something.

Macy acts as though she didn’t hear him. “I know it’s been a while since you were in Napa Valley.”

“I’ve been back for over a month.”

“And you’ve spent pretty much all that time totally here,” says Macy, unrelenting. She’s giving him bedroom eyes and is touching his arm with the tips of her fingers as she talks. Watching it makes the jealousy curl into something hotter.

Totally not cool of me.

Owen and I aren’t dating. In fact, we explicitly talked yesterday morning about not dating as a long-term thing. But I still want to go over there and—

Oh, it looks like I don’t have to do anything.

Owen nods at Macy once and then jerks his chin in the direction of Tipsy, who has finally managed to drag himself out of the workroom where he’s been napping all day. “If you’ll excuse me, I have something important to do.”

And then he leaves Macy—who is truly floundering, slack-jawed and everything—for the dog!

I can’t hear what Owen is saying when he drops down onto one knee in front of Tipsy, but I can sure see the look of absolute fury on Macy’s face.

Snubbed for a pooch!

The laugh slips out of me against my will. I slap a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. Macy’s head has already swiveled around, and she’s shooting me the stink eye.

“Wine,” I say, holding up the cup, and giggling again. “Sorry.”

It seems as though I’m looking to be elected President of Poor Excuses today.

Luckily, I don’t actually need a great one this time around. Macy huffs and storms away from me and the wine table, heading to where Marco and Harley are sitting at one of the white stone picnic tables.

Across the way, Owen stands up, abandoning the Wine Night in favor of going up toward the house. He pats the side of his thigh as he goes, and Tipsy trots happily after him.

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