Page 32 of Twin Babies For The Grump

“You didn’t tell me that inventory was coming up.” It comes out more sharply than I mean.

But Tess doesn’t look upset at the scolding. “I’m used to Thomas knowing about it. I’m sorry, Owen. I’m not trying to step on any toes. I don’t think that any of the employees are. Thomas just… He was the boss here for years. And it’s not a dig on you being the boss now! It’s just that some of this stuff … we don’t think about you not knowing.”

“It’s infuriating,” I admit. “My father built this place.” I step around her, to drag the tips of my fingers along the bottles of an older section of wine. “And he turned it into something amazing. I won’t let that legacy fall apart but…”

“But you know how to run a business?”

“Exactly!”

Tess chews on her lower lip for a moment. Then she turns to face me, and she says, “Owen, look. I know you can run—”

She cuts herself off, eyes going wide.

“Are you okay?” I ask, reaching out to press a hand to her shoulder. I’ve barely touched her when Tess drops the clipboard to the ground with a clatter and takes off down the aisles of the winery storage unit. Blanc sees the fallen object and snatches it up, taking off into the rows of shelves with it just like she had my shoe.

I’m more concerned about following Tess though. She slams open the front door and I can hear her vomit into the pansy bushes nearby.

Wincing, I go out after her. Tess is struggling to keep her hair out of her face. I step over to her, gathering up the curled strands and pulling them out of the mess. She gags again, both palms braced to her knees. The smell is awful. Nose wrinkling, I turn away and spot Tipsy, standing just a few feet off, eyeing up the mess.

“Sorry,” says Tess, croaking with a rough voice. She uses the back of one hand to wipe at her mouth and straightens up.

Tipsy inches forward. I shake a finger at him and scold, “Don’t you even think it!”

Tipsy sits down, whining.

I turn to Tess. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I feel fine. It must just be—” Tess shakes her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I ate something.”

“It could be a stomach bug,” I say, frowning. “We don’t want that going through the ranks of the employees right before the contest, and you don’t need to be out here pushing yourself and making it worse. You should go home.”

“I’m fine,” insists Tess. “I don’t need to go home.”

“It’s not optional,” I tell her. “I phrased it as a suggestion to be nice.” I catch her face with one palm, sweeping my thumb over the soft skin beneath her eye. “I’ll get Edward to drive you.”

“I can drive myself,” Tess insists, but I’m unrelenting on it. I get both dogs first, so that they can’t get into anything else—something neither of them is happy for—and put them into the house. I make sure to lock the side door so that they can’t let themselves back out, and then call Edward.

A few minutes later, the car slides into place at the base of the steps and Edward opens his door to get out, but I wave him off.

“Not me,” I say, and then nod up toward the stone bench near the winery that Tess is sitting on. “I need you to drive her home for me.”

Edward’s gaze follows mine, and a look of pure amusement settles on his expression when he sees her. “That would be the young miss from the bar, correct?”

I’ve hardly needed Edward’s assistance since I moved here so the topic of Tess never came up. I briefly explain the situation, but he seems unfazed by this strange coincidence.

“I believe that I still have her shawl in the trunk,” he says and gets out, moving around to pop the trunk and fish it out. She left it in the car during our one-night stand. “I completely forgot about that.”

“I know that you did,” says Edward. “Thankfully, my memory still works just fine, even if my knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“That’s what you’re here for, Edward. Keeping things on track.”

“If that’s what I’m here for, then it’s my duty to point out that you are clearly smitten with the woman,” says Edward. “And it might be time that you ask her out on an honest-to-God date—off this property. Grapes are not enough to woo a woman, Owen.”

I let out a bark of laughter. “I don’t know. I think that the wine has been working just fine so far.”

“It has gotten her in your bed,” says Edward. The trunk clicks shut, and he walks back up to the driver’s seat. “But that is far from wooed.”

“Maybe I’m not trying to woo her,” I say, though it’s a losing battle to try and deny it. With Edward, at least. The man knows me too well.

---