Page 20 of Karma's Kiss

CHAPTER 5

Sawyer’s familyhas owned and operated Starlight Vineyards since his great grandfather realized there was more money to be had selling wine than selling Texas peaches. As far as I know, their family owns more property surrounding Oak Hill than any other private landholder outside of the LBJ family, but who knows, that could just be talk around the town.

As Sawyer’s truck dips beneath the wrought iron entry gate, I realize I’ve never been on the property. David practically lived here as a teenager. He and Hunter used to work alongside Sawyer in the summers, and by late August the three of them would be so muscled and tanned the ladies in town would fan themselves when they walked past.

It’s fitting that Sawyer would bring me here of all places for our first date. I’m disappointed I didn’t put the pieces together earlier. What better place to woo unsuspecting females than to show them the wine empire your family owns? I bet hearts go aflutter when Sawyer lays out the acreage. It must be his go-to.

“Yeah, someday all of this will be mine. Should we make out now?”

Yuck.

I mean,c’mon.How pompous! How conniving! It’s so smarmy and lazy to use this vineyard to do the heavy lifting for him.

It’s breathtaking, I’ll give him that. A long country road lined with grapevines on both sides takes us deep into a valley bordered by low-lying hills. Though it’s the last thing I want to do, I compliment the vineyard, acting like I’m really blown away (I hate that I actually am).

“It’s really special” is his canned response. Then he looks out onto the landscape as if taking it in with fresh eyes, and I all but puke. How stupid does he think I am? How many pairs of work boots has he purchased in bulk from Costco? He probably buys them by the pallet. They give him a steep discount because they know he’s good for a few dozen pairs.

The road eventually dead-ends in the center of the property into a large concrete pad with industrial buildings arranged around it in a semicircle. They’re huge and look new, all except for a small wooden structure on the far left, all on its own.

Sawyer sees me eyeing it. “That’s the vineyard’s original barrel room, but we don’t use it anymore. It’s too hard to control the temperatures in the summer. Not to mention, we’ve expanded some since my grandfather originally built that.”

Expandedsome. Hilarious.

“Where’s the new barrel room?”

Sawyer points to one of the large buildings in front of us. “The barrels are all housed in there now.”

I’m drawn back to the old wooden building. “Is it empty?”

“No, we use it as a venue. Ready to go on our tour?”

Ten minutes later, I’ve got my new work boots on, and Sawyer and I are strolling between the rows of grapes as he explains to me the best time to harvest them (on a warm, sunny day after the morning dew has dried), how to tell if they’re ripe(full color, plump berries, and a slight loosening in the cluster), and what they’re looking for the most (sugar content).

“We measure sugar content after fermentation. Higher sugar levels determine higher alcohol levels in the wine. Am I boring you?”

“No,” I respond quickly and genuinely. “It’s interesting. You have to remember who raised me. Wine has a very special place in Queenie’s heart.”

He grins as he toys with one of the grape leaves over his head.

“Can we try one?” I ask. I’ve been tempted to pull a grape off the vine since we started our walk.

He inspects the green cluster near his brow and plucks off the perfect one to hand to me.

“Oh.”

Fresh off the vine, the grape is sweet and tart.

Sawyer’s studying me, watching for my reaction.

“It’s really good. What wine will these make?”

“Chenin Blanc, one of our most popular sellers.”

“I could eat that whole cluster.”

He smiles proudly. “You can have a few more if you want, but I have dinner set up a few yards that way.”

Of course he’s set up a picnic in the vineyard! I’d forgotten for a moment what this is all about:his careful seduction plan. He’s walked me through the romantic grapevines and now the sun is setting just as we reach a picnic table lit by candlelight. Someone has made the effort to chill wine and leave out a cooler. From inside it, Sawyer retrieves a charcuterie board and salads, delicate finger sandwiches and cheesecakes baked right inside mason jars. Our two chairs aren’t positioned on opposite sides of the table but rather side by side so neither of us has to have our back to the sunset.

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