Page 2 of Beneath the Sapphire Sky

“I had a couple of drinks after we watched the movie. Just being responsible.”

Jack made a strange noise. “Yeah, because you’d surely get hit by a car walking across our extremely busy road at two in the morning.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

Callum Davis shook his head and turned his back on his son. “I’ll need you on the floor by ten. We have a bus due at eleven.”

Happiness bubbled up. “Tasting?”

He shook his head. “No. I need you cooking.”

Her happiness burst into oblivion. What use was her training as a sommelier if she was stuck in the kitchen? She’d grown up on the vineyard; she knew it all inside out. “But—”

“No buts, Belle. Janie called in sick. That’s where I need you. I’ll supervise the tasting. Dean’s coming in at midday to set up the music.”

Dammit!

While her dad could make a drinkable coffee when pressed, he couldn’t cook to save his life. Unless they wanted food coming back in droves, it was her or no food at all. They’d managed to build up a wonderful reputation both locally and interstate for their weekly Muscat and Music afternoons, although the muscat reserves had been severely reduced due to the lack of a suitable harvest in recent years. A resurgence of love for the older varieties of grape had ensured their success. It was something of a novelty for the busloads of tourists that flocked to the region each week.

“What about Mum?” she asked.

“We’ll take her over to the Barrel. You know how she loves Dean’s voice. Between us and Suze we should be able to keep her occupied until you can take her home again.”

“We really do need help, Dad.”

Her father waved a dismissive hand at her. “We can cope. We do fine looking after her.”

“Not we—me.”

Her father frowned, a shutter coming down over his face. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Which meant never.

Belle sighed and nodded. She caught Jack’s head shake as she turned to leave the shed.

She was almost thirty-two and, while she was happy working for the family business and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, at times it seemed her life might never actually start.

Chapter Two

Dante straightened hisback and breathed deep. He rolled his shoulders and laced his fingers together behind his head to stretch out the kinks. If he’d learned one thing from his father, it was that he hated weakness of any sort.

Better to pretend he was made of the same shiny, stainless steel as the massive wine vats stretched out in a line before him. Old wooden bulk bins that had to be older than he was, stacked four-high, leaned against the walls near the open doorway. None of those newfangled plastic bins for his father. Everything had to be done the traditional way.

The old way.

At least he’d managed to talk him into changing the old oak barrels over to the newer stainless ones for the majority of their vintages. The older seasoned oak they kept for their specialised fortified liqueurs. His father was such a contradiction in some ways. Old ways, but he’d wanted to embrace newer techniques.

He glanced at the magazine Belle had dropped off in a whirlwind visit at morning tea. A sticky note sat high out of the top of it marking the page containing the interview with the national wine committee. He flicked to the page and grinned at the neat handwritten note.

Don’t forget our picnic! I’m bringing cheese!

He couldn’t wait. Sure, she’d stayed last night on his sofa, but more and more he ached to see her every day, and not just for five minutes here and there.

As well as their regular movie night, he and Belle tried to have at least one other time during their insanely busy week to get together and chill. Through the warmer months, that often meant picnics. They messaged constantly, but seeing her smiling face and hearing her voice was something that always made his day that much brighter.

He laughed at himself. His anticipation might also have something to do with the fact that if they actually got their picnic, odds were she’d be in a bikini and want to go swimming.

That was something he could definitely look forward to.

“I’m sorry, mate, but you can’t be back here.”

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