Page 53 of Sweet Escape

He studies me for a long moment, then pats me on the back. “All right, son. Good luck with that.”

We stand in silence for a moment longer before my aunt puts two fingers to her lips and whistles, calling everyone’s attention.

“All right, everyone. On the night before the harvest, we play a little game we call Quest for the Best. Everyone is randomly assigned to a vine, and then you’re given five minutes to search the entirety of your vine for the single grape you think is the best.”

As much as it pains me to admit it, I love this game. It’s one of the few childish, silly things I allow myself to do anymore, and it’s always a good time. It’s also just good team building to have everyone laughing and running through the vines in a way that’s low pressure and a bit of fun.

“I judge the final selections based on weight, color, and taste, and the winner gets a crate of wine from last year’s harvest. Jorge has been the winner for the past two years, so I’m excited to see if someone is able to emerge from our newbies and set a new bar.” She pauses and gives everyone a sheepish look. “I havegrape expectationsof you all this year.”

A bunch of groans emerge from the group, plus a handful of laughs.

“Can I get some more wine with that cheese?” Murphy calls out.

“Oh hush,” my aunt says, waving a hand at my sister. “Now, if everyone can please grab a Popsicle stick from Edgar, it’ll have your vine number, and then we’ll head out so you can get lined up.”

It only takes a few minutes for all of us to select a stick, and then we’re walking out along the path until we get to the end of the vines.

“What’s your number?” Vivian asks, bumping into my shoulder and holding up her stick, which has the number twelve on it.

I grin at her and show her mine. Thirteen.

She grimaces. “Oh, bummer. That’s an unlucky number.”

“I don’t believe in superstitious nonsense like that.”

Vivian smirks, then stops at the end of her vine. I continue, stopping about ten feet away at the end of mine. “Neither do I, but I’m very competitive, so I’ll take whatever advantage I can get, even the paranormal kind.”

Murphy jogs past us both. “Good luck, Vi!” she calls out, not stopping. “Suck it, Memphis!” she adds with a laugh, continuing on to her vine at the far end of the path.

I shake my head, my smile coming easy and my chest light.

Lighter than I was expecting, considering the heaviness of my earlier reaction to my father’s announcement. But I can be very good at compartmentalizing, and right now, I don’t want to waste my mental energy on my father when I could be focused on having this little bit of fun instead.

Especially with Vivian a few feet away.

“Meet me in the tasting room tonight,” I say, the words escaping my mouth before the idea has fully formed in my mind.

Her eyes narrow, and for a second, I worry that she’s upset with me. That I’ve been too forward. That I’ve somehow asked wrong, or waited too long before suggesting we get together again.

But then she speaks.

“Don’t try to throw me off my game, here, Memphis,” she says, pretending to roll up nonexistent sleeves, then crouching low. “My mental focus is going to stay entirely on finding the grapiest grape. Keep your ideas about sexy shenanigans to yourself.”

“You’re a nut,” I tell her, smiling wide.

She dips her chin and gives me a look filled with mischief. “Always.”

“I’m going to count down from ten, and then you’ll have five minutes,” my aunt says into a bullhorn. “There will be a one-minute warning, and a countdown for the final ten seconds, at which time everyone must have returned to the end of your vine. Are we ready?”

There are a bunch of cheers, and then she begins counting down.

I take a few steps so I’m standing behind Vivian, my chest to her back. “Make sure, while you’re looking for that grape, that you’reimagining the orgasm I’m going to give you later,” I say, my voice low, just for her. “I’ll certainly be imagining the one you’re going to give me.”

She growls at me—actually growls. But then the alarm sounds from the bullhorn, and she’s off, racing down her lane, leaving me in the dust.

I laugh, then take off running down my own row, my eyes scanning the bunches hanging on the vines to my left.

The air around me is filled with laughter and people calling out to each other. I know a handful of people will mostly snoop a little bit and pluck a random grape, while others will take it really seriously. The game itself is a little absurd. The idea that anyone can really find the best grape from thousands in five minutes an impossibility.

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