Page 11 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“Morning,” I said as I made my way across the Italian slate, my heels clicking as I went.

“Morning, Char.”

I placed my travel mug on the bar top. “I talked to Mom and Dad this morning. They’re good, taking their pills and vitamins.”

“Considering we saw them two days ago, I didn’t expect anything different,” Nero said. “And did you really call them to see if they were taking their meds?”

“I want them to live as long as possible, and somehow that makes me neurotic.”

“Youareneurotic.”

“Whatever. Do you know if they have an updated will?”

“Why the fuck would I know that?”

“It’s important.”

“And none of my damn business. You want to get involved in that morbid bullshit, you can ask them yourself.”

It was the answer I expected, but not why I stopped to chat. “Do you have a sketch for me?” I’d recently discovered Nero’s hidden talent of metal work. Though it was more than a hidden talent. He was seriously gifted. It only made sense to hire him to make an installation to put on the lawn in front of the winery.

“I’m toying with a few ideas.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped having sex with Lainey, you’d be able to focus.”

Seriously, three of my brothers each found the so-called “love of their lives” in the last year, and ever since, they’d all been preoccupied.

“Maybe, but that’s never going to happen.” I swore everyone around me was having sex, and I wondered why I was so addicted to vampire erotica. At least I could imagine myself as the main character being ravaged by some hot, sexy vampire who wanted me more than blood and could bring me to pleasure over and over again.

I forced the thoughts from my mind. For crying out loud, I was at work, talking to my brother. Maybe I needed to start dating again. Get out of the house. Actually have sex so I didn’t have to fantasize about it anymore.

The idea alone exhausted me. Our town was too small, and the dating pool wasn’t even shallow. It was a dried-up abandoned pool where frogs went to die. I’d dated enough frogs in my life; I didn’t need to pick through the ones left baking in the sun.

I would continue to throw myself into my work and hope one day, Mr. Right would show up on my doorstep, then give me space to accomplish my to-do list for the day.

“Look who isn’t in her castle in the sky.” Brady’s voice boomed across the tasting room. My lip curled as soon as my ears recognized him.

“You mean my office, where people of importance go?” I snapped, but before turning to face Brady, I shot Nero a glance. “No offense.”

Nero held up his hands. “None taken. I know my worth now.”

A smile cracked at the edge of my mouth. It was nice to hear. I hadn’t realized how Nero actually felt about his role in the family business. Apparently, he thought he was a glorified bartender, when in reality, he was the charming face of the brand.

My smile faltered as soon as my eyes found Brady. He moved toward the tasting bar like a gladiator staking his ground. The green henley that stretched over his biceps made his green eyes pop and his tanned skin was the perfect backdrop. His too long hair was neatly combed and tied at the back.

He was the embodiment of every villain in the books I read. Handsome to a fault, but his looks could never overshadow his malevolent ways.

“Why are you here, anyway? Don’t you have your own business?” I understood my brothers and hell, even my parents and sisters thought of him as family, but did he always have to be around? I’m sure there was another family he could latch onto.

“You mean the very successful distillery?”

“Whatever.” I swatted my hand in the air, then crossed my arms over my chest.

“I had to pick something up from Laurent’s office first.”

“And what was the something?”

His thick, dark eyebrows drew together over a nose that had been broken more than once. “None of your business.”

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