Page 7 of Love You Always

“Beatrix is your sister.”

I exhale a twinge of annoyance at myself for giving up that information a moment ago. “Yeah.”

“Interesting.”

I cross my arms and take a step back so I’m outside of touching distance. “Really? I see nothing interesting about the fact that she and I are siblings. Nothing.” Her eyes widen at theunwarranted irritation in my voice, but it’s my only possible defense against this woman who I should have sent on her way ten minutes ago. I need to be every bit the asshole I have a reputation for being, if only so my brain gets the message—no good can come to this moth from standing close to her.

“Regardless, you’re the brother I’ve been dying to meet.”

My pulse quickens at that idea, and I forget to take the next breath. I recover and roll my eyes at her overstatement. “No one is everdyingto meet me, and once they do, they generally wish they hadn’t.”

“Why? Your personality?” She smiles, and my traitorous heart starts beating faster. My throat feels thick when I try to swallow.

“I have two other brothers,” I desperately choke out, reminding myself that I do not like this woman or anything about her celebrity.

“Is one of them a winemaker?”

“No.”

“So, she meant you.” She taps a finger against my chest, and I bristle at the ripple of heat that shoots out in all directions from the barest hint of her touch. Then I take a step back and her hand falls. She watches it sink through the air before her eyes return to mine, accusingly. She shrugs, as though my disinterest is irrelevant. “I was hoping…” She twists her fingers and half-smiles like I’ve made her nervous. “Look, I know I need to pick wines for the reception and all that, but between you and me, I’m a science nerd and I was really hoping to learn about viniculture.”

“I—” I shake my head, having no idea what she’s talking about. “You want…what?”

“When I come here, I’m so gaga over the vineyards that I can’t focus…my brain is dying to know how you turn those beautiful grapes into wine that people talk about a thousand miles from here.” Her eyes dance and sparkle, and I want to write her off as an entitled celebrity who wants something we don’t provide. And yet…in the time since I took over the wine operations, not a single wedding client has taken an interest in viniculture. Something I love.

A new flutter blooms in my chest. It both pisses me off and rattles my nerves because my heart doesn’t flutter at women anymore. Quite the opposite. I need to focus all my attention on keeping the family business going for the sake of my siblings. I need to be the man my father asked me to be, end of story. I can’t indulge the whims of a woman who will distract me from everything that’s important.

I’m the one who goes gaga over the vineyards. Not her.

“That’s not how it works. My job is to run the place, produce the wine we ship all over the country. I’m not a teacher or a performer.”

She nodding. “I get that. I don’t mean to be a bother. But maybe…I could quietly shadow you sometime? You wouldn’t even notice me.”

I look at her with her sun-kissed cheeks and rosebud mouth and try to imagine how she could go anywhere without notice. A part of me wants to do whatever she’s asking, purely as an excuse to keep looking at her. But my boundaries are there for a reason. I need to stay within them.

“I don’t fuck around when it comes to our wine. These are hundred-year-old vines. We grow cabernet in a sought-after appellation that’s known around the world. Wine making is a science. It’s not an excuse to get drunk and post selfies. I’m not doing some dog-and-pony show for your social media feed.”

The barn echoes as my harsh words bounce around in the otherwise silent space. The high ceilings eventually absorb the bark I expected to scare her away, but she doesn’t move.

Jutting her hip out to the side, she taps a finger against her lips like she’s considering how to answer. Her other hand flexes and balls into a fist as though she might slug me instead. I’m oddly intrigued by the power she seems to wield in her pint-sized frame against a guy who’s six-three.

“Okay, then.” She wrings her hands and then wipes them on her skirt like they might be sweating. Like I make her a little nervous, which seems impossible. Ella Fieldstone emotes on camera in front of a huge crew for a living. Nothing about this situation compares to that. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

She turns to go, the whisp of a skirt flapping behind her as she spins on her heel. Her unruly hair trails down her back and catches whatever light spills into the room through the windows. I feel a sense of relief to be rid of her combined with a near-desperate urge to pull her back that I can’t understand.

“Ella!”

We both turn to find Beatrix striding in from the tasting room in her customary dark suit and high heels, which make a staccato sound on the wood floor that feels like nails poking my skin. From the glare she shoots in my direction, I can tell she heard at least part of the conversation, and she’s not happy with me.

Ella’s skirt swishes as she walks over to my sister and they hug. “I’m sorry I showed up a day early.”

“Aw, no worries. Happy to see you.”

“That makes one of you,” Ella says, shooting me a look.

“Oh, don’t mind Archer. He’s our resident grump, but he’s the key to everything we do here, so we cut him some slack.” She’s speaking in an upbeat, cheery way that makes her sound like Mary Poppins dosing kids with sugar. Ella laughs, and I roll my eyes, eager to be done with both of them, now that they have each other.

“I’ve been trying to convince Archer here to teach me about wine making.”

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