Page 32 of Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots

"You'll want to get to the ballpark by six at the latest," Isabella answers, either oblivious to or unconcerned with Sophie's growing discomfort. "The game starts at seven, but they always have fun activities beforehand and there will be several outstanding food trucks lined up."

I blink as Isabella gasps, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh, my gosh! I just realized something. We have the annual town festival coming up, and you could help with that." She drops a hand on my arm, her gaze intent and voice pleading. "You will be around, right? It would be so great if you man our booth with Sophie. She's introducing our new wine to the public, and I know she'll be super nervous. Brennen was supposed to help her, but he's been spread a little too thin lately." Isabella leans toward me further and lifts a hand to her mouth, stage-whispering behind it. "And Sophie really hates to be around people."

Sophie stomps her foot and finds her voice, her fists clenched and the fire back in her eyes. "Dammit, Isabella, I'm standing right here."

"I'd love to help at the festival. Sounds like a good time," I interject before Sophie can conjure up a reason to keep me away. I also file away the nugget Isabella dropped about Brennen, making a mental note to take the winery’s assistant to coffee for a chat one morning. Something tells me she'll be a treasure trove of information if I ask the right questions. It doesn’t seem like she has much of a filter, at least from the conversations we’ve had so far, and unhampered information can reveal a lot.

I meet Sophie's frustrated gaze and slip on my most earnest and innocent expression—how I imagine a good Catholic choir boy would look while being interrogated by an angry priest who just sat on a whoopee cushion during mass.

"As for tonight, I'll have to check with my boss." I flip her a teasing grin that I hope disarms some of her tension. "But I can leave whenever you'd like." I pat my stomach and glance around the warehouse, the devil on my shoulder deciding that peaceful relations are overrated. "I hope they have good ballpark food. I figure I'll be pretty hungry after getting this place squared away."

As expected, Sophie jerks ramrod straight, her eyes going from spitting fire to blazing inferno in an instant. "I beg your pardon. What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Uh…" Isabella, clearly deciding that anywhere else is a better place to be, backs slowly to the exit. "I'll let you two get to work in here. Bye!" She practically runs out the door, leaving us alone.

"I'll have you know I run a very tight ship here. I've been working in wineries since I could walk, and it's not like I've had much help since I got here. Not that I’ve wanted any," she clarifies.

I hold up my hands placatingly. "I'm not insulting your work, Sophie. Even if I hadn’t known who you were beforehand, I could tell that you know what you're doing the moment I walkedin here. But I'm the help you've been looking for. Let me prove it to you. Use me."

Yeah, use me any way you want, honey.

Damn my wandering mind. Something about this spitfire pushes all the right buttons. I can’t help wondering what it would be like if I could help her redirect all that raw emotion… to have those strong, lean legs wrapped around my waist.

Staring into her dazed hazel gaze, I’m fairly certain I’m not the only one whose mind dove head-first into the gutter. Sophie’s pupils are dilated and her sweet, plump lips, that I want to kiss so badly, have parted. She’s definitely not immune.

Shit! This assignment just got way more difficult than I anticipated.

“Okay.” I clap my hands and rub them together, making Sophie jump. “Where should I get started?”

"Wow." My eyes scan the verdant green baseball field spread before me, broken only by the reddish brown of the infield and the brilliant white of the bases and chalk marking the first and third baselines. To say the field was pristinely manicured would be an understatement. The grass is cut in the traditional crisscross pattern both infield and outfield, and not a blade of grass looks to be out of place. Beautiful.

The playing surface is surrounded by rows and rows of colorful spectator seating, which in turn is surrounded by palm trees outside the walls. The ballpark appears relatively new, and the smell of freshly cooked hot dogs wafting along the gentle early-evening breeze makes my stomach growl.

"This place is impressive."

I was right about working up an appetite and had gone out of my way to make myself useful to Sophie today. In just four hours, I managed to change out all the safety valves she'd been working on and cleaned out the old fermentation tanks. They are now ready and waiting for her next batch of wine.

When I told her I'd completed all the projects she'd given me, her face had tightened with frustration. But that passed quickly when she'd reviewed the fruits of my labor. She could grumble all she wanted about having people in her space, but the relief that flashed over her face was enlightening.

She'd gone so far as to grace me with the glimmer of a smile that had transformed her face from beautiful to breathtaking, highlighting the laugh lines at the corners of her mouth and the crinkle beside her hypnotic eyes. Sophie Garrett is a smoke show and my kind of woman. She isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and is passionate about everything in her life as far as I can see.

She relaxed after that, especially when I told her she should focus on the wine and let me handle everything else. Her shoulders visibly dropped as the tension drained away.

I wonder what it would be like if I started kissing her there and worked my way up her neck to her earlobe?

A warm contentment bubbles in my chest and spreads to my fingertips at the thought that I can give her peace of mind and make her life just a bit easier.

"It's about a year old and has been a big community draw. I've only been here a handful of times," Sophie comments. "But it's always a fun time."

She points to our left. "The food vendors are that way."

We load up on hot dogs, popcorn, and beer, and head to our seats right behind first base.

"Ahhhhhh…" I sigh as I take my first sip of beer and lean back. "Isabella was right. This is a perfect view of the field."

I take several deep gulps of my beer. "Damn! This is good." I hold it up to hers for a toast. "Here's to a fantastic night with beautiful company and outstanding beer!"

Sophie's cheeks pinken prettily, and her lips curve into a full smile at the compliment as she raises her plastic cup to mine. I pat myself on the back that I finally got the smile I’ve worked so hard for all day.

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