Page 6 of Corkscrew You
“You done with that?”
Brendan’s meaty hand gestures to my wine glass.
I pull it to me and glare. “No. There’s a drop left.”
He rolls his eyes, but leaves me be.
Jordan watches him walk back to the bar. “Brendan’s so hot,” she sighs.
“Did you pre-load?” I demand. “Brendan’s like … a big blond gorilla!”
“With a great butt.”
I swivel to check. “OK, yes, pretty tight, but—”
“Tattoos. Muscles. General bad boy vibe.”
“And old enough to be your much older brother.”
Jordan waves her hand. “Details, schmetails.”
It’s too much for me. I tip my glass up to drain the last drop. It refuses to drip. I can’t help thinking this is a bad omen.
“So I’ll see you Monday at one.”
Chiara makes it sound like a threat. She suspects I might go back on my word. And I might because what if shedoesdecide to set her cap at Nathan Durant? How mixed would my mixed feelings be then?
I can hear his voice as clear as if he were here, all low and sexy: “Who outside the Victorian era says ‘set her cap’?” I can see that delicious mouth almost flick into a smile – a sign there might be a real human inside that business-bot shell.
But Jordan’s right. Iamgoing to be working right alongside him for the foreseeable, and if I want to prove I’m capable, I’ll need to focus, focus, focus. And being a natural optimist, I can see an upside to the super fun role of being third wheel if he and Chiara start dating. Which is – that thing she knows how to domightmake him less uptight.
OK. Focus and optimism. Bring it on.
“Sure,” I say. “Monday at one.”
ChapterFour
NATE
I’ve never had a migraine but I think I’m having one now. This place is a shambles.
The surroundings are stunning. You look up from the vines to rolling hills and untouched woodland. There’s a creek that probably won’t give you giardia, and the whole place will turn to gold in the fall. Nope, can’t fault the location.
But the operation’s amess. The equipment would have been scoffed at by Noah while he chipped away at his ark with a stone adze. There are no documented systems for production or logistics, which will mean chaos when we grow – and Idointend to grow this business. There’s ashoeboxin the office with receipts in it. And how many domestic animals can one vineyard support? I’ve counted three dogs, five cats and two pigs, and one really pissy goose that looked ready for a fight. It’s a petting zoo, and to be frank, we might make more money if that’s what we turned it into.
The last straw was the grape bins. OK, JP did tell me they stomp the grapes, but I assumed it had to be an add-on, a gimmick, something visitors could do for a souvenir photo. I thought therealpressing would be mechanical, like any normal winery. By the time I left France, we’d installed state-of-the-art pneumatic presses. Flora Valley has big wooden bins. And, I don’t know, probably a resident Sasquatch to do the stomping.
Seriously, I need to lie down in a darkened room.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Shelby’s completely sincere. Her face is aglow with love for this place, which in all other situations I’d find incredibly appealing. But she iscompletelyout of whack with reality. I can’t even … I don’t know what to say to her. Where to start?
“That goose is a hazard.”
“Dylan?”
“Who calls a gooseDylan?” I ask.
