Page 17 of Bordeaux Bombshell
Emma snorts. “I was originally going to do my report on Mailbox, Inc. Because duh. But we had to turn in a draft of the project last week, and my professor said, and I quote, ‘Shame Daddy couldn’t help you do a better job digging up dirt on his company.’ Which, you know, pissed me the fuck off, so I decided to do my report on Sunshine Cellars instead.”
Huh. That was not what I was expecting. “And where do I come in?”
“Well, for starters, can I interview you to get the information I need for the report? We’re supposed to write about both factors that are in the owners’ control and things that aren’t. And I don’t know what could be more out of your control than the fucking weather.”
I take another bite of my burrito and chew while I think it over. When I can’t find a reason to say no, I shrug. “Sure. What’s the other thing?”
“I want a job this summer.”
“Why do you want a job way out here? The commute would be a bitch.”
Emma doesn’t answer for a long moment, giving me a chance to polish off my breakfast. This conversation has been a welcome distraction from worrying about the damage done last night, but I need to get back to work. Not stand here debating with the nepo baby I’m apparently going to have around this summer.
As if I really have a choice in the matter.
“I wouldn’t have to commute—I could stay in the big house.”
The big house. My childhood home, now the Suttons’ vacation home. In fact, from what I’ve seen peeking through the windows, the room Emma claimed as her own is my old room. The three cabins downhill, where my folks and I live, were built while I was in France—a nod to the clause my dad insisted be in the buyer’s contract. That my folks could stay on and run the winery for as long as they wanted.
My home won’t be stolen completely until the day my dad decides to retire. And I can feel it creeping closer and closer.
Is Emma gunning for my job? Is that why she wants to work here so desperately? It’s bad enough that my legacy was taken from me. Now there’s a chance that it won’t even go to someone who knows what they’re doing, but to this pipsqueak of a girl who has only been able to drink legally for less than a year.
Our conversation is interrupted by the sound of tires on gravel. “I’ll think about it,” I throw over my shoulder at Emma as I move up the hill to see who’s arrived.
My guess that it’s Kel is only half right.
My best friend comes around the side of the tasting room to join us, Sydney close on his heels.
Yes, I was an angry asshole when I first came home, but surely I’ve atoned by now? Why does the universe hate me? What did I do to deserve this torture?
Unexpected late frost.
Nepo baby trying to steal my winery out from under me.
The woman who keeps me at arm’s length, torturing me by letting me get close enough to taste her, but never close enough for more.
And now I have to deal with all three at once?
The sound of chewing follows me, and I glance over to see Emma has followed me. As soon as Sydney spots Emma, she waves and beelines for her. I can’t tell if she just hasn’t seen me, although I’m damn near impossible to miss, or if she’s ignoring me on purpose.
“Hi, Emma. I wasn’t expecting to see you!” Sydney bounces over, a paper coffee cup clutched in her hand. They hug before Emma immediately starts chatting to her, turning slightly away from me.
Ignoring me, it is.
As I back away from the pair, amusement flashes in the quirk of Sydney’s mouth.That fucking mouth.
It’s the same thought I’ve had ever since I was eighteen and the gangly little girl who I’d never really paid attention to caught me by surprise with a smart-ass comment and a saucy grin. If there weren’t so many people here, I’d give that mouth something to do besides smirk.
Turning, I stride away to see Kel before my dick gets any bright ideas.
The way I want to fuck that fucking mouth.
Sydney
one year ago
Theflashoffireworksfrom across the river was too far away to be satisfactorily fiery for my mood. At least I was celebrating my birthday out at a bar and getting drunk with my friends, instead of out at Sunshine like had been the tradition since I was a kid.
