Page 48 of Bordeaux Bombshell
I stumble over my words, and her eyes narrow, making me feel like an awkward teenager all over again.
“We’re meeting at two o’clock.” I hadn’t thought much about this meeting until she reacted that way. Am I missing something?
She sniffs, glancing at my boots again. “What was your name?”
Jesus Christ, judgment is rolling off her in waves, triggering a nervous tic in my gut. “Nate.” She gives me another look. “Nate Ridgefield.”
“Let me just check…” She holds up a finger and scrolls through something on her screen. “Hmm, I don’t see anything on Mr. Sutton’s calendar. It is Thursday, after all…”
She looks up at me like I should know what’s significant about Thursday afternoons around here. “He told me to be here.” I glare at her, but she isn’t fazed by it, which would be impressive any other time, but right now, it’s annoying.
“Sir, if you’ll just give me a moment to contact his assistant, I’ll see if there’s—”
An elevator opens behind her, revealing a tiny woman with bright orange hair. She half jogs toward us, calling out, “I got it, Tina. He can come with me. I’m going that way.” She wraps a hand around my elbow and drags me toward the elevator bank she just came from.
“But—” the blue-haired Tina protests, but the tiny woman, who I now recognize as one of Sophie Sutton’s girlfriends, keeps moving with surprising strength.
“I was just meeting with Mr. Sutton in his office. He sent me down to get Nate.”
We’re already at the elevator, the doors opening as Tina waves something in the air. “But he needs a visitor badge!”
I’m shoved inside as the orange-haired one, whose name I’m trying desperately to recall, waves her off. “He’s definitely notplanning to steal company secrets—I promise to deliver him myself.”
She pushes the button for the top floor, scanning her badge on a keypad before collapsing against the mirrored wall.
“Thanks, uh—” I pause, hoping she’ll take the hint.
“Frankie. And you’re welcome.” She goes silent, arms crossed and apparently lost in thought while the elevator climbs. Now that she’s quiet, she’s more familiar. I often see her lurking with Sophie and Lauren at the winery, but in all the time I’ve been back, we’ve never talked.
Not that I’m much of a conversationalist myself.
The silent elevator ride is getting awkward after she rescued me from the overly suspicious receptionist, so I clear my throat and say the first thing that comes to mind. “I didn’t know you worked here. For Sutton, I mean.”
She starts, then looks up at me. “What? Oh. Yeah, that’s how I met everyone. Lauren and Sophie adopted me when I first started working here. Theo’s been mentoring me and helping me and Julian work on a side project.”
“Julian? He’s the really big guy, right?” Last time we had a wine-club event at Sunshine, the dude single-handedly pushed a food truck out of the mud when it got stuck in the parking lot. He’s hard to forget.
She gets a soft look on her face as the elevator dings. “My husband.” She leads me toward a secondary reception desk, waving at a few people we pass. An older Black woman sits behind the desk, exuding competence.
“Hey, Mercedes. Nate Ridgefield is here to see Mr. Sutton. I rescued him from Tina and Stacia. I gotta get going, but I’ve delivered him as promised.”
Frankie turns to leave but stops a few steps away. “He’s a good guy, you know.”
“Sutton?”
She nods. “Yeah. He’s not perfect, but underneath it, he’s a good guy.”
Confused, I turn back to the receptionist. She doesn’t wait for me to say anything, just gestures toward the chair against the wall. “He’s wrapping up a phone call.”
I sit, fiddling with my phone. The quiet of the office is so different from the quiet of my winery. Instead of the bird sounds I’m used to, there’s a slight buzz from the fluorescent lighting and muffled conversations. I’ve never worked in an office—never wanted to. Just imagining being stuck inside here all day long gives me the shivers.
Even when the weather’s cold and wet, I’d still rather be outside working with my hands than staring at a screen all day. No wonder the Suttons spend so many weekends out at Sunshine—it must be a nice break for them.
“It looks like he’s off his call. Mr. Sutton will be with you in a moment.” Mercedes indicates to the door, and a second later, Theo throws it open.
He’s wearing a suit, complete with tie. I’m used to seeing him dressed more casually, calling his dog and staring lovingly after his wife. This Theodore Sutton is a whole different man, and I’m starting to understand the receptionist’s reaction to my casual reference to him.
He is far more intimidating in this setting than covered in sweat and leaves after helping with harvest.
