Page 14 of Trouble Me
“KVN Incorporated.” When Amelia didn’t respond, Emma slid off the stool and began to pace the room. “Yes, it’s at the Gold Mountain winery, before you ask what you already know. But it's not like I'll be around alcohol all the time. And they sell more than just wine. They make grape juice as well.”
Amelia stayed silent, but kept her eyes on Emma as the mixing bowl circled between them. “That’s the Kavanaugh family, isn’t it?”
Emma nodded, thinking about Shane, and tried not to remember his intense blue stare.
“Ah, yes.” Amelia stopped what she was doing and stared into space, a faraway look in her eyes. “I met Shane a couple of months ago when he and his brother, Colin, were here for a Chamber of Commerce meeting.” She fanned herself. “Whew, those Kavanaugh men are hot. Shane is a dead ringer for that British model, what’s his name? David something.”
“David Gandy?”
Amelia snapped her fingers and pointed at her. “Yes, David Gandy. And his brother, Colin?” She rolled her eyes in a mock swoon. “Man, they grow them well out there in California. I’m serious, when they smiled at me, I nearly had an orgasm right there in the middle of the meeting.”
Emma rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh. “Oh my God, stop it.”
“I had to stick my head in the freezer when I got home.”
Emma couldn't hold back her laughter any longer.
Amelia scooped some dough onto a cookie sheet. “I wonder if they're single.” She bobbed her eyebrows at Emma.
Emma shrugged and ignored her quickened pulse. “I have no idea. Anyway,” she continued, “I should find out today if I got the job, but he made it clear at first he didn’t want to hire me. Gave me the old ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you’ line.” She waved a hand. “I’ve heard it before. Hell, I’vesaidit before.”
Amelia wrinkled her nose. “Did he say why he didn’t want to hire you?”
“Because I’m overqualified.” She leaned back against the counter. “I pled my case. Told him to hire anyone from Atlanta would cost him a lot more.Ifhe could get anybody to drive this far to do it. More than likely he’d have to move them here.”
“Yeah, even someone from the northern suburbs would have at least an hour commute.” Amelia’s lips pursed. “I really wish I could hire you full-time, Em. But I’m just not there quite yet.”
Emma smiled at Amelia. “I know. Everything you have is tied up in this place, as it should be. I wouldn’t take your money, anyway.” She held her smile even though her stomach nosedived when she said, “I don’t know how much room you have in the loft upstairs, but keep the couch open for me just in case. Okay?”
Amelia nodded. “Deal.” She paused, narrowing her eyes. “I'm guessing you didn't mention your issue to the handsome Mr. Kavanaugh.” Emma shook her head. “I figured,” Amelia continued. “Don't you think he might find out? A lot of people in this town know about your fall from grace.”
After living in the city for so many years, Emma didn't miss the small-town grapevine. In spite of the growth and the influx of tourists, there were still locals who made it their business to know everything that went on in town. Being part of the Reynolds family tree didn’t let one stay off the radar for long.
Emma averted her gaze from Amelia's forceful stare. “I know I probably should tell him, but not right now. I'll lose the job before I even start if I mention it now. I need to prove I’m the right person for it. Besides, he won’t be here all the time once the winery opens.”
From her back pocket, Emma’s phone rang. An Atlanta number she didn’t recognize flashed across the screen. “Hold on, let me take this call.”
Emma walked into the small office and the shut the door behind her. “Hello?”
“Good morning, is Emma Reynolds available?”
“This is she.” Emma’s stomach clenched, praying this wasn’t someone else from the mortgage company.
“My name is Tim Ford. I’m a real estate broker from Hattersley Brothers, in Atlanta. How are you today?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone clipped. Her brows drew down. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m glad to finally get you on the phone. I’ve left you a couple of messages recently.”
Emma sighed. What the hell did this guy want? She hoped by ignoring the messages, he’d get the point she didn’t need his services. Were agents that hard up these days? “I received them. I'm not interested in selling, but thanks for the call.”
“Even if—”
Annoyance simmered under her skin. “I’m not interested in selling my home right now or anytime in the future. Now, please stop calling me.” She hung up and slid the phone back into her pocket with a growl.
“What was that?” Amelia asked when Emma stomped back in the kitchen.
Emma waved a hand. “Just an annoying sales call. Anyway, I need this job to save the house.” Especially since it appeared the vultures were circling thinking she was going to sell.
