Page 65 of The Bad Girl List

“Think they’re plotting ways to get Thomas into Minnie’s pants?” Trevor asks.

“I think so. Annika has been texting with Minnie ever since we met her that first night. She’s always been good at setting people up. Not so good with her own relationships, but don’t tell her I told you that.”

“Maybe Thomas should forget about Minnie and take Annika out instead. They seem to get along.”

“Bad idea,” I reply. “Thomas is totally Annika’s type.”

“How does that make it a bad idea?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but Thomas comes off as a player.”

“Ah.” Trevor nods in understanding. “Annika has a thing for bad boys?”

“Yes. She wants a serious relationship, but that won’t happen if she keeps dating players.”

“Okay. I promise not to play matchmaker. There’s enough of that going around tonight anyway.”

“Yes, there is,” I agree. “How’s Tequila, by the way? Your dog video was pretty funny.”

He grins at me. “That’s me before I’ve had my requisite amount of coffee.”

“That’s you pre-caffeine? I’d hate to see you completely doped up.”

“Nah,” he replies. “I’m pretty boring after three cups of coffee. Just ask my dog.”

“How come you didn’t bring her to dinner?”

“Remember how she went crazy with Dad? She’s like that around everyone. She doesn’t trust anyone except me.” He tilts his head. “And apparently, you.”

“I like animals. I always wanted to get a dog. It was on my five-year plan with you-know-who.”

The caterer takes our dinner plates and brings out a lemon panna cotta. As the ramekins are set down, Tim Moretti gets up to bring around a new bottle of wine. This one is smaller and skinnier than the rest. The liquid inside is a dark yellow.

“What is this?” I ask as Tim fills my dessert wine glass.

“Late Harvest,” he says in the rich voice I remember from the Presidio conference room. “Trevor can tell you all about it.”

“We leave the grapes on the vines for a few extra months,” Trevor says. “The grapes start to dehydrate and the sugar levels become very concentrated.”

I take a sip from the glass. Flavor explodes in my mouth as the sweet liquid rolls over my tongue.

“I think she likes it,” Tim says, grinning as he watches my face.

“It’s delicious! I’ve never had anything like it before.”

“Do you two have a minute?” Tim asks.

Trevor’s face clouds with suspicion. “We’re having dessert, Dad.”

“It'll just take a minute. Come on.”

I give Trevor a questioning look. He shakes his head, frowning at his dad’s back as he pushes out his chair. He grabs his glass, so I do, too.

Tim leaves the bottle of Late Harvest on the table and leads us into a small office attached to the event center. There’s a large desk pushed up against a window that looks out onto the back gravel area where I first met Tequila.

Two steps into the office, and I freeze.

Arrayed on portable easels are the wine label redesigns from Presidio. Six cream clone labels sit next to my three brightly colored ones.

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