Page 99 of The Bad Girl List

I GOT A JOB!!! WILL TEXT MORE LATER.

Her response comes immediately. WTF? Need details NOW.

Later. If you get home before I do, cover for me.

You suck. You’re also missing out on an awesome view.

This last statement is followed by a view from a hilltop that overlooks a sweeping vista of vineyards and a gleaming river. I quickly put my phone away as I see Tim heading back in my direction.

“Here we go.” Tim slides back into the car. The scent of the burritos instantly fills the small space. “Would you mind driving up to the winery with me to eat? There’s a view of the Dry Creek Valley at the back of our property that is to die for. I would love for you to see it. I think it will inspire you. We can eat lunch up there while you soak in the sights.”

“Sounds great,” I say. “Can you tell me which parts of my designs you liked, and what your ideas are for revisions?”

We chat as he drives back in the direction of the winery. Now that everything is out in the open–why I lost my job, the truth of why Trevor and I aren’t speaking anymore–I’m much more relaxed. And since we’re talking about art and design, I’m even excited.

I notice when Trevor’s bungalow comes into view as we drive through the dirt road of the winery. I have a brief moment of panic, thinking Tim might have a plot up his sleeve to make us talk, but Trevor’s truck isn’t there and Tim drives by without slowing.

Dust spews into the air as Tim rolls deeper into the vineyards. “Zinfandel is on the left,” he says. “Chardonnay is on the right. I’m taking you up to our Cab block on the plateau.”

The road angles upward. The vineyards end, giving way to oak, bay, and manzanita trees. We round a corner and the road becomes even steeper.

“Don’t worry, the Tesla can handle it,” Tim says.

“There are vineyards way up here?” I ask.

“Yep. Once we get to the top, you’ll see. The soil is much rockier. The vines are in a constant state of distress, which causes them to produce highly concentrated fruit. It’s where our award-winning Cab comes from.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

I soak in the scenery, my mind already churning with design ideas. As soon as we stop, I plan to start drawing.

A few minutes later, the trees fall away. The Tesla pulls up onto a high plateau covered with vineyards.

“I see the difference,” I exclaim. While the vines at the lower elevations were tall and lush, these vines are short and gnarled. The leaves are smaller and farther interspersed on the vines. “You’re saying the grapes up here make better wine than the grapes down below?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Tim switches off the car on the edge of the vineyard. “Come on, let’s take a walk. There are some picnic benches just past those trees.”

I get out of the car. Tim leads me away from the vineyard, heading for the overlook. The plastic bag with our burritos swings from one hand.

“The view from up here is breathtaking,” Tim says. “My wife wanted to build another event center back here, but my dad wants to keep this area just for the family.”

We pass under a cluster of pine trees that have been pruned to create a tall canopy. Outdoor lights crisscross above half a dozen picnic tables.

And there, standing next to one of the tables with dirt up to his elbows and sweat curling the ends of his hair, is Trevor. I grind to a halt, all the moisture abruptly sucked from my mouth.

I stare at him. He stares back, mouth hanging open in obvious surprise. He’s so gorgeous in his rumpled, dirt smudged button-down and dented cowboy hat that it makes my eyes hurt. The sight of him sends hot embarrassment all the way down to my toes.

Even though I’d been hurt by the fallout of our tryst in the woods, I hadn’t anticipated how it might feel to lock eyes with him again. The encounter has me feeling equal parts embarrassed and angry. There’s a solid ten yards between us, but the tension is so taut I’m pretty sure Tim can feel it.

Tequila comes hopping around the picnic table. She alternates between growling at Tim and yapping at me with excitement. She hops in a circle around my legs, her tongue hanging out.

I have never been so happy to see an animal in my entire life. I bend down to pet her, glad to have something besides Trevor to focus on. She leans into me when I bend down, her dark eyebrows flattening out as she closes her eyes in contentment.

Tim Moretti doesn’t miss a beat. “Trevor.” When he smiles, I have a feeling this is his special smile, the one reserved for those big deals he lands when he’s selling wine. “I didn’t realize you’d be up here today.”

Tequila barks at him, the fur standing up along her back, but she doesn't stir from my side.

“You knew I was going to be up here,” Trevor said flatly. “When you texted me last night to ask me what I was doing today, I told you I was working on the horn compost.” He says all this without looking at me.

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