Page 12 of Lochlan

Connell is observing me. “You did good today. Everyone drops glasses; it's okay as long as it's not a habit.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I’d better go.”

“I'm leaving too. I'll walk you out.” He dons his Stetson, then grabs his backpack from underneath the bar and hoists it over his shoulder. I've never seen a kilt-wearing Scotsman with a cowboy hat. It's like a cat riding a bike; it makes little sense. “Don't you need to change?” I glance at his kilt.

“No, I can do that at home, unless you want to grab a beer.”

CHAPTER6

INTELLIGENCE GATHERING

KENZIE

I'm in my car discussing where to go to dinner, while Connell stands on the other side of his truck, changing from his kilt to jeans. It's dark and the parking lot is empty, so no one is here to enjoy his quick change.

After a brief discussion of our favorite foods and places to eat, we agreed to meet at the 12th Street Garage restaurant for dinner. He's following me along the country road away from the winery. The lights of his truck flood the inside of my car briefly when we slip over a ridge. I lose him when I hit the freeway traveling toward downtown San Pacitas. His vehicle appears again when I pull into a parking space and he parks next to me. We chat as we walk through the lot to the restaurant.

I'll admit that one reason I agreed to dinner with Connell is that I'm attracted to him. He captured my attention when I saw him at the Novik Mansion, and it wouldn't be hard to get caught up in his dreamy amber eyes. He's all cut muscle with broad shoulders and a playful disposition. It's easy to see why he models, with that face and body. The men's uniforms in the MacTavish tasting room are a kilt and tighter than normal navy T-shirt that had most of the women just staring at the Connell and Lochlan eye candy show. I haven't forgotten why I took the job with MacTavish Cellars. I really accepted his invitation to get information about Lochlan. Right now, Connell is a means to an end; I can't distract myself with a cute Viking.

We settle into our seats among a packed crowd and order a beer before we review the menu. Connell glances at the menu, then at me. “You know, I knew who you were before you bumped into me in the tasting room.”

I decide to have a salad, then glance up from my menu. “Then why did you ask my name in the storage?”

He shrugs. “I knew who you were, but I didn't know your name. They ushered us out of the mansion after dinner, so I had no chance to meet you. I asked some of the guys if they knew who you were, but they said they didn't know, because they're not allowed to speak to any of the women except for Annabella, who hired us. They pay really well, so I doubt anyone wants to break the rules.”

“Working at Novik Mansion must be a great side hustle; is serving at parties all you do?” I say, remembering Poppy's veiled suggestion to take him up to one of the rooms for a private party.

“That was my second time working at the manor, but that's all I've been asked to do. I got the gig because some guy couldn't make a party, so my buddy suggested me. No shit, you guys are a volleyball team? I thought you were some secret sorority that had weird club meetings.”

“We're actually a volleyball club; we're called the Crimson Beaches,” I say, but there's no reaction to the club's name. I guess he's not a fan. “Last week was my first time at the mansion. Poppy calls our meetings ‘attending court’.”

He gives me a tight grin that borders on a leer. “One guy said you had group sex at the meetings; is that true?”

The waitress comes back with beers and takes our orders. I pick up the glass and take a sip. It probably looked that way to an outsider. It looked that way to me, and I'm part of the club. How to explain the dynamics of sports teams and their bonding rituals? “No, nothing like that. I guess you'd call her the team captain. She's a little...” I was going to say bat shit crazy, but instead I choose the word eccentric to describe Poppy. “She just wanted us to have a great meal and a memorable experience. The servers were a big part of the treat.” I set down my beer, thinking about the dinner. “You broke protocol that night. You were the only robot server who risked his job and winked at me.”

He flashes his camera-ready smile that almost has me catching my breath. “What can I say? I'm a romantic. You're too pretty not to wink at.”

I chuckle at his flirting. At least his lines are getting better. I can't forget he helped run interference with Lochlan today; without him there, it would have been a long shift.

“I want to know about you. What's it like being a volleyball player?”

“It's about what you’d expect, a lot of training, competition, and consumed with ranking.”

The waitress appears, sliding heavy plates onto the table, points out the condiments bar for Connell, then disappears into the bustle of servers moving back and forth from the kitchen. I poke at my salad, trying to figure out how to approach the subject of Lochlan without Connell realizing I'm on a fishing expedition. This won't be easy; the guy risked his job with Poppy to make an impression on me. Maybe after this Lochlan challenge is over, there might be time for us to explore our feelings? “How long have you been working in the tasting room?” I ask.

He steals a bite of his burger. I wait for a few seconds before he can answer. “One year,” he says. “During the final year of my viticulture program, I applied for an internship with the winemaker. I heard nothing for a long time, but when I did, there was no job with the winemaker, only a spot in the tasting room. I took it, figuring it was easier to get a job as an assistant winemaker if you're already working at the winery.”

“Is Lochlan the winemaker?”

He picks up a limp fry. “No, it's his cousin Geordie.”

“I've only met three people so far. It wasn't much of an orientation before I started working in the tasting room. What's Geordie the winemaker like?”

“You can't miss him. He's a giant, red-haired Scot; you'd remember him if you had paths crossed.” He chomps down on his fry.

“Have you made any progress with him?”

“No. As far as I can tell, he's not keen on internships. I'll give it three more months. If I'm not able to create an opportunity, I'll start applying again.”

---