Page 10 of Lochlan

I've been in America for over three years and I still can't get over the betrayal or my exile. My job is enough to keep me busy and beyond that, I have Amber to keep me sane until she's gone and I get another one. It would be easier if I could call them all Amber, then there’d be no waking up in the middle of the night wondering who the fuck is in my bed.

“Let's see how much you've retained. Turn around; your first customers have entered the room.”

A couple drifts towards the bar. They appear to be together, but not a couple, like two colleagues. I hang back, working but also observing.

“Welcome to MacTavish Cellars. Will you both be tasting today?”

They say yes in unison.

Kenzie places two glasses on the bar and reaches for a bottle. “Let's start with the top of the tasting order with a chenin blanc.” She tips the bottle to pour. I glance down to check stock on an iPad.

“Is this your usual pour?” the woman asks.

I look over, thinking the customer has mistaken us for a bar, not a tasting room. The concern is not that she received too little wine in her glass, but too much. The pour is nearly at the top of the glass.

“Well, it appears you are the lucky winners of our bonus pour today,” I call out while taking two steps towards Kenzie and pulling the bottle out of her grasp. “Lass,” I say, “we're here to give them a taste, not to make them drunk enough to forget their time here.” I give my attention to the female customer. “Our eager Kenzie is training. If you don't want a generous pour, you are welcome to use the dump bucket when you've had enough.” I move the bucket between them. “Please let me know when you're ready for the next wine.” I signal Kenzie to follow me out of earshot to the far end of the bar. The customers take their glasses to look at the wine-related paraphernalia at the other end of the space. She wedges herself in the corner of the counter, wide-eyed like a startled woodland creature. “What possessed you to nearly fill the glass to the brim?”

She's chewing her lip, looking at me. “I've only poured beer before; I thought it was the same. When I'm at parties with beer or wine, everyone's glasses are nearly full.”

“You said you had moderate wine knowledge.”

Her eyes flash. “I know the difference between what's alcohol and non-alcohol.”

It sounds so ridiculous I nearly let go of my anger. This is dangerous; maybe with a little pressure, she'll give up this job and decide to waitress or maybe do something in retail.

“I think it's best you watch for now. Stack the dirty glasses from under the counter in the dishwasher. I'm assuming you have more than a passing knowledge of how that appliance works?”

The look she gives me could melt ice. I'm here to train her, not win a popularity contest for the best boss. If she doesn't like it, she can quit.

The customers return, dumping the contents of their wineglasses, having sipped through about half. I smile at them, mostly at the female because she's good looking and she takes my mind off of this wee witch who’s gotten a reaction out of me.

“I'll be your server while Kenzie is attending to other matters.” I pull a bottle from the frig underneath the bar. “I think this is your next wine.” I pour, paying attention to the woman. She's smiling back at me, to the dismay of the man she's with. As I thought, they're not together or she wouldn't show such blatant interest. “This is one of our two delectable chardonnays,” I say, filling the glasses. “The grapes were harvested...” I stop speaking mid-sentence because there's an ungodly sound of glass shattering behind me.

CHAPTER5

VALHALLA

KENZIE

For some ungodly reason, the rack of glasses slipped from my hands and tumbled onto the floor. Only five glasses shattered, sounding worse than the result. I look over to see three pairs of horrified eyes staring at me. I crouch to pick up shards of glass and to hide the heat that's crossing my face. Lochlan is saying something to the customers about my first day of training and making another joke at my expense. He's moved around the bar to usher them away and is seating them at a side cafe table. All the while, he's using that broad Scot accent to convince them there's no problem. He's left them with a bottle that has a small amount left, probably to placate them for me marring their tasting experience.

I'm praying he'll stay with them, but I'm not that lucky. He heads toward me, snatching up a broom before he reaches me, and motions me to get away from the broken glass. I haven't been whisper-yelled at since I was a kid. “Go to the storage for another rack; do you think you can manage that? The storage is outside just before the restrooms.”

I nod and continue to step back, eager to make my escape while he's still giving me instructions on the kinds of glasses to retrieve. Something about “the glass has a round bowl for reds.” I back out of the bar, happy to be leaving, turn, and slam into a man's chest. Raising my sight a little higher, I register a smirk, amber eyes, and blond hair topped with a brown Stetson. I mumble, “Sorry,” sidestep him, and head out the back door.

I jog to reach the storage, grateful there's no one around as I move along the path. There are two doors, one marked restroom and the other storage. Across the walkway is another building with a door marked private. Pushing the storage door open, I enter a cool, dark place, relieved to be alone. I take in racks of glasses, bottles, and unpacked wine cases. I don't begin my search immediately, sensing that this trip might end in disaster. Instead, I take a seat on the nearest stack of boxes. Shit, I just need a minute. How am I going to seduce a man who thinks I'm an ignorant wine klutz? I've worked with demanding coaches before, been tested by competition on the court. I don't back down from a challenge. If you tell me I can't, I'll work until I prove you're wrong. Poppy's challenge is no different from any other I've faced. It's a test to overcome adversity, so all I need to do is to find a way to win.

I get to my feet, ready to locate the glassware.

“Do you need any help?” A man enters the room before I can answer. Did Lochlan send this guy to check on me, or was it his idea to follow me? “Are you looking for the restroom, because it's at the end of the path.”

He gives me that same smirk from two minutes ago. The cowboy wannabe is leaning against the door, minus the hat, with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“I was cutting through the tasting room on my way to the restroom when I heard the wine manager ask you to get a rack of glasses from storage. I thought I would offer my services.”

“I'm good, I've already located what I need,” I say, turning toward the shelves that house the glassware.

“Alright then, my name is Connell, and you are?”

---