Page 73 of Her Rugged Guardian

“On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a one point five if that tells you anything.” He even placed the original glass on the service bar’s surface as if he was terrified of getting cooties. As he’d done before, he used a thick black marker on a piece of paper on a clipboard, grinning like an evil warlock as he took his time jotting down notes.

It had been the longest two hours of my life, although watching him trod through muddy terrain in his Gucci crocodile loafers had been the highlight of my day. If I had to guess, I’d say he’d toss them into the trash since he had thirty more pairs exactly like the shoes he was wearing.

Now it was my turn to snicker. Maybe I was the evil one in the room. Too bad I hadn’t allowed Moose to come with us. The thought of seeing muddy paws all over the man’s suit would have been the maraschino cherry on top of the fabulous dessert.

After two minutes passed, I grew impatient, tossing back my nearly half full glass of wine. Something told me I was going to need more as well as a hot shower to rid myself of the man’s stench after he left. When I drummed my fingers on the bar’s surface, he lifted his gaze, finally returning the cap to his marker, sliding it into an interior pocket of his jacket before releasing the single piece of paper from the clipboard.

“My best advice to you is to sell, Ms. Dayne. The winery isn’t going to be profitable no matter what you do.” His words were icy as he handed me his report. “You have few grapes, sour stock, and only a couple hundred bottles of wine. Given all your help left, and employment numbers are low in the city, I doubt you’ll find grunt workers to do your bidding.”

My imagination had always been vitriolic and vibrant, two words that went together perfectly in my mind. The flash of colorful images had the bastard placed completely naked on an ancient torture device used to stretch people in all four directions until their limbs were torn from them. Maybe it was a little extreme but given the threatening phone call, I’d had my fill of assholes and alligators.

I barely glanced at the documentation, but what I saw infuriated me even more. Contrary to the crucifying black ink he’d used in scoring below average or poor on just about every category, I was seeing red.

My anger flared and I sucked in my breath before facing the pompous asshole. Since he was dressed in a four-thousand-dollar suit with a high dollar manicure including clear nail polish, I’d wondered the entire time whether or not he’d ever gotten dirt until his nails. “Why, Mr. Stocker? Because I’m a woman? Because you don’t think I can handle a little bit of hard work?”

His snort brought the irrational side of me to the surface.

“Because you’ll never make a profit. It’s just not possible and the wine isn’t award-winning material. More like what you’d find inside a 7-Eleven.”

Hold up. The jerk was comparing the wine my mother had painstakingly nurtured to MD 20/20? Oh, now I wanted to knock him out cold. Even my fingers were itching to do so. “I beg your pardon?”

“I call it as I see it, Ms. Dayne. It’s my understanding that your mother realized that and had accepted an offer, which was a smart business decision.”

“Not according to my mother’s attorney. And since I’m the new owner, I’ll make my own choices.”

He gathered his briefcase from the top of the serving bar, which he’d only opened to jerk out the ebony-colored clipboard, just like he hadn’t offered any real advice. “I’m afraid you’ll regret your decision. The town is close-knit, and people talk. They don’t like outsiders, Ms. Dayne, which is why your mother wasn’t welcome here.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? I honestly didn’t care at this point. If I had to guess, I’d say slick boy was friends with Malcolm Robinson. I’d just had a crash course in learning that it didn’t matter the size of the town, venomous snakes still lived in the shadows.

I was close to allowing my itchy fingers to do exactly what they wanted but thought better of it. For now. But if he dared show his face again, I wouldn’t hesitate to knock his block off.

“I think we’re finished here, Mr. Stocker. For good. Rest assured, I heard every word you said, but this is my legacy now and no one is ever going to convince me to sell. The wine isn’t cheap or pungent and if you notice, there’s plenty of delicious stock to keep me in business for a long time. I plan on reopening with a kickoff party that will knock the socks off this town. We’ll see how well liked my mother was.”

He huffed, staring at me with actual hate in his eyes. “Very well, Ms. Dayne. Have it your way. But with every month that passes, you’ll lose the ability to sell at all.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?”

“I don’t threaten anyone, Cassandra. I’m a businessman by trade, one who’s made various wineries a lot of money. I’m just telling you like it is. You will fail.”

Oh, yes, they did threaten. Along with the contract sent to my mother, I’d found notes she’d written detailing strange calls received during the months prior to her death. There’d even been mention of her workers being on the receiving end as well. No wonder they’d all quit within two weeks of each other.

If the bastards thought they were going to run me out of town that easily, they were wrong.

“Only my friends are allowed to call me by my first name.” I held my stern look as I folded my arms, cocking my hip. The man dressed to the nines had been late, rude, and even said my mother hadn’t understood anything about business, which is why it had failed so miserably. I could handle almost anything, but no one could ever say anything horrible about the people I cared about.

“Fine, Ms. Dayne. Mark my words. You’ll be in bankruptcy within six months.”

“Get out before I throw you out.”

My, oh my, the bastard actually looked incensed before spinning around on his expensive heels, taking long strides toward the open door.

With that, he left the winery.

Meanwhile, I sucked in my breath before fisting my hands, pretending I was issuing several brutal jabs into his face and gut. Maybe getting a punching bag would be a good idea. I’d never been so furious in my life. Okay, so I really didn’t know what Iwas doing and the amount of people I’d need to hire to get the winery up and running might break my budget given the repairs and updates needed, but that didn’t give the asshole the right to treat me like some idiot.

I spun around away from the door, staring up at the oak barrels, wondering how much wine had been left inside and if that was the case, if the liquid was rancid. The facility was incredible. I didn’t care what the supposed expert had said. It wasn’t too countrified, not by a long shot. To me, the room was rustic but cozy, the gorgeous bar for the tastings an exquisite piece of furniture.

All I needed to do was add festive lighting around the serving area, maybe a little music and some female touches and it would be good to go for a sinful wine tasting. Complete with baked goods and some yummy appetizers. A Halloween event sounded perfect. I could bake. I could invite everyone in town. I could… Have a nervous breakdown.

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