11. Winnie

winnie

. . .

The following night I drove over to Abelard Vineyards to meet with Ellie about our wine tasting dinner, which was going to be at Cloverleigh Farms in mid-October. Henry DeSantis, the head winemaker at Cloverleigh Farms, was a good friend of Ellie’s dad and loved the idea. I’d put it on social media this morning, and already we’d received several calls from people inquiring about tickets.

Ellie answered the back door with a scowl on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, following her into the large, French-country inspired kitchen.

“He’s here,” she said bitterly, taking down two globe-shaped wine glasses from an open shelf.

“Who’s here?” I sat down at the marble-topped island, setting my laptop bag on the stool next to me.

“The scoundrel. The rake. The bane of my childhood.” She attacked a bottle of wine with an opener, taking out her anger with vicious twists of her wrists as she drilled into the cork.

“Gianni Lupo?”

“Shhh.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the hallway that led to the main part of the house. “I don’t want him to know I’m here.”

“Is he being interviewed for the head chef position?”

“Yes.” Setting the corkscrew aside, she poured us each a glass of ruby red Gamay from Abelard. “Tell me you mentioned the position to your sister.”

Guilty, I bit the tip of my thumb. “Shoot. I forgot.”

She stopped pouring and pinned me with a fiery look. “If he gets this job, you are dead to me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s been a crazy week. My mind was all distracted.”

“With what?” She picked up her glass and swirled the wine before sticking her nose in it and inhaling.

“I don’t know.” I slid my glass a little closer to me. “Work. Family.”

“Hot grumpy neighbor.”

“Hot grumpy neighbor,” I admitted, figuring there was no point in lying to her. “He came over again last night.”

“Oh yeah? What happened this time?” Her brown eyes danced. “Did he accidentally take your pants off?”

“No,” I said, like I was offended. “He brought me a Frosty.”

Her eyebrows went up. “How did he know you like them?”

“I guess I mentioned it the other night.”

“That was thoughtful of him, to bring you a little gift,” she said with syrupy sweetness before she took a sip of her wine.

“It was an apology, not a gift,” I explained. “He felt bad about what he said the other day at the pool.”

“He should. That was a dick thing to say.” Ellie swirled her wine again. “But I still think he doth protest too much. I think he is interested in you, and he was just trying to play it cool.”

“He said he was mad at himself and took it out on me.”

“Mad at himself for what?”

“Making a move on me, I guess. He thinks I’m too young. And he doesn’t date anyway.”

“He announced all those things?”

I shrugged. “Kind of.”

She nodded shrewdly. “More protesting too much. This dude is into you. He kiss you again last night?”

“No,” I said quickly, dropping my eyes to the marble counter. “He didn’t kiss me.”

“But he did something.”

“Sort of. Maybe.”

“What?”

I peeked up at her. “He—he kind of, uh, penetrated my mouth with his beer bottle.”

Ellie nearly choked on her wine. “ What ?”

“He stuck his beer bottle in my mouth,” I said, enunciating more clearly.

Unfortunately, right at that moment, the door from the hallway swung open, and Gianni Lupo strode in like he owned the place. “He stuck his what in your mouth?”

“What are you doing here?” Ellie snapped. “This is the private part of the house. Family only.”

“Good thing your parents just told me I’m family, and that’s why they hope I’ll accept their job offer.” He gave Ellie one of his cocky grins and turned his attention to me. “How are you, Winifred? Long time, no see.”

I hadn’t seen him since graduation, but he’d hardly changed. Same wavy, floppy dark hair that somehow looked styled and messy at the same time, same blue eyes that girls used to sigh over, same finely chiseled jaw, only now it held a thin layer of scruff. His nose was slightly crooked—if I recalled correctly, it had been broken by one of his brothers in a fight. But it took nothing away from his looks or his confidence in them.

I smiled back. “I’m good, Gianni. How’ve you been?”

“I can’t complain.”

“Can you leave?” Ellie asked.

“In a minute,” he said, picking up Ellie’s glass and tasting her wine. “But first I want to hear the story about the beer bottle.”

Furious, Ellie took her glass back and moved it out of his reach. “No. This is a private conversation, asshole.”

Gianni looked at me. “I don’t know about these work conditions. I might have to document this as harassment.”

“So are you taking the job?” I asked.

“I’m thinking about it. I love the concept, and the setting is perfect. I’d have input on finishing the kitchen, which I like. And hiring staff, which is important because I like things done a certain way.” He grinned again, glancing at Ellie. “And I love the idea of collaborating on the menu with the winemakers here. They’re so friendly.”

Ellie glared at him.

“Except maybe this one.” He jerked a thumb at her. “Why’s she always so mean?”

I smiled. “I think you bring it out in her.”

“You’d think she was the one who took seven pies in the face.”

“Eight,” said Ellie. “I threw eight pies in your face. Because you dunked me like fifty times in that stupid tank.”

“I know.” He chuckled. “I couldn’t resist. You looked so dry and comfortable sitting up there in your little crown and that Cherry Princess sash over your bathing suit. I spent every dollar I had on your booth, and then I borrowed some more. I was in debt for months. You should’ve been flattered.”

“They put my picture on the front page of the news looking all soggy and gross, thanks to you.”

“But just think of all the money you raised for our senior class,” he said. “We probably wouldn’t have been able to have that chocolate fountain at the Prom if it wasn’t for me. Anyway, thanks for inviting me to stay and hear the rest of the story, but I have to get going. Another time.”

“Bye, Gianni,” I said.

As he moved past a stone-faced Ellie, he planted a kiss on her cheek before she had a chance to duck.

“Ew, don’t!” She rubbed her cheek as if trying to erase the imprint of his lips.

While she was distracted, he stole another sip of her wine. “You know what? That’s really good. I’m excited about this job.”

She pointed at the door. “Get out and stay out!”

When we were alone again, she took a big gulp of her wine and poured some more. “I’m going to kill my parents.”

“Come on, he’s not that bad.”

“He is. You have no idea.”

“What the hell happened in that closet anyway? Are you ever going to tell me?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“You two were in there for a full seven minutes, and you’re telling me nothing happened? He didn’t even kiss you?”

“Nope. He didn’t kiss me.” She took another drink of her wine. “We spent most of those seven minutes fighting. Now let’s talk about this beer bottle situation.”

“I’m probably making a big deal over nothing, but...” Bringing my fingers to my lips, I remembered his eyes on my mouth and the light-bellied feeling it gave me. “It felt kind of dirty. In a good way.”

Her eyes gleamed. “So now what?”

“Now nothing. Even if he is interested, he won’t act on it.”

“So maybe you need to act on it.”

I shook my head. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m off men, remember?”

“You’re off relationships . You’re off falling in love. You don’t have to be off the fun stuff.”

“That’s not what you said the other day,” I reminded her. “You said I couldn’t handle doing the fun stuff without falling for him.”

“Well, I changed my mind. I think this could be good for you. A test of sorts. You can prove to yourself—and to me—that it’s entirely possible to mess around with someone without falling in love with him. A sort of neighbors-with-benefits arrangement.”

“Won’t that mean I’ve lost the bet?”

“No. As long as you keep things casual, you haven’t lost.” She hesitated. “But if you can’t keep your feelings out of it, then don’t do it.”

“I think I can,” I said. “I mean, it’s not like I’m in danger of mistaking his intentions. I know exactly how he feels. Love would never even enter the picture. It would just be for fun. A good time.”

“There you go.”

“I’d still be independent.”

“Exactly, you’re just adding a dick and some orgasms.”

Laughing, I fidgeted nervously on my chair. “But how do I let him know that I’m up for it? I’ve never made the first move before.”

“Easy.” She snapped her fingers. “Get naked and set off your smoke alarm.”

I set my glass down and pulled out my laptop. “Very funny.”

“Just go out on the patio when you get home tonight,” she said with a shrug. “If he’s out there again, he’s definitely into you, and you should be brave and make a move. Sit in his lap.”

“I’ll think about it. Now let’s get some work done—I talked to Henry, and he’s totally cool with whatever we want to do. I also spoke with our chef briefly today, and she’s got some great ideas. What do you think about bourbon braised pork belly?”

We went over the ideas for each course, and Ellie took notes on what wines from each vineyard she thought would pair well with every dish. At one point, her mom and dad came in and said hello, offered a couple suggestions, and said how happy they were about the event.

We talked about how many tickets we should sell in order to keep it intimate, and what our roles would be that evening. Both of us agreed we wanted to keep it small and exclusive, a little pricier than we were comfortable with but not so expensive it was prohibitive. Ellie would talk about the wines, I’d talk about the food, and we’d oversee the servers together.

“I wonder if we could do it outside in mid-October,” Ellie said. “Do you guys have a tent? Some heaters?”

“We have a tent for the stone patio that overlooks the vineyard. We had to use it a couple times this summer because of rain. But I don’t know about heaters,” I said, making a note. “I’ll find out.”

“Why don’t I come by Cloverleigh tomorrow and we can scout out some possible locations?”

“Sounds good,” I said, pulling up my calendar. “I have a meeting with Millie at ten and then I’m at the front desk after lunch.”

Ellie checked her phone. “I don’t have any tastings until two. I’ll come around eleven?”

“Perfect.”

On the drive home, Dex refused to leave my mind. Could I really seduce him? What if he turned me down? What if he laughed at me? What if I made things so awkward between us we could never look each other in the eye again? Was it worth the risk?

Was I confident enough in myself to go after a man like Dex?

A man with experience. A man who looked at me and saw a young, innocent girl. A man who’d made my nipples hard with a look and a glass bottle.

My pulse quickened as I turned into my driveway and looked at the darkened windows of his place. It was after nine. Was he in bed already?

“I’ll just go out on the patio for one minute,” I said as I pulled into the garage. “If he’s not there, that’s that. If he is, that will be a sign from the universe that Ellie is right and I need to be brave.”

I let myself into the house and gave Piglet some love, warily eyeing the glass door to the patio. After giving her a snack, I went upstairs to change.

Brave would be easier in a cute dress.

And sexy underwear.