Page 17 of My Grape Crush
But Nicole is a passionate woman when it comes to wine.
“By the way,” Evelyn says, “I had a lovely discussion with Rhys last night. So down to earth!” She removes her sunglasses, offering a pleased flicker of her eyebrow. “And he said you wereveryaccommodating.”
“I did my job,” I say. “I’m glad he appreciated that.” But the thrill of hearing that he did warms my insides.
“Oh, yes,” she assures me. “He gushed on and on. How did it go with the coffee cream mission? He seemed eager to get that sorted out.”
“Oh?” Nicole perks up. “Is that why you’re late?”
“No!” I blush redder than the cherries. “I mean, yes, he came over. For the cream. Nothing more. I told him to reach out if he needs anything.”
Evelyn and Nicole share a look. I’m rambling, filling the space like I always do. The slow-spinning floor fans on the patio feel like soldiers designated to keep my pathetic denials from floating away.
Evelyn smooths the front of her emerald caftan. “I think he’s delighted to be under your watchful eyes.”
Her gaze falls onto my dress, and she nods with silent approval. The dark blue sundress clings nicely before flaring into a breezy A-line. I styled my hair into two thick braids and paired it with silver hoop earrings. The overall look says casual but classy—we are moving on from yesterday.
Or so I hope.
“I think he’s delighted to make a million dollars,” I point out. “That’s why he’s here. Let’s not fool ourselves. And, for the record, every woman knows you don’t fall for man candy like Rhys. He’s a guaranteed broken heart.”
Nicole clears her throat and straightens in the chair, chin lifting slightly. Evelyn stills, tipping her head side to side, like a bird. Or like someone who is trying to give me a clue.
Shit.
Too late.
Just when I think Jesus has decided I have humiliated myself enough in front of this man, adeep rolling voice comes from right behind me.
“Morning.”
Chapter Six
RHYS
Well,this is awkward.
I could drive a train through the tunnel of silence. Dani finds something fascinating on the patio to stare at while Evelyn, the clever old bird she is, swoops in to save the day.
“Welcome, Rhys!” she chirps, her tone slightly too bright. “You look refreshed. Did you sleep well?”
“It took a while to crash,” I admit. “But I had great dreams.”
The simple truth? I still haven’t recovered from last night. I was in a state of near paralysis all morning, lying in bed and fantasizing about Dani’s pearls—caught between torment and lack of any coping mechanism.
“Hi, I’m Nicole Tanner. Recovering lawyer.” The third woman, who has been eyeing me like I’m a fraud, rises from her seat. She extends a mannish hand, dirt caked under every ragged fingernail. “I’ll be schooling you on everything about rosé.”
She crushes our handshake, and I’m briefly silenced by her strength. Nero’s famous winemaker is more handsome than pretty, built lean, with a salt-and-pepper buzz cut and a generous mouth. She looks like a middle-aged Mick Jagger … if he were a woman.
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “And I’m ready to learn.” Turning to Dani, I ask, “How was your night?”
Dani has stubbornly refused to meet my eyes until now. I can see the line of tightness on her forehead, and I attempt to erase it with a wink. I’m stoked that she considers me man candy, but the heartbreaker bit?
Not so much.
“Hot,” she says. “But I survived.”
“I texted Zachary to get his butt in gear to repair the AC,” Evelyn adds. “He did say he fixed your door yesterday. It shouldn’t be sticking anymore.”
