Page 50 of My Grape Crush
The caption?Our Roman Queen.Five flame emojis underneath.
A nugget of angst pings my lungs. I’m flattered he snuck the pic, but talk about the wrong post at the wrong time. If any of the girls from last night see this, they’ll put two and two together. The only saving grace is that Rhys didn’t tag me.
“You sure you have things under control up there, Miss Rialto?” the constable presses.
No, I’m not sure. In fact, I’m one thousand percent certain this whole project is flying off the rails.
“Absolutely. We have all our filming permits, and everything’s by the book. You could do me one favor though.”
His tone shifts into something less friendly. “What's that?”
“We’d like to keep it on the down low that Rhys is at the winery. Your help is appreciated.”
Silence. My ballsy assumption that he will help hangs precariously in the air.
Finally: “You around later today? I might mosey my way up there to take a look around.”
Great.First whiff of a celebrity in town and everyone wants a look.
“Of course.” I fake a smile he can hear across the phone. “We’re open until six p.m. Come by any time.”
I hang up, feeling the walls close in. Shania’s out. The RCMP now has a shiny boot in our affairs. A gang of fangirls waits to sink their talons into Rhys, and our media team thinks they walk on water.
Can the day get any better?
My phone buzzes again.
AR: It’s been five. Just sayin’
In the interest of getting her off my back, I call Amelia right away.
“Since when did you get so hot?” she demands. “And you said nothing to me about this photo shoot.”
“It all happened in the blink of an eye. I can’t front-run every detail with you.”
“Have you read any of the comments?”
“A couple,” I admit. Who knew there were so many variations ofWho’s that ho?
After a brief silence, Amelia says, “You’re handling this remarkably well.”
On another day, that comment might have rolled off my back. But the truth is, I’m on edge and uncertain where this is all heading. And lying underneath her observation is that I should be a wreck—that I can't handle pressure like she can.I exhale sharply. Jesus. Does it always have to be a competition? She even one-upped my birthday by a day. June fourth to my June fifth. It’s like she started her scorecard with me from the womb.
Before I say something I regret, Evelyn appears in the doorway.
“I’ll check in later, Ames. Gotta run. Hello,” I say to Evelyn with a ready smile.
“Hello, dear. You look a little stressed.”
She scans my palatial office, and I feel the weight of her scrutiny. My heart skips away, double tempo. I can’t unload all of this right now. I need to process.
“Just one of those mornings.”
Evelyn stares at me for three seconds before giving me the benefit of the doubt. “If the situation gets dire with those girls, let me know ASAP. Gail Stafford from Osoyoos Tourism texted me this morning saying it was important. Do you mind giving her a ring? I have a feeling she wants to stick her nose into this too.”
Oh god. Gail is the local chatterbox. Another prying local. “Will do.”
“So you know,” she continues, “Tomas plans to attend the Wine Grower’s meeting tonight. Don the armor. He will go off on Divine Debauchery and a million other things.”
