Page 74 of Tempted Hearts
Cole
I’ll get us a ride there. Pick you up at 1:45?
Jules
I’ll be ready!
I stared at my phone. Nothing more. Just enough time to grab lunch and get ready.
I wondered about the ride and wasn’t surprised to see Parker pull up in front of my house at exactly 1:45. Since living in the city, Cole didn’t have a car here, not that we’d want to take one after a day at the winery anyway.
Cole jumped out of the front seat, dressed impeccably as usual. This time his sleeves were rolled up, the cuffs light blue, giving the whole thing a slightly more casual feel. And still, no glasses.
“Your chariot awaits,” he said, holding his left hand out for me to grab. I didn’t really need it to get into the pickup, but I took advantage anyway. As soon as our hands touched, it was everything. Unless I imagined it, he gave me a slight squeeze.
On the way there, I asked Parker how he’d gotten roped into being our driver for the day, and why he and Delaney weren’t coming along. Parker said he owed Cole one for helping him out that morning, but avoided my other question. I wondered if Cole had warned him away—and how Parker felt about all of this. Last night, he and Delaney had seemed to be of the same mind. Cole and I were not a good idea.
As if I needed to be told that.
Just as we pulled into the expansive vineyard that was Grotto Valley—multiple wine-tasting rooms and a brewery arranged in a semicircle with the lake and lakeside cabins beyond it—Delaney texted me.
Delaney
Be careful.
Instead of worrying her with “too late,” I sent her a thumbs-up.
It was the absolute perfect day for wine tasting.
“He’s playing in the brewery,” Cole said, “but I know you love wine. So you tell me—where do you want to start?”
I looked back and forth between the buildings, indecisive.
“How about we start with a wine tasting and then head over to Jake Jones?”
We walked in like any other couple, except we were anything but.
Cosimo Grotto, one of the vineyard owners, came around from behind the tasting bar to shake Cole’s hand.
“You don’t have people here doing this for you? Just like your father?” I asked him.
“It’s been too long, big city guy.” He looked at me. Smiled. Then went in for a hug. I squeezed him back having always thought he was a great guy. “How’s it going Jules?”
“No complaints at all. Looks like you’re doing great here.”
“Plugging along, as usual.” He walked back around the counter. “And yes, I do have people to do this, but no one knows these wines like we do.”
I assumed “we” meant he and his siblings, who ran the various buildings that made up Grotto Valley Vineyards.
“Glad to have the two of you here today.” He slid tasting menus in front of us. “We’ve got some new ones on there and some old favorites too. What are we thinking?”
Cole’s half smile made my knees weak.
“This one has recently developed a taste for Prosecco,” he said. “Have any bubbly?”
We went back and forth, each of us picking four wines. For some reason, I really liked the fact that he was tasting too. I’d assumed Cole might hold out for the brewery, not really being a wine guy.
When we were outside on the back deck, sitting at a table for two overlooking the lake, I said as much.
