The Case of the Voracious Vintner

by Tara Lain

  Jeremy’s expression didn’t lighten. “Why aren’t you on your date?”

  The fact that Jeremy was so pissed about him seeing Sage gave Bo a minute’s thrill.

  “First, it wasn’t really a date. We’re just friends, and she agreed to make it look like a date to get my mother off my back and allow Sage to have an eligible escort to high-profile events she’d like to attend for her job. Second, she had to get back to her office to post a press release on the event. She volunteered to do one for us. That’s the whole story.” Bo wrapped his arms around himself because he’d left his damned jacket in the car.

  Jeremy sneered, which he carried off with more venom than Bo would have guessed. “Right. You just happened to choose the one damned female associated with the person who so obviously hates me and wants to destroy me. You can’t possibly be so naïve as to believe that any sweet nothings you whisper in her ear aren’t going to travel by high speed back to Ottersen giving the asshole even more ammunition against me!” His voice rose and the hair on Bo’s arms rose too. Damn, he’s so mad. I never thought he’d take it this way.

  Bo held up a hand. “Hold on, dammit. I’m not naïve and I’d never give Sage any piece of information to use against us. In fact, one of the reasons I agreed to be her pretend date was the opposite. To see if she’d drop something about Ottersen that could be useful to us. I happen to believe she’s telling the truth about her motives, but even if she isn’t, I’m careful what I say.” He hugged himself tighter. “I can’t believe you’d think I was colluding with Ottersen, for God’s sake.”

  Jeremy made a snorting sound. “Ottersen has to be finding out this shit about me somehow.”

  Bo tried not to yell. “Right, and it makes perfect sense that I’d collude with Sage in front of you and all the other vintners. For crap’s sake, Jeremy.” The pressure on Bo’s chest pressed against his heart and made him exhale long and slow. “Sorry you feel that way.” He turned and walked toward his car in the deafening silence. How exactly did everything get so screwed?

  One step, two, three—

  “So she’s just a friend?” Jeremy’s voice was so soft Bo almost didn’t hear it over the slamming of his pulse.

  He paused but didn’t turn. “Yes.”

  “And you’re freezing.”

  “Also true.”

  Silence, then Jeremy said, “Come on in—if you still want to.”

  Bo turned and watched Jeremy disappear through the open door. Do I still want to? Hellfire, yes.

  Resolutely, Bo walked into the tasting room, lit, as Jeremy seemed to like it, with only the lights over the tasting bar. Jeremy walked behind the bar and leaned on it. He stared down at his ripped forearms. “I’m crazy.”

  Bo barked a laugh. “Tell me something I don’t know, darlin’.”

  “I’m also sorry.” He looked up, his face flat and lined with some mixture of pain and embarrassment. “Ottersen’s attacks feel so personal, and I take them personally. It’s stupid and I’m ashamed of doubting you for even a minute. You’ve never given me any reason to feel that way.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it off his face, then dropped it. “Seeing you with Sage… really set me off. I’m honestly sorry.”

  Bo nodded slowly, still standing near the door. “I get it. It has to feel like an attack, what he’s doing. I was so intrigued by the combination of getting my mother off my back and snooping into Ottersen’s business, I didn’t really think about how it would look to you. So I’m sorry too.”

  Jeremy glanced up. “So there’s going to be a press release?”

  “Yes. I approved it, and it’s going to release tomorrow morning.”

  “How did it sound?”

  “Flattering.” Bo flashed his dimples.

  “That could be good if anybody picks it up.”

  “I agree.”

  “Red or white?”

  Bo let his smile break free. “I think I need some award-winning white.” He walked slowly toward the bar.

  Jeremy poured two glasses of chardonnay. He held out his glass. “To lots of award winning.”

  “And may the face of good news and the back of every bad news be toward us.”

  Jeremy snorted. “So why does your mother get on you so much that Sage has to pretend to date you?”

  One word. Two, actually. All he had to say was “I’m gay.” He drew in a breath. “Uh, because I just can’t find somebody I like enough to want to keep around. My mama thinks I should be spending so much time wooing women that there wouldn’t be a minute left to make wine.”

  “You should just give it up and date men.” Jeremy laughed, and Bo tried to do likewise.

  “You’re not the first to say it.”

  “I’m not?” He looked genuinely surprised.

  “You think you’re the only gay man I know?” He stared in his glass.

  “No. You’re hosting a gay wedding, but I didn’t know you have gay men lining up to proposition you.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly a line.” He turned up his lips.

  Jeremy laughed and said, “Here’s to men with good taste and to doing what we want—with a clear conscience.”

  Bo clinked glasses. He didn’t know exactly what Jeremy meant by that, but he could get behind that idea.

  Jeremy looked at his glass, then up at Bo. “Sorry I got so pissed. Stupid, really. I’d built up in my mind that it would be fun to celebrate winning with you.” He shrugged. “You know, since we both won. I guess I was shocked she worked for Ottersen. I couldn’t figure out what the hell you’d be doing with someone who’s on his side.”

  “She’s definitely pro-Ottersen, but she’s also kind of naïve. I keep thinking she might let something slip.” He shrugged. “My mother and sisters met her at a Junior League meeting. They didn’t remember who she worked for, and they don’t know about Ottersen anyway.”

  “Really? Your family doesn’t know about the stress you’re under?”

  My family doesn’t know much. “No. If Ottersen becomes a serious drain on my business, I may have to tell them. As it is, I don’t like to worry them.”

  “But that doesn’t give you any support.” A crease popped out in the perfection of his forehead.” Shouldn’t they be helping you in the business?”

  “God forbid. I get enough of them at home.” He smiled but was damned serious. “My father had a business that he and my mother built together. Then it got successful, and my mother sat back and became a Southern lady of leisure. That meant she didn’t know when the business started to fail, and my father never told her.” Bo sighed softly. “When my father died, she expected me to give up my silly California fantasy and come back to Georgia and take over their big, thriving business. I was stunned to learn we could barely get out of it with our shirt. I tried to tell my mother without denigrating my father’s memory. I think she never truly believed me.” He slowly turned his glass on the counter.

  “I’m really sorry. You must have been just a kid when you had to take on a family.”

  Bo nodded. The sweet, spicy scent of Jeremy circled his head and filled it like the smoke of a burning drug.

  Jeremy grinned and poured another inch of wine into their glasses. “So on happier topics, what time do you think our press release will appear?”

  Bo swallowed. “Not sure. Sage said in the morning. If it’s morning Eastern time, it will be really early here.”

  “Great. I’ll look for it as soon as I wake up.”

  Maybe that was a hint. “You must be very tired.”

  Jeremy glanced up with big liquid eyes. “Aren’t you? You worked even harder than I did.” Did he look hopeful?

  “Sure. Yes, I’m tired too. I just—”

  “Just?”

  “I like your company. You energize me.” He didn’t meet Jeremy’s eyes.

  Stillness, then Jeremy said, “I’m glad.” He clasped a warm hand on Bo’s arm. Whoa. No breath. That feeling like he had two brains crept over Bo as it always did when he was wi
th Jeremy. One half screamed Reach out and kiss him; the other side froze him like so many icicles.

  He desperately wanted the warmth of that hand to melt the ice, but before he could move, Jeremy pulled back with a distant smile. “So I guess I better let you go get some sleep.” Shit, Jeremy’s posture screamed You had your chance and you blew it. All Bo wanted was to grab his hand and pull Jeremy back—into his arms, then into his bed—but he didn’t move. Grab that hand, and everything changed. One kiss, and his relationship with his family and every person he knew would shift. Even his business. With things so uncertain, did he dare add one more layer of chaos?

  With a shrug Jeremy walked around the bar, across the room, and to the door, not even looking back.

  Well hell. I’ve just been dismissed. Bo took a deep swallow of his great chardonnay and followed Jeremy. At the door Jeremy turned, smiled, though it still looked tight, and said, “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “Yes. We need to go see Llewellyn and Blaise, uh, assuming you want to come with me, of course.”

  “Hey, this is more my fight than yours. I need to hear.”

  “It’s both our fights. Everyone’s, really. You and I also need to plan the trip up to Napa. I’ve already contacted some people I know up there and floated the idea of us coming to see them. So far, so good.”

  “That’s great.” He still seemed subdued.

  “So we’ll talk tomorrow.” Bo tried to smile.

  Jeremy just nodded and opened the door.

  Oh man, I don’t want to leave him like this—

  But he did.

  JEREMY WATCHED Bo walk down the steps of the tasting room. I should do something. Stop him. But what do I say?

  Slowly he closed the door. About the only good stuff in his life at that moment came from Bo. Quit pushing for more. More important, quit pushing him away.

  He walked back to the bar and washed the glasses automatically. The poor guy’s got enough on his plate. But he sure keeps sending mixed signals. Would a straight guy really say, “I like your company. You energize me”? Fuck, of course, if the straight guy was Bo. He was so formal, he probably says that to all the guys—and girls.

  Keep trying to get him in bed and I’m going to screw the pooch. He barked a laugh at his own appropriate turn of phrase. That was one pooch he’d seriously like to screw.

  The ring of the phone from inside the drawer beside him made him jump. Damn! He had to quit putting it off, but hell if he wanted to answer.

  Slowly he opened the drawer, mostly hoping it would stop. No such luck.

  “Hello.”

  “Nipote. Hello.” His grandfather’s rough voice vibrated the burner phone.

  “How are you, sir?”

  “Who the fuck cares? I want to know where you are.”

  “Sorry, sir, can’t do that.”

  “He’ll find you, and when he does, I have to know how to help you.”

  “No, sir. I can’t put you in the position of having to choose between us.”

  “Bullshit! You just don’t trust me.”

  Not altogether untrue, so he didn’t deny it. He and his grandfather had a truthful relationship—up to a point. Jeremy would never have known all his father had planned for him if he hadn’t asked his grandfather directly. “Did you want something else?”

  The old man sighed. “Are you okay, at least?”

  “I’m fine. Good, even.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  The question pushed against his lips, and he let it out. “Do you have reason to believe he’s getting close?”

  “Not specifically, but he has….” His voice drifted off.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, but don’t think for a minute that he’s given up. And you know what kinds of resources he has.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for calling.”

  “Wait. You know I’m not without resources of my own, nipote. Come home, and I’ll protect you.”

  “I can’t do that, sir. It would mean giving up my life and becoming a full-time fugitive.”

  “Fuck! What are you now?”

  “That I can’t say.” He let out his breath from a very tense chest. “Thank you for caring.” He hung up and slowly slid to his butt on the floor behind the bar.

  Here he was fighting for a business that could be gone in an instant—even with no help from Ottersen. He dropped his head to his knees.

  THE RINGING of his phone cut into Bo’s erotic dreams. His heart leaped. What the hell? He opened his eyes. Still barely a hint of light.

  Take a breath. It’s not Mama. No one would be ringing my phone about the family. They’d be banging on the door.

  The winery!

  He rolled over and felt for his phone on the nightstand. “Hello?”

  “God damn it, why the hell didn’t you tell me that the press release effectively accused me of cheating to win? How could you let that go out? Why didn’t you do something? Damn, Bo, I believed you when you said Sage wasn’t my enemy. Way more important, you said you weren’t against me.”

  “Stop! Jeremy, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You approved the goddamned news release. You told me so. Didn’t you get the implications between the lines? Bo, you can’t be this fucking stupid.”

  He flipped onto the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, and turned on the light. The clock read 5:30 a.m. “Quit this. The press release I approved was nothing but complimentary, especially to you. I’d never let something bad be said about you. I need to get up and search for the release. I’ll call you back.”

  Jeremy hung up before Bo could.

  He staggered out of bed, grabbed his robe, pulled it on over his sleep pants, and walked barefoot to his office. Inside, he snapped on the lights and hurried to his laptop. Flipping up the lid, he pulled up the search engine and typed in “Paso Robles Wineries” and “Dionysian Festival.”

  There it was. Holy hound dog shit.

  The release read much like what he’d approved until he got to, The fact that Jeremy Aames of Hill Top Wines, a newcomer to central coast winemaking and an organizer of the event, won first place in the white wine category was a cause of some controversy at the event and prompted some grumblings, despite the assurances of the judges that there had been no preference given to the organizers.

  Holy shit. He flopped back into the chair. She changed it. Oh sweet heart of Jesus, poor Jeremy. Weirdly, she hadn’t mentioned Bo, even though his win could have been considered as much of a fix as Jeremy’s.

  He stood and heard his cell ringing across the hall in his bedroom. Jeremy! He ran, grabbed the phone where he’d left it on his bed, and clicked on. “Jeremy?”

  “Bo, this is Sage.”

  He froze.

  “Please listen to me. I didn’t do that. Someone changed the press release after I called it in. I don’t know how or who.”

  “Like hell you don’t! Your goddamn boss changed that release, and you know it.”

  “He swears he didn’t. Please, Bo, why would he?”

  “Because he’s trying to put Jeremy Aames out of business, along with a lot of other vintners. I’ve got no clue why. Hill Top isn’t big enough to hurt him, but he’s doing it anyway.”

  “Bo, honestly, I don’t think that’s true.”

  “Fuck, how could you do this? One good thing happens to the man, and you help your boss make it just another way to destroy him.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Maybe not on purpose. I’ve got to go. I need to see my friend.” He clicked off, threw on some clothes, and ran down the hall toward the garage.

  His mother’s bedroom door opened. “Bo, what on earth is happening?”

  “A friend of mine is in trouble. I need to be with him.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “No idea.” By the time he got those words out, he called them from the end of the hall, then ran to the garage, started the Prius, and began backing. Damnation, no address.

&
nbsp; He hit Send on his phone. It rang and rang. Finally voicemail picked up. Bo yelled, “Jeremy, dammit, pick up this minute!”

  To his total shock, a voice said, “What?”

  “Give me your address—now!”

  “Why? You going to send me a nice potted plant?”

  “Just give it to me.”

  Jeremy recited an address in a very upset voice.

  “Thanks.” Bo spoke the address into his phone and followed the directions to a remote street leading to a gravel road in the hills behind the wineries. Damn, the man did not want to be found.

  Chapter Twelve

  BO PULLED up in front of a cabinish house made of wood, two stories on one side and a peaked single story on the other. As he crawled out of the car, the door opened. Jeremy stood there in his jeans and nothing else, his long hair matted like he’d been pulling at it, his eyes red.

  Damn. Bo slammed the door, ran up Jeremy’s porch steps, and didn’t even think before he gathered Jeremy’s lean body in his arms and held him tight, rocking. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how this happened. I swear, I saw every word, and it was different.”

  Jeremy’s body shook. “W-why does he hate me so-so much? Why is he doing this?”

  “I wish I knew.” Still holding tight, he walked Jeremy into the house, kicked the door closed, and half carried him through a small entry into a sparsely furnished living room. There was a couch, and Bo aimed for it and sat with Jeremy half pulled onto his lap. On their own, Bo’s lips grazed Jeremy’s forehead as he rocked. Anything to make Jeremy stop trembling.

  After a minute Jeremy calmed a little, and Bo loosened his grip of iron, but not by much.

  Bo said, “Sage called me a minute after I talked to you. She swears she didn’t do it, though she says she doesn’t know who did or how.”