The Case of the Voracious Vintner

by Tara Lain

  Jeremy nodded. “Yes. He’s my right arm. But he’s young, straight out of school, and I can’t think of a reason why he’d benefit from trying to put me out of business. He’d lose a job and a paycheck.”

  “W-what about p-people from y-your past? S-someone who m-might wish you ill?”

  Jeremy tried not to tense since Bo was still touching his leg.

  Bo laughed. “I don’t have any people from my past that don’t live right here, mostly in my house. Lord, you’d think I transported the entire state of Georgia onto Tara or something.”

  Smile, dammit. Don’t let them see you sweat. “No, can’t think of anyone. I’m estranged from my family. I haven’t kept in touch with college friends, and I didn’t really have any significant jobs before I bought Hill Top.”

  “M-may I ask wh-where you g-got the money to buy it?” Those piercing eyes seemed to bore through him, daring him to tell a lie.

  “Inheritance. My mother left it to me in her will.” That at least was true. The fact that he’d had to steal it back from the thieves who’d claimed it would not be mentioned.

  Bo said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” He looked like he wanted to take Jeremy in his arms and hug him right after he sent a covered casserole. The man was too sweet.

  “It’s okay. I didn’t know her well. She left before she died. Anyway, that’s it. No bank robberies in my lascivious past.” Not banks, anyway.

  They all laughed and finished their salads, chatting a little about Llewellyn’s other mystery cults he was working on in addition to the Dionysian mysteries.

  “Your n-neighbor, Ezra Hamilton, asked w-what we thought of y-you honoring the Dionysian F-Festival. He s-seemed very concerned.”

  Blaise set down his empty tea glass, and the young waitress hurried over and filled it from her pitcher as she passed their table. “I’d call it interested. He actually asked me if I knew if you were gay, Bo.” Bo’s body tightened next to Jeremy, but he didn’t say anything. “Funny, while he makes a big show of his disdain for the fact that you’re gay, Jeremy, I thought he was also, I don’t know, what would you say, dear?”

  “T-titillated.”

  “Perfect. He definitely has a prurient interest in your sexual identities.”

  Jeremy snorted. “The old hypocrite. Probably chases choirboys around the upright organ.”

  That lightened the mood for a minute. Truthfully, he’d had a lot of delving and could use a break, badly as he wanted to discover who was doing all the evil shit to him. But he hadn’t thought about the possibility that it could be anyone except Ottersen. His father was too direct. Too ruthless. If he’d found Jeremy, it seemed unlikely Jeremy would still be alive—or at the very least, not walking around free. No, his money was still on Ottersen—but the slight chance it could be someone else gave him the willies. Total.

  Bo said, “So we should let you get back to work.”

  Yes, and Bo wanted to quit talking about whether or not he was gay. Damn, if he’d come out to his friends, it would have been a real commitment to wanting to be with Jeremy, but no such luck.

  “I can’t begin to thank y’all for the astonishing amount of work you’ve put in on our behalf. I think an even bigger discount on your wedding reception is in order.”

  Blaise held up a hand. “No need. Your prices are more than reasonable, and mysteries are our life.” He picked up Llewellyn’s hand and kissed the back of it. Jeremy could practically hear Bo sighing. Hell, he was too. “But you’re right. I do have to teach a class in half an hour, and I’m sure Llewellyn is hot on the trail of some sexy Dionysian he’s tracking down.”

  Llewellyn grinned. “B-but most of Dionysius’s followers w-were f-female. N-not my t-type.”

  “Good, chase them all you want.”

  Jeremy snarked, “Better yet, leave them for Ezra.”

  Llewellyn’s eyes glistened with interest. “M-must admit, it’s an unusual obsession.”

  “If you think about it, a lot of stuff associated with this case is unusual.” Blaise gathered his notebook.

  Still talking, they left money for the check—Bo insisted on paying—and left the restaurant with promises to come back and try the asparagus soup.

  In the Prius, Bo said, “So what’s our next step? What should Jeremy and I do to carry on your good work?”

  Llewellyn said, “W-we’ll still help too.”

  “Oh, we can’t ask you to waste more of your valuable time on this, Llewellyn.” Bo glanced in the rearview mirror.

  Blaise leaned forward and stuck his head between the seats. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of us. We’re hooked on your mystery, and we won’t quit ’til we’ve solved it.”

  That was both comforting and worrying, but Jeremy smiled.

  “W-we will keep d-digging into b-background and following threads w-we’ve uncovered,” Llewellyn said.

  “You’re both better than butter. Thank you so much.”

  They dropped Llewellyn and Blaise off at the campus. Silence fell, and not altogether comfortable. Jeremy finally said, “So what did you think about all that?”

  “Mixed.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I can’t get my head to stretch far past Ottersen. I understand their point, but I just don’t see who else has much to gain.”

  “I’m so glad you said that.” Jeremy flopped his head back on the seat. “I think it’s Ottersen. Damn the man, he’s taking me out and then he’ll move on to someone else. He’s guilty as sin.”

  “Yes.” He drove a little farther. “I do wonder why he chose to take you out so viciously. It tips his hand to the bigger vineyards, and yet he has relatively little to gain by bringing you down. He mostly sells bulk, and you don’t. You’re part restaurant, and it’ll take him time to get food service going. I truly don’t get it.”

  Jeremy frowned—and sighed. “Yeah. Neither do I.”

  “I should take you to Hill Top, right?”

  “Yeah, lots of work to do.”

  Bo looked over as he turned onto the road to Hill Top Winery. “Wish I didn’t have to work, though.”

  Jeremy smiled. The future looked full of lots of things they both wished they could do.

  As they pulled up in front, Christian walked out on the porch. His face looked like someone killed his puppy and fried it.

  “What’s wrong?” Bo glanced toward the building.

  “Christian.” As the car slowed, Jeremy leaped out and trotted up to where Christian stood. “What? Tell me.”

  “Frenfield.”

  “No, dammit.”

  Bo walked up behind him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Jeremy said, “What about Frenfield?”

  Christian’s eyes watered. “They canceled our contract.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “No. Come on.”

  “They called and said they’d decided to go in a different direction. I asked. I had to know!” His voice came out as a cry, and tears ran down his pretty face. His voice came in gasps. “Ottersen. They said they gave the contract to Ottersen.” He hurled himself at Jeremy and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Oh God, Jeremy, are we out of business?”

  Jeremy yanked Christian off him like a vitamin C peel. “No. No, we’re not. Bo and I are going to Napa to talk to the vineyards personally, right, Bo? We’re leaving right away, right?”

  “Sure. Right away.”

  Christian wiped at his eyes and ran his wrist across his nose. “I’m—I’m so sorry. It’s just we’ve worked so hard. I feel better now.” He sucked in an audible breath. “I’ll keep everything running while you’re gone.”

  “Thanks, Christian.” He gave him a one-armed guy hug. Then he looked up at Bo. Jesus, he said he didn’t want to take Bo down with his sinking ship. Maybe Bo didn’t want to go to Napa anymore.

  Christian sniffed and glanced between them. “I’ll get back to work. We’ve had a busy day. At least the tasting room is doing okay.” He plastered on a phony smile and walke
d into the building.

  Jeremy turned to Bo, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Sorry. I just wanted to make Christian feel better. I know this might not be a good time for you to take off for Napa.”

  “No. I think we should. It’s essential to all our survival.”

  “Are you sure? My prospects look worse and worse.”

  “Of course I’m sure. I need a day to set up some appointments.”

  Jeremy nodded. Damn, his belly felt tied in knots. Bo was so great, and Ottersen was a fucking, cheating bastard.

  He watched Bo drive away and slowly walked into the tasting room with a smile on his face that never reached his eyes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  BO SHIFTED his overnight bag to the other hand and sorted through the mail that had been left for him on the entry table. Quickly he glanced at it, then looked at his watch. They had to get going. It was about a four-and-a-half-hour drive to Napa. They’d considered a train or plane, but ending up in Napa with no car didn’t make sense.

  He tossed the mail on the table—mostly bills he’d pay later—and walked toward the garage door.

  “Bo?”

  Damn. He’d considered telling Mama but had half hoped to sneak out and call her from the road. Of course, talking to her with Jeremy listening in could be embarrassing. He turned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You going somewhere?”

  “Yes, I have a short trip to take to Napa wineries. I’ll be back in two days.”

  “Oh. When were you going to tell us?” Her eyebrows rose in vast disapproval.

  “I need to get on the road and wasn’t sure if any of you had arisen, so I planned to call. Why? Did you have something important to tell me, ma’am?”

  “Not precisely, but what if there was an emergency?”

  “That’s why I planned to call you. Besides, there are a lot of you here to handle emergencies, now aren’t there?”

  “Yes. We’re so fortunate to live in the loving embrace of family.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll see you in two days.” He stepped over to kiss her cheek, ignored her less than enthusiastic expression, and walked out the door. The meter on his endurance tank hovered inches from Fed Up.

  Before he could get in the car, Blanche came walking in through the garage door. “Bo.”

  “Hi, Blanche. Sorry, I’m in a terrible hurry. Anything I can help with fast?”

  “I was wondering. I had a great time helping out at your festival thing, and I thought maybe you might have a job for me at the winery. You remember I did some marketing before….” She drifted off in her spacy way. She didn’t say before she’d seemed to lose interest in most everything except reading romance novels and dreaming about some imaginary future where she got married and had a grand house.

  Bo tried to erase the crease from his forehead. “I haven’t noticed any interest in returning to work prior to now.”

  “I know. I guess I was in a slump there for a bit, but now I want to move on with my life.” She shrugged.

  The fact that the slump had lasted the full seven years since she’d graduated from college with a major in English poetry and a minor—very minor—in marketing did not bear mentioning. “I can’t afford to add a new employee right now, Blanche. Every position’s filled.”

  She frowned. “I thought your winery was doing so well.”

  “We’re holding our own, but we won’t be if I start packing on employees I don’t need.” He smiled to soften the blow. “I love that you want to get your life together, but maybe start at another winery or one of the companies in Paso or San Luis.”

  She screwed up her face. “But I’d feel more comfortable getting some experience with you before I try my skills out on another company.”

  “Why not apply for an internship? Most of them aren’t paid, but it would give you a chance to hone your skills without having too much expectation piled on top of you.”

  Her face lit up. “Perfect! I’ll be your intern.”

  “We don’t have an internship position, Blanche, and—”

  “You can create one, right?” She hopped up and down like a kid rather than a woman of twenty-nine. “Oh I’m so excited. When can I start?”

  “I’m going to have to talk to my staff. You can’t have an internship without a supervisor, and that means someone has to be willing to do that. I’ll be out of town for two days, and then I’ll see what they say.” His insides were rebelling, and he wanted to scream.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Napa.”

  “Can’t you stop on the way?”

  “Blanche, was there something about ‘I’m in a hurry’ that wasn’t clear?”

  Her face crumbled in woundedness. “You don’t have to be mean.”

  “First, I’m sorry, and second, if you want to go back into the business world, you’ll have to toughen up.” He let out air. “I’ll try to contact my marketing manager by phone and float the idea.”

  “Oh thank you, thank you!” She leaped up and kissed his cheek, which drove him directly into the car where he applied pedal to metal.

  Speeding out onto the main road, he hurried to Hill Top. The faster he got away from home, the better.

  Good God, what kind of wild hair had gotten into Blanche? Years of being the Queen of Luxury Living, second only to Mama, and now she wanted to be a worker bee? Why? The idea of having her that close to his business, where she could observe and report back to the family, made him damned nervous, and not just about the threats to his winery. What if he wanted to escalate things with Jeremy a bit? He’d never have any privacy anywhere. Blanche might be an airhead, but she had two eyes.

  Just plain shit.

  The only consolation was that there stretched ahead of him two whole days with Jeremy—and two whole nights. Anything could happen, and he’d brought the condoms and lube in case that anything included a breach of his nether regions that he’d been stretching just in case. Of course, Jeremy might not be into it. He’d been kind of distant sometimes, and Bo couldn’t blame him. Hell, who wanted a lover who was in the closet? More than in the closet. Under his mother’s thumb. Good Lord, is it just a Southern thing, or am I a complete wimp? He sighed. Maybe I shouldn’t answer that. Yes, his mama had lost everything—her husband, her business, her community—but was there a line in the son contract that said he had to be the one to make all that up to her? He’d accepted the role without question. Now the questions flooded his brain.

  He turned on the road to Hill Top, the early-morning sun shining through the windshield. Okay, quit. Focus on your trip and the time with Jeremy. Who knows how many more of such times there will be.

  As he approached the building, the whole scene with Christian played through his head. Clearly, the guy seemed dedicated to Hill Top—and to Jeremy, I suppose. But losing the contract? No matter how Bo turned it in his mind, Ottersen’s seemingly single-minded dedication and focus on putting Jeremy out of business didn’t add up. Bo didn’t know how big the contract Jeremy lost was, but compared to what he knew of Ottersen’s deals, it had to be small. Was Ottersen really expending all this vicious energy against one of the smallest vineyards on the central coast when big fish like Fernando Puente and Randy Renders kept operating? Yes, they’d lost a little business, but not much more than seemed normal when facing an aggressive competitor. And because of Jeremy’s experience, they were all on their guard. It wouldn’t be as easy for Ottersen to take them out.

  Jeremy walked out on the porch, his expression still subdued, but he carried a small bag over his shoulder. Christian walked out behind him lugging a big box that was probably wine samples and bottles. Bo had already stocked the car with his bottles and a laptop and PowerPoint he’d had his marketing manager put together. He hopped out, opened the trunk, and then held the passenger door for Jeremy. Jeremy said, “Thanks, Christian. Keep a good thought for us.”

  “I will. I can barely think about anything else.”

  Bo ju
st nodded and crossed to the driver’s side. It was hard for him to like Christian, which clearly wasn’t fair since the guy worked his ass off for Jeremy. Just jealousy.

  He got in and looked over at Jeremy’s beautiful face, hair pulled harshly back to show off his cheekbones and the firm line of his jaw. Interesting. The hair feminized him, but without it, his face was quite masculine. Still handsome as warmed sin. Bo said, “Let’s forget all the shit and have a great trip. What do you say, darlin’?”

  Jeremy nodded. “I’ll try. Honest.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, actually. I had so much to do to get ready, I never ate this morning.”

  “How about we stop and have a filling breakfast that will hold us until we get to Napa for dinner? Or not. I’m sure we’ll be mightily tempted by every restaurant in San Francisco.” Bo chuckled, trying to lighten Jeremy’s mood.

  “Sounds great.” Ah, my first genuine smile.

  Bo headed out Highway 46 toward Paso until they found the Springtime restaurant that served good omelets and pancakes. It was a favorite of people in the wine country. He parked, and inside the hostess gave them a booth toward the back.

  They settled in, ordered omelets, and then Bo reached in his windbreaker and pulled out his list of notes on their appointments. “I emailed over most of these, but I’ve added a couple of new ones since then.”

  Jeremy glanced up. “I must have missed the email.” He looked over the list carefully. “You’ve got some pretty big targets here. Are we up to it?” He didn’t sound really skeptical, just inquisitive.

  “I think since it’s both of us, we can offer them some serious packages. If they want more, we can always call one of the other small wineries like Yellow Sky or Golden Cellars.”

  “You wouldn’t include Randy or Fernando?”

  “They’re so big, they might try to commandeer the deal. Maybe not even on purpose. Just by the breadth of their offerings. I don’t think they need our help right now.”

  Jeremy nodded and leaned back as the waitress served the meals. She also refilled their coffee, dropped the check, and left, so they both pounced on the food. Jeremy glanced at Bo’s list again. Swallowing and chasing it down with a sip of coffee, he said, “Man, we’re even talking to Strausburg.”