Craving Country

by Gorman, A.

  Janis stared at her for a long moment. “No?”

  Emily opened her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “That was Shelby. I just thought ‘no’ was what you wanted to hear.”

  She pressed her palms against her eye sockets.

  “Did he say something awful? He’s way better with grapes than people.”

  Emily shook her head. “No, it’s not…” She clapped her hands together once in front of her. “Hello, I’m Emily Seymour with Wallace Distribution in LA. I’m a professional, I swear. I’ve just had a very strange day, and I would love to see my room.”

  Janis chuckled, and even though she was a bit older—probably in her mid-forties—her smile was that of an excited child. She picked up the suitcase, put her other hand on Emily’s shoulder, and led her gently toward where Shelby had been standing a moment before. “Look, what’s your favorite varietal?”

  “My favorite Ohio grape? I honestly have no idea.”

  “I’m not offering a Tuppence Estates bottle. You’ll taste our wines tomorrow night at the big to-do. We have a massive wine cellar, though, filled with bottles from all over the world.” She paused to write in the registration book. “You can have anything you want. And I’ll bring dinner up to your room. You don’t have to eat with the other guests.”

  Emily glanced around at the comfy country décor and high ceilings. “Is this Heaven? Did the plane from Los Angeles crash on the way here?”

  Janis laughed out right. “You look like you need some peace and quiet, and Shelby isn’t the best first impression. I’m trying desperately to erase him from your mind.”

  Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Not when he had an ass Emily wanted to grab and hair she wanted to pull. She blinked a couple times—the visual equivalent of shaking an Etch-A-Sketch.

  “Follow me upstairs. I gave you the fancy room.” Janis wove her long, brown hair into a messy bun on top of her head before walking. “So what kind of wine do you want and where from?”

  Emily’s body creaked and groaned as she went up the steps, both from the flight and lack of a workout. She usually ran every day, but in his rush to get her the hell away from him, Todd hadn’t given her the chance. At least she hadn’t been fired—yet. “This is so random, but do you have any Gewurztraminer from Alsace?”

  “Uh, that is random. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised, though. I’ll ask Isaiah after I show you to your room. He’s king of the wine cellar.”

  The hardwood steps creaked beneath them with the auditory charm of an old, old house. Emily knew from her research that the Tuppence vineyard had been in the family for generations, but the brothers had put it on the map, thanks to Shelby.

  He was indeed an organic grape farmer, but he also held a chemistry degree, which was how he’d managed to invent a preservative that could be added to organic wines without affecting the taste. Working for a national distributor, Emily generally avoided organic wines because they had no shelf life. Shelby Tuppence had changed all that—changed the industry, really.

  Isaiah Tuppence was the winemaker. He took his brother’s grapes and made them magic. Their estate had so far won several national competitions, but to really hit the big time, they needed a distributor, which was why Emily was there, to be impressed and report back to Todd.

  She ground her teeth at the thought of him.

  “Here we are.” Janis swung open a heavy wooden door, painted white.

  The inside, although charming, was a bit too “Midwestern farmhouse” for Emily’s tastes—but she supposed that was kind of the point.

  Janis studied her. “You hate it, don’t you?”

  “No! No. It’s, it’s, um.” She suspiciously eyed the patchwork quilt on the queen-sized bed. “It’s cozy.”

  Janis put her hands on her hips. “You are so LA.”

  Emily ducked her head. “I’m usually a lot better at this.”

  “Rough day?”

  “Rough week.” Emily nodded up at the friendly Tuppence sister who was just as tall as her little brother. Emily wasn’t short, so it was unfamiliar to feel so little—although she did find the strength to refrain from asking the older woman for a hug.

  “Well, I’m going to get your bottle of wine. You don’t have any dietary restrictions, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Ah, so not completely LA.”

  Emily smiled, but it hurt a little. “You’ve been to California?”

  “Honey, I’m the eldest child in a wine family.” She winked. “I’ve been everywhere.”

  Taking advantage of her few minutes of privacy, Emily went to the bathroom with her toiletry bag and brushed her long, red hair. She checked her eyes for makeup boogers and thankfully found none, although her myriad freckles looked even darker in the dim overhead light.

  The bathroom smelled like dried flowers, which would have been fine if there had been dried flowers in the bathroom. There weren’t. The whole room smelled kind of grandma-like. The bed was comfy, though. Emily put her butt on the edge and bounced.

  She pulled out her computer and sat at an antique wooden desk in the corner by the window. The chair made a sound like a sick bird when she sat in it, but it seemed sturdy enough. She stared out the window at rows upon rows of grape vines. The sky beyond was a shade of blue she’d never seen in Los Angeles. She dubbed it “Ohio Blue” and realized it matched her eyes.

  Of course the wireless wasn’t locked with a security code. Of course it wasn’t, wedged in the center of Hicksville, USA, as she was. She went to the Tuppence Estates website and scanned. There it was, the “About” tab, and there was Shelby—and Isaiah.

  Great, they were both awesome-looking. Whereas Shelby was buff and of-the-earth, Isaiah was tall and pretty with cheekbones and a nice suit. Whereas Shelby was blond, Isaiah had dark hair like Janis, but they all had the same eyes: milk chocolate brown.

  Emily buried her head in her hands and cussed. How had she not noticed the Tuppence brothers were sploosh-worthy? Oh, right, because she’d spent the past few months entranced by Todd and his successful, older man vibes. Now, she was trapped on a business trip, surrounded by her greatest weakness. At least Shelby wasn’t a charmer. Maybe Isaiah would be a grouch too, which would nullify that edible bone structure.

  She closed her computer following a knock on the door. “Come in.”

  A head of short, brown hair poked around her doorframe. “Ms. Seymour.”

  “Emily, please.” She stood, and Isaiah Tuppence waltzed in like he owned the place. Well, he sort of did. In his hand, he held a sparkling crystal wine glass and a green wine bottle. She had but a moment to see the letters G-E-W-U-R.

  “I’m Isaiah.” He extended a perfectly manicured hand, along with a huge grin. Not a grouch then—and about two shades paler than his little brother. Actually, she assumed there was nothing “little” about Shelby.

  “Great to meet you.” She did her best to smile back.

  “Janis said you had a long day of travel, so…” He swung the bottle of wine toward her, and she held it by the base.

  “Perfect,” she sighed: an Alsatian Gewurztraminer, just what the vintner ordered. “I’m looking forward to tasting your wines, of course.” Good girl. She congratulated herself on actually sounding like a coherent adult.

  “You’re going to love them. But for now…” He walked past her and leaned the bottle on the desk before pulling a wine key from his back pocket and going to work. He handed her a chilled, healthy pour of yellow-gold. “I say you drink the whole bottle and cozy up in bed.” He winked. “Janis is bringing you dinner in a little while. I’m not sure what she’s making yet, but I’m sure it’ll be delicious. Make yourself at home here. It’s our pleasure to have you.”

  Emily nodded and wondered what kind of product he used to keep his hair so shiny. He looked like he shaved with a straight razor, and he smelled like—nothing. Guys who looked like Isaiah usually wore cologne, in Emily’s experience, but as a winemaker, cologne would ruin his nose.


  “Get a good night’s rest.” He reached out and touched her elbow. “Big day tomorrow. Janis is taking you to the Jamboree, and we’ll wow the hell out of you tomorrow night. Okay?”

  “Yeah. Great. Thank you.” She took a huge slurp of wine and was rewarded with the heady, floral notes of lychee.

  “I’ll leave you to it.” He smiled again but finally left.

  Emily slumped back on the edge of her bed. She texted Todd to tell him she’d arrived safely, but he didn’t respond.

  The next morning, she did get to go on her customary run. Thank goodness she’d had the presence of mind to bring her running shoes, because she’d woken with a sore neck and jaw. She’d stopped grinding her teeth years before, but apparently sleeping with and eventually breaking up with your boss was a substantive Zen eraser.

  Unlike the cool, foggy mornings of LA, the air in Ohio was muggy by nine. She felt as though she sucked water into her lungs as she jogged down a path behind the bed and breakfast. She did see Shelby from a distance, standing in the middle of a row of what appeared to be Chardonnay vines. He chatted with a couple short guys in hats, although Shelby himself kept his head bare—which would explain the bright golden quality of his hair as well as the tan face.

  He glanced at her as she ran. Then he stared at her. She lifted her hand in friendly greeting, and he raised his but didn’t smile. She ran faster.

  After a shower and breakfast, Emily hopped into Janis’s car, and the eldest Tuppence sibling drove her to downtown Geneva. They didn’t have trouble with parking because they were there “early,” as Janis said. Yeah, real early, considering Emily’s jetlag. The morning run and two cups of Joe had just barely helped shake the zombie fog of differing time zones.

  Downtown Geneva was like nothing Emily had ever seen while walking the streets of Los Angeles. Geneva was cute and sort of honky—maybe a little trashy even. There were mom and pop shops everywhere, including a dark, dirty window display out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre that promised “Live Bait.”

  The whole main drag was closed to cars but covered in vendors, selling everything from grape jam to grape body wash to funnel cakes and fries. Wine fests out west weren’t like this, mixtures of culture and carnival.

  “Um…” Emily glared at a man dressed as a bunch of grapes.

  Janis snorted. “We’re very into our wine around here.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Want a drink?” Janis lifted and lowered her eyebrows, very Groucho Marx.

  The wine tasting was tucked inside an old building, down the block and around a corner, practically hidden from the masses in a huge room with a stage at the end.

  Janis nudged her with an elbow. “Don’t laugh, but we have square dancing here.”

  Emily laughed.

  “I told you not to laugh!”

  “I’m sorry. This is just…” She paused when two elderly women walked by wearing huge hats covered in plastic grapes. “A lot.”

  “Let’s get some good Ohio wine in you.” She leaned close and whispered, “When I say ‘good,’ I mean passable.” She nodded and smiled to a white-haired woman who handed her two wine glasses filled with orange tickets.

  Emily followed Janis into the hall. “Wait, you don’t like Ohio wine?”

  Janis handed Emily one of the glasses and kept whispering, even over the sound of country music playing on a radio onstage. “No, I don’t like Ohio wine. I like Tuppence wine. I just drink this shit fast until it starts tasting good.”

  “I usually spit.”

  “Not today, Ms. Seymour. You’re going to get drunk and tell me all the dirt on your company before I let my brothers work with you.”

  Emily did as instructed. She crushed two glasses of too-sweet red blend while sitting at a plastic folding table with Janis—who spent most of her time smiling and waving at people.

  “Do you know everyone in town?”

  “Yeah.” Janis smiled and waved. “It’s awful.” She smiled some more.

  Emily swirled her empty wine glass on the table. “Single?”

  “We need more wine.” Within about thirty seconds, Janis was back with two glasses of red. “Petit Syrah this time. Yes, I’m single. I’m beginning to think the only eligible bachelor in northwest Ohio is Isaiah.”

  “Not Shelby?”

  “Shelby.” She rolled those brown Tuppence eyes. “He just got divorced last year.”

  Emily almost choked on her dusty Syrah. “He was married?”

  “Shocking, I know. He was married for three years.” She gave her brown ponytail a tug that made it ride higher on her head. “I liked his wife, but she said he loved the grapes more than her—which was probably true. He’s a bit of a workaholic. Both my brothers are.”

  “My boyfriend just broke up with me because I answered a sales call during sex.”

  Janis laughed so hard she got attention from the chubby, bearded wine seller across the hall. “Oh my God, was the sex that bad?”

  Emily shushed her. “No, it was…” She finished her third glass. “It was just me. I always mess things up. Or maybe I set myself up to fail. I have a weakness for powerful, good-looking men, but most of them turn out to be narcissists.”

  “Well, in that case, stay away from Isaiah.” Whereas Emily’s glass was empty, Janis had barely touched hers. She took a dainty sip.

  “Bad guy?” Emily asked.

  “No.” She wrinkled her nose. “Definitely a playboy, a bit of a narcissist, but a damn good winemaker. And that’s the thing about Shelby, you know, he’s kind of an idiot around people, but he is a genius. Isaiah wouldn’t be anything without Shelby’s grapes. And that organic preservative he invented, God…”

  Emily rested her head against her hand. The harsh overhead lighting didn’t seem so yellow anymore as she tapped her toe to country music. “I assume you’ve got wineries calling from around the world.”

  Janis nodded. “You should see the company bank account.” She paused. “Whoa, forget I said that. What’s in this wine?”

  “My thoughts exactly.” She held up her empty glass. “Can we have more?”

  By the time it occurred to Emily that she should maybe slow down, it was too late. At wine tastings, she always made it a practice to spit, which probably explained her level of inebriation upon their return to the estate. Over the course of the late morning and early afternoon, she’d spit nothing but venom toward Todd.

  Janis declared she would be taking a nap before starting dinner preparations, but Emily made her way to the kitchen. The way was slow, considering there appeared to be two of everything—Shelby Tuppence included.

  “Oh.” She stood in the kitchen doorframe, hands on either side for balance, and frowned at the man in front of her. “You. Fan-fucking-tastic. Do you have any cheese and crackers?”

  He stared at her from his seat at the butcher-block kitchen island. “What happened to you?”

  “The Jamboree.” She moved her hand in a circle and made a clicking sound with her tongue. “I don’t think Ohio wines are that bad, but maybe the high residu…resid…that’s a hard word. Res-i-du-al sugar was high, so maybe it’s in my brain.”

  He laughed once, quickly, before covering his mouth with his hand.

  “You have a nice mouth.” She stepped over the threshold. “Too bad you’re mean.”

  She wasn’t so drunk that she missed the sad look on his face. He pushed the bar stool out from behind him and stood, moving quickly for the fridge. “What kind of cheese do you like?”

  Emily slumped onto his abandoned seat. “Any kind. And crackers! I need to soak up the alcohol.”

  “Did Janis drive you into Geneva?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Sleeping. She needed a nap. But I…” She pointed to herself. “Needed cheese and crackers. Did you know wine and cheese go well together?”

  “I did.” He stood there, frozen, a block of what looked like white cheddar in his hand. “I’m sorry
about yesterday, but I’m not mean. I’m just not very good with people.”

  “No, you are good with grapes.” She nodded as if she’d just come to some until-then-unknown conclusion and watched him hurry to the pantry as he unwrapped the cheese.

  Shelby looked much as he had the day before in dirt-covered jeans and another slim fitting, worn button-down—plaid, that day, in shades of light blue that should have matched his eyes but didn’t since his eyes were dark brown. It was equal parts unnerving and attractive, the way his dark eyes were in direct contrast to his light, bright hair. And her earlier drunken confession was accurate: he did have a nice mouth with a full bottom lip that would have been perfect for sucking.

  In front of her, he placed a small cutting board, complete with a big block of cheese and water crackers. She grabbed the little knife from his hand and went to work while he lingered, standing, across from her.

  “I usually spit, you see, which you’re supposed to do at wine tastings. This immaturity here.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “This is newbie shit, and I’m not a newbie. I’m thirty-four. Thirty-four.” She groaned and shoved some cheese and cracker into her mouth. “It’s your sister’s fault. Janis wanted to get me drunk so I would tell her all the dirty secrets about Wallace Distribution, but—”

  “I don’t know that you want to be talking to me right now. Should I leave?” He took a backward step toward the door.

  “No, stay. No, you’re so cute, you have to stay.”

  He grinned and turned the shade of, well, red wine.

  “Oh, you smiled again. You’ve smiled twice today. That’s good.” The cheese was definitely aged and salty and perfect.

  Shelby rushed toward the sink. “Water. You need water.”

  “So there’s nothing really bad about Wallace Distribution, except maybe Todd.” She put her head in her hands and moaned. “Oh my God, Todd. Todd is my ex-boyfriend. He wasn’t really my boyfriend. He’s my boss, but we were sleeping together, and I messed it up. Just like you messed up your marriage, I guess. All work and no play…”