by Gorman, A.
He handed her a glass of water and blinked—a lot.
“Look at those eyelashes.” Emily sat up on her knees on the bar stool, and he hurried around the counter to steady her with his hands on her upper arms. Up close, he carried that smell again, of clean earth and yummy sweat. She grabbed his face. “You have amazing eyelashes. Look at them!”
“Ms. Seymour, I should really give you some time to sober up.”
“I have a secret,” she said. “I don’t even want to be in sales. I always wanted to work with the grapes—like you. But California is so competitive. Everyone had degrees, but I didn’t because I couldn’t afford college.” She let go of his face and slumped back down into her seat for more cheese. “See, my dad, well, he left, and then my mom was on drugs, and I left when I was sixteen. So sales it was. And I am good at it, just not today. Today, I am drunk.” She chuckled, although nothing was particularly funny.
Shelby rested his hands on the island next to her. “My parents died when I was eighteen.”
She spoke around a mouthful of crackers. “They did?”
He nodded, and some of his hair fell into his eyes.
“How?”
“The old clichéd car accident. Spun out during a blizzard.”
“Shit.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve had some time to adjust. After all, I’m older than you.”
“Maybe, but you’re still the baby brother.”
He leaned his elbows on the island and smiled. “Don’t remind me.”
“You don’t like it?”
He chewed one of his dirty fingernails. “People tend to forget since I act more mature than both my siblings.”
She nibbled on a cracker. “You do seem older.”
“Possibly because I’m the only one who found time to get married and mess things up?”
“I didn’t mean to say that. I shouldn’t have said that. I just…you love your grapes, and your ex-wife didn’t like that. But maybe what she didn’t understand was…” She closed her eyes and tried to phrase things right. “Maybe if you met the right girl, you would love her as much as your grapes.”
He stared at her with those eyes that were so very Tuppence, but then, Emily noticed maybe they were different. Janis’s weren’t gold in the center, and Isaiah’s didn’t make her ears buzz.
He tapped her hand. “You didn’t drink your water.”
“Oops.” She took a long gulp. “You’re right. You’re not really mean at all.”
With the tip of his finger, he drew invisible lines on the island. “No, but I am socially inept—at least in big groups. I’m all right one on one. But tonight, I have to help host a dinner to entertain some fancy wine saleswoman from California.”
She chuckled. “The good news is I find you to be very entertaining.”
Hunched over the island, he looked up at her through those long lashes she so admired. “Do you want a vineyard tour? I’m sure Isaiah will give you a winery tour tonight, but I can introduce you to my grapes.”
“I bet you talk to them like old friends, don’t you?”
“Only when no one’s looking.”
When she stood, the room didn’t tilt. The cheese, crackers, and water—and probably the company—had made her a bit less hammered. She would yell at Janis later. For the moment, she allowed herself to be led outside, down the big front steps, and out into a warm, sunny afternoon.
She looked up at him when he stopped walking. Shelby stared at the sky. “Give me one second,” he said and ran back inside. A moment later, he came back with a big straw hat. Without asking, he plopped it on her head.
“Wh…”
“You’re a ginger with freckles. You shouldn’t be out in the sun.”
She fake-gasped. “Ginger? I didn’t think we used that word in civilized company.”
He smirked. “Redhead then.”
Over the sound of his boots and her sandals flap-flapping, she looked up at his tan face. “You’re the one who should be wearing a hat. Out here all day in the sun, you’re going to have a million wrinkles.”
He looked toward a particularly lush row of what she recognized as Cabernet grapes. “I wear a hat all spring and summer. September is in-between time, right before the leaves start to change. Have you ever been in the Midwest in autumn?”
She groaned. “No, but I bet you want to tell me about the foliage.”
He laughed, and her body temperature must have spiked to about one-fifteen. “The vines change color. It’s like, one night, some fall fairy shows up and paints everything. You wake up and the world is different.”
“How are you single?” she shouted.
He stopped walking. “I’m sorry?”
So maybe there was still a lot of alcohol in her system. “You! How is someone like you single? You’re gorgeous, and you say these poetic things, and you give girls water. Plus, you’re probably richer than God. How are women not crawling all over you?”
“I, well…” He looked away from her, dark eyes darting from vine to vine. “I don’t talk to everyone like this.”
“Right, just important saleswomen from California.”
He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “Look, if anyone’s gorgeous around here, it’s you.”
Her mouth fell open, and a moment later, she tugged the front of her straw hat down over her face to hide the infamous redhead blush. “Oh my God,” she mumbled. “Tell me about grapes.”
“Yes, please. Jesus…”
She lifted the brim of her hat as he waved toward a thriving bunch of bright green leaves. “This is Myrtle.” He snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes.
“You. Name. Them?”
He sighed. “Only the old girls.”
“They’re girls?”
“Of course they’re girls. My hands are all over—” He shook his head and tried to swallow a smile.
He failed miserably when Emily giggled. They were both bent over laughing when Isaiah reached them. She hadn’t even heard his approach, thanks to his shiny wingtip shoes.
“What’s going on out here?” he asked, showcasing all his dental perfection.
Shelby immediately sobered up. Emily wished she could say the same. “Nothing,” he said. “Just showing Ms. Seymour the vines.”
She shoved him in the shoulder. “Would you call me Emily, please?” Her laughter tapered off when she noticed the brothers staring at each other. They appeared to be having a silent conversation with nothing but eyes and eyebrows.
“Janis sent me out to check on you,” Isaiah said. Unlike his little brother, he looked ready for that night’s dinner party, already decked out in black dress pants and a white collared shirt. When a brisk wind blew, his dark hair didn’t move. “Big sis says she might have gotten you drunk.”
“Well, Shelby is being a wonderful host.”
Isaiah tilted his head. “Really?”
Shelby cleared his throat. “I better get back to work.”
“But it’s Saturday.” She pointed to the sky even though it wasn’t remotely a calendar.
“The vines don’t rest. Ms. Seymour.” He nodded to her before walking in the direction of a big, old, red barn at the back of the property.
“Huh.” She watched him go—especially his ass.
Isaiah extended his arm. “May I escort you back to the house?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” She flapped her arm over his. “What time is the dinner tonight?”
“Appetizers and wine start at six, but I thought I could give you a tour of the winery around five-thirty. How does that sound?”
She yawned. “Okay. Gives me time to nap. And sober up. Actually, can I get a cup of coffee at, like, four?”
He guided her up the front steps, across the porch, and into the bed and breakfast foyer where she heard the excited voices of other guests coming from somewhere down the hall. “I’ll have a mug sent to your room. Cream and sugar?”
“No, black.”
&nb
sp; “Just like Shelby.” He let go of her arm. His dark eyes crinkled when he smiled, but laugh lines seemed to be his only wrinkles—and he wouldn’t have to worry about sun damage, pale as he was. She imagined him curled over wine vats in a cellar someplace, sleeves rolled up and hands stained purple.
“Yeah.” She chuckled. “Just like Shelby.” She walked like a just-spun top up the steps to her room.
When Emily woke from her nap, she also woke to a headache, nausea, and mortification. She buried her face in a soft cotton pillow and moaned. Had she actually fawned over Shelby’s eyelashes? God.
Luckily, her coffee showed up right on time, along with an envelope. On the outside was a small note:
“Take with lots of water. Shelby.”
Two little brown pills tumbled into her hand. When she smelled them, she recognized the scent of ginger. She knew ginger was good for digestion, but she wasn’t sure what ginger had to do with a mid-day hangover. She took the pills anyway and sipped dark black coffee while checking her email.
Even though Todd hadn’t answered her text, he had sent her an email, reiterating how much he wanted to sign Tuppence Estates and how important it all was and how money-money-blah-blah…She closed her computer but didn’t feel the recent anger or regret over her emotional debacle with her boss. She felt relaxed, actually.
She took a long, cold shower and washed away any last remnants of booze brain. The caffeine was helping, as were the ginger pills apparently. Her nausea was gone, and her headache was nothing but a weak throb that would probably be gone by dinner.
She pulled on a business casual dress, black with white stripes that wrapped below her waist. The dress showed off her muscular legs, especially when she slipped into a pair of four-inch black wedges. Despite her expectations, the humidity actually complemented her long, red hair, warping it into unfamiliar curls. She finger-combed it and checked the time.
Five-fifteen: time to get the grand tour—although she already felt she had. After all, she’d met Myrtle.
Isaiah was just as charming and intelligent as one might expect a master winemaker to be. The back barn on the property wasn’t really a barn; it was a miracle of modernity, completely redone inside to suit the needs of a growing organic winery. Every surface glimmered, as did Isaiah, as he explained his process and introduced her to several of his assistants flitting about. Shelby was noticeably absent, so Isaiah explained his little brother’s famed preservation system without him.
Emily paused by a huge, silver vat. “So Shelby went to school for chemistry, right?”
“His Master’s degree.” Isaiah ran his hand through his perfect hair. Even after messing with it, it still looked photoshoot ready. “His undergrad was agriculture. He does love to show me up.”
“How so?”
“Well, I only have the one degree in viticulture. I spent four years out in California for that, actually. Your neck of the woods.” He kept walking. His fancy shoes tapped on the finished cement floor.
“Did you like it out west?”
“Janis and I did, but Shelby, not so much. He’s very small town.” The way his mouth curled, it sounded like an affront. “What do you think of our little burg, by the way?”
She brushed some loose hairs from her forehead. “It’s…” She chuckled. “It’s strange, but when I first got here, I was a little freaked by all the smiling and country décor. Country music.” She thought of the guy dressed as a grape bunch from that morning. “Now, it feels comfortable.”
“Hmm.” She must have said something right, because Isaiah smiled.
He led her back inside where other guests milled around the foyer. He went off to check on Janis and left Emily alone—although she wasn’t alone for long. A middle-aged couple in matching purple collar shirts swooped in and attacked with small talk until she made up some excuse about the restroom.
She backed into a hallway by the steps and bumped into someone. When she turned, she found Shelby, frowning into a mirror.
“Hey,” she said.
He sighed, ducked his head, and glared at her.
“You’re…” She pointed.
“I look ridiculous.”
She cleared her throat. “Um…that is not the word I would…no.” The sight of Shelby in a tailored suit erased all her words. If she’d found him sexy in jeans and a ratty shirt, covered in dirt, he was damn near dangerous dolled up. Every bit of navy blue fabric tugged and pulled over his broad shoulders, slim torso, and—she chewed her bottom lip—that muscular ass. “Shelby, you look…” She laughed. “I can’t even talk to you right now except to say thanks for the ginger pills.”
“Ginger for a ginger.”
She poked him in the arm.
“It’s my super-secret hangover cure. Works wonders.” He tugged on his collar. “I hate wearing clothes like this. Reminds me of my wedding.”
“Bad memory?”
“It is now.” He looked back in the mirror. “Should I have worn a tie?”
Emily stared at the little V where neck met chest. “Nope.”
He adjusted his suit coat.
She grabbed his wrists and stepped in front of him. “Stop messing. You look perfect. Except…” She reached up and ran the tips of her fingers through the front of his hair. Up close, he didn’t carry his usual dirty farmer scent but something clean and spicy like sandalwood. They were almost the same height with her in heels. “There,” she said.
“You look very nice,” he whispered.
“I clean up all right when I’m not drunk.” She shrugged. “Sorry about this afternoon.”
His fingers brushed the back of her hand. “I had a really good time this afternoon.”
“Me too.” Her body weaved toward him as if drawn by an invisible string.
His gaze moved to her mouth. “Emily, I—”
“All right, everyone, we’re ready to get started,” Janis yelled so everyone could hear. Of course she didn’t look hungover. She probably trained for day drinking. She gestured excitedly at Emily, so she left Shelby standing there and allowed herself to be dragged into a formal dining room that glowed gold with candles and twinkle lights.
Isaiah’s eyebrows lifted as she approached. “Did I mention you look stunning?” He winked and handed her a glass of white wine. Condensation climbed the sides like vines.
“Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder to find Shelby hiding in the hallway.
“Everyone!” Isaiah’s voice overtook the gentle murmurings of other guests. “This evening, we have a special guest in our midst: Ms. Emily Seymour. She’s here from California to have the full Tuppence experience.”
And why did that feel like a dig?
“With any luck, we’ll have secured national distribution by tomorrow!”
The whispers increased to happy voices and scattered applause.
“We begin this evening with an organic dry Riesling—the grapes thanks to my little brother, Shelby.” Isaiah lifted his glass in a toast, even though Shelby ignored the praise and actually looked poised to run into the night.
Emily found comfort in wine, as she had most of her adult life. She sipped and swished the wine around her mouth before spitting into a nearby black container. Then, she sighed, because of course the wine was everything she looked for in a dry Riesling with gentle notes of lime, apricot, and jasmine. She could have kissed the Tuppence brothers. With a start, she realized she did literally want to kiss Shelby…a lot…for hours, possibly. She didn’t spit her second sip.
Like a wine tour guide, Isaiah led them up the scale of white to red, avoiding sweet wines. Evidently, Janis had given him the inside scoop from that morning: Emily hated most sweet wines. For her part, Janis brought out huge platters of food with every fresh glass, each more delicious than the last. If the brothers were artists with wine, Janis was some kind of wizard in the kitchen.
Shelby never said a word. He occasionally partook in a glass of wine, but he mostly kept to himself unless directly engaged in con
versation. Emily watched him a couple times, cornered by curious tourists. Every time, his forehead would wrinkle. His golden-brown eyes would dart, and he’d look to the window as though considering the consequences of a dive through glass.
Prior to the Cabernet course, Emily spent a couple minutes hiding in the restroom considering her own consequences.
There was something happening between her and Shelby—but what? What did she want from him? What did he want from her? Was he even interested, or was she projecting? She sighed, happy to at least have her wits back. Drinking wine was fun, but spitting wine kept her from getting grabby with handsome men in kitchens.
In the hallway, she overheard voices coming from a dimly lit room off the main foyer. Shelby and Isaiah seemed to be in the midst of an argument. She planned to respect their privacy…until she heard her name.
“It’s not like I’m asking you to do something awful,” Isaiah said. “She can’t stop staring at you, and you’re obviously attracted to her.”
“How would you know?”
“Come on, I saw you laughing with her by Myrtle today. I haven’t seen you laugh like that in years.”
Shelby didn’t say anything.
“Just seduce her. Take her to bed. And do a thorough job.” Isaiah chuckled. “She’ll be so gone on you by morning, we’ll have national distribution in no time.”
“Why do we even need national distribution, Isaiah? Thanks to the preservative, we have more money than we’ll ever know what to do with. Isn’t that enough?”
She heard the movement of fabric and pictured Isaiah grabbing his brother by the shoulders. “I want our name in lights, little bro. Fame. Immortality. Margaux. Latour…Tuppence.”
“We’re not French.”
Isaiah laughed. “So what do you say?”
Emily didn’t await his response—and she certainly didn’t feel all the blood rushing to her face in rage. Maybe she could just hide upstairs, but before she even approached the steps, Janis grabbed her arm and tugged her back into the dining room.
She grinned. “What’s your favorite wine so far?”
Emily itched at her neck and hoped she didn’t look as blotchy as she felt.