by Gorman, A.
The brothers’ return struck her mute. Isaiah smiled at her, but Shelby stared at the floor. She tried to catch his gaze as he returned to the dining room.
Janis touched her shoulder. “Isaiah, the wine is so good she has no words.” The two remaining Tuppence siblings laughed, none the wiser. “I have pork tenderloin coming up next, followed by a sinful chocolate mousse. You’re going to just die.”
She kind of did feel like dying.
Back amidst the other guests, she welcomed the dry Pinot Noir handed to her and took a sip before spitting. Even though she wasn’t basking in an alcohol buzz, the pleasant flavor of ripe red berries acted as a balm to her ill temper.
When someone put a hand on her lower back, she expected Shelby but turned to find Isaiah, right in her face. He leaned forward until his nose was about six inches from hers and whispered, “After dinner, I thought we could take a walk. Just the two of us.”
After dinner, she planned on hiding in her room forever. “I, um…”
His lips touched her ear when he spoke. “I would love to spend some time alone with you.”
Emily almost toppled forward when Isaiah flew back. The other guests stopped mingling and turned to stare as Shelby pulled Isaiah away, his fist twisted in his big brother’s dress shirt. Once near the foyer, he turned Isaiah around and shoved him in the chest. Isaiah shoved back. It looked like a brawl was about to bust out until Janis rushed into the room in an apron, kitchen towel folded over her arm.
“Hey,” she yelled.
Although the shoving stopped, the brothers continued to glare. Shelby’s warm, brown eyes looked black, and a vein pulsed down the center of his forehead.
“If you’ll forgive my brothers, they have a tendency to act like a pair of goddamn teenagers. Who needs more wine?” Janis picked up two bottles from the loaded dining room table and waved them in the air until Isaiah chuckled and left Shelby standing alone.
He didn’t stand still for long. His gaze landed somewhere near Emily’s feet before he turned around. She felt the slam of the screen door in her chest.
The decision to follow was simple, easy. Emily put her wine glass on a side table as she rushed into the foyer and out into a night that smelled like damp leaves.
“Shelby, wait.” She hurried to catch him, but he had long legs—and he wasn’t wearing platform wedges. She grunted and kicked her shoes off, toes sinking into soft, fertile dirt as she passed vine after vine. “Please, wait!”
He stopped moving about ten feet in front of her and put his hands on his hips. Above them, tiny white stars emerged from a deep purple sky.
“Shelby, it’s—”
He turned around and wrapped an arm around her waist, forcing her up onto her toes. The breath escaped her lungs in a pleased sigh, and then his mouth found hers. She kissed back hard and tangled her fingers in his hair, which was apparently a pressure point of his because he moaned into her mouth and held on even tighter. Pretty soon, her hands were everywhere—on his ass, wrapped around his shoulder blades, and running down his tight abs.
He leaned his forehead against hers and pulled back. “We need to stop.”
“Are you doing this to get a sale?”
“What?” he hissed.
She tried to speak through panting breaths. “I heard you and Isaiah. He asked you to hit on me so I’d get you the distribution deal.”
“I told him no.”
She leaned up and kissed him again. “So why are we doing this right now?”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since you told me I have a nice mouth.”
She ran her thumb over his bottom lip. “You have an amazing mouth. I swear I can taste grapes.”
His fingers trailed down her spine. “Well, I was just drinking wine.”
“No. You taste like grapes. You.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her nose against his. “Like a Washington Syrah.”
“You’re a French rosé.”
She pulled him closer by the lapels on his suit. “How are we going to get to my bed without everyone seeing?”
Shelby laughed. The sound disappeared among the leaves as if the precious plants digested his glee. “I have a spare room in the farmhouse.”
She wrapped him in her arms and basically rubbed her face all over his neck and cheeks until he laughed some more and scooped her up in his arms. “Where are your shoes?”
“I really don’t care.”
With his arms around her shoulders and under her legs, they walked bridal style through the vineyard as the last of the day’s sunlight disappeared.
Emily kissed the side of his face. “I can’t wait to get you naked.”
His walk slowed to a stop, and he gently set her down. His sexy, amused expression was gone, replaced by something …
“Oh my God, what did I say wrong?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and then looked off toward the dark edge of the estate.
“Shelby?”
“I can’t sleep with you tonight.”
She nodded. “Yes, you can.”
He smiled a little at least. “I can’t, Emily. If I do, I don’t know if you’re sleeping with me to get revenge on your boss. You don’t know if I’m sleeping with you to get a sale. And we just met. And I like you.” He shook his head. “We shouldn’t do this tonight.”
Shoulders slumped, she pressed her forehead against the center of his chest. “God, why are you so fucking good?”
His fingertips tickled the edges of her hair. “I’ve never heard that sound like such a bad thing.”
She pulled back and stared up at him. His hair glowed in the light of a rising moon. “I’m not used to hot guys who are also good.”
His brow furrowed. “You think I’m hot?”
“Don’t fish for additional compliments.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it.
“Can we just…” She gestured to the vines. “Walk and talk? Probably make out a little.”
“I wish you had shoes.”
“I wish I had my legs wrapped around you.”
The volume of his surprised laugh made her immediately join in.
She woke alone, tangled in her dress, feet dusty with dirt, in a tiny room at the top of the Tuppence Estates farmhouse. She and Shelby had slept together—really slept. First, they’d spent an hour walking row after row of grape vines. She’d only stepped on three or four sharp rocks before Shelby made her climb onto his back for the rest of the journey.
They’d gone beyond all Isaiah’s machinery and up a small flight of steps in the back of the farmhouse where a tiny room waited, bare of décor but for a few pieces of refurbished furniture and a double bed, complete with a now familiar country-style quilt. They’d spent hours side by side talking and touching but nothing too hot and heavy. When she’d tried climbing on his lap, Shelby had literally jumped out of bed and pointed at her like she was a bad kid in school—which, of course, made her giggle. She’d had to promise to behave before he came back.
She had no clue when they’d fallen asleep, but they’d done so with his arms around her and her head on his chest. He didn’t even snore.
She sat up to the morning sun and wondered why he’d left without waking her. He must have gone away and come back because her shoes waited by the door. He must have brought them for her.
“Shit,” she whispered. She touched her fingers to her lips.
Maybe he’d woken and realized he was being a fool? She lived in California and was in rebound mode. He lived in Ohio and spent more time with grapes than human beings. Maybe he’d woken up and realized they didn’t stand a chance.
Well.
She swung her legs out of bed and pulled on her shoes with no concern for what had to be smeared makeup and bed head. Thankful for the early hour, she ran down the steps and across the empty winery floor out into a morning that foreshadowed rain. Dark clouds already crept around the corners of a blue, blue sky.
Emily considered going back to the bed and breakfast to fin
d him—but she had a funny feeling he wouldn’t be there. She both walked and ran and occasionally scurried through rows of waist-high vines until she finally spotted his glowing, gold head.
“Hey, you!” she shouted. She stomped toward him, arms swinging. Although she was still in a dress, Shelby was back to worn jeans and a tight, gray t-shirt that made her cheeks hot. “Excuse me. Mr. Tuppence.”
“Emily, wh—”
She held her hand out in front of her. “Despite the high quality of your wine, I don’t think Tuppence Estates will be a good fit for Wallace Distribution.”
“Oh.” He frowned down at the pruners in his hand. “You should probably talk to Isaiah about that.”
“I will.” She sighed. “It’s his douchbaggery I might be punishing a bit. And Todd’s. Plus, you don’t need a national distributor. The increased shipping demands will just water down the quality of your product, and it’s perfect the way it is. It’s not like you need the money.”
He cleared his throat. “No.”
“Furthermore, due to the growing success of your winery, I think you could really use a sales director to help with marketing the preservative.” She stood up as tall as she could. “And you should have an apprentice. I nominate myself.”
His head shot up, eyes honey brown in the morning light. “What?”
“I’m a hard worker and a quick learner. I realize I don’t have the agricultural background some other apprentices might, but I have a passion for grapes.” She faltered when he didn’t say anything. “A-and, as you know, I was with Wallace Distribution for over a decade before I decided to quit…this morning. I need to quit. I don’t want to work for a big company anymore, and I kind of made a mistake there.” She paused. “Plus, I like it here. Small town charm. I think Janis and I could be really good friends, and I’d like to lord over Isaiah because he’s a prick.” She blinked so she wouldn’t cry. “Can you say something please?”
He dropped the pruners, eyes on the ground, before taking a few steps toward her. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You want a job here?”
“I always just wanted to grow grapes.”
“Right, but.” He lifted and dropped his shoulders. “That mistake you made while working for Wallace…” He licked his bottom lip. “Aren’t you hesitant to make it again?”
“Oh, I’m not offering you anything but my work ethic.”
He chuckled. “My loss.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m very professional.”
He took a step forward. “What about Myrtle and the girls? Think you can get along with them?”
She took a step forward too. “Some of the vines might have to be boys now.”
He rested his lips against her forehead, and she put her hands on his waist. “Are you sure about this?”
“No. Not really. I could be a shitty farmer honestly, but if I am, I’ll stick to Tuppence sales.” She lifted her head and pointed up at him. “Which you need help with. You’re a terrible representative for the winery. You couldn’t sell an umbrella in the rain. That said, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.”
“You’re willing to give up a fancy job in LA to move to Ohio and work for two brothers who fight all the time?”
She chewed the inside of her lip and considered. “This is a good career move. Your preservative is only going to grow in demand. The estate will only become more popular, but we will have to negotiate my paycheck, and—”
His fingers touched her cheek. “I think you’re just blinded by my hotness.”
She winced. “I never should have fed your ego.”
“I hear I have fantastic eyelashes.”
“Oh my God.” She laughed into his mouth before he kissed her.
He tasted different that morning, like oak barrel notes of vanilla and wood. Emily couldn’t wait to find out how many varietals she would eventually taste on his tongue.
There were calls to make and people to piss off, but first, Emily spent that sunny Ohio morning making out with a good-looking, good man behind a lush line of wine vines. A couple grapes got crushed in the process, but Shelby didn’t even seem to notice.
About the Author
Sara Dobie Bauer is an author, model, and mental health advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. Her short story, “Don’t Ball the Boss,” inspired by her shameless crush on Benedict Cumberbatch, was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film. She is author of the paranormal rom-com Bite Somebody series, among other ridiculously entertaining things. Learn more at http://SaraDobieBauer.com.
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Tomorrow Always Comes
By Elsa Kurt
Chapter 1
ELLA MCKINLEY
The bell above the door of Petal’s Flower Shop jingled, announcing Pablo, the part-time delivery driver. Ella, the owner, had been staring vacantly out the wide flower shop window, lost in a daydream in which a mysterious stranger had her in a tight embrace, his mouth ravishing her—
“Mrs.—I mean Miss McKinley? All the deliveries are done. Is it okay if I leave early? I, uh, I’m gonna see if they need any more extras for the movie. You know, the one they’re filming over at Milton’s Farm?”
Getting no reaction, Pablo cleared his throat and tried again.
“Miss McKinley?”
“What? Oh! Yes, sorry. Of course, Pablo. Just, you know, log the miles and leave the keys in back. And good lu—I mean break a leg!”
Blushing, she looked down at her slender hands. They were cut and scraped from stripping thorns off the latest shipment of roses. Ella sighed and went back to making hand-tied bows for Saturday’s wedding as Pablo finished up.
Pablo, like everyone else in the tiny town of Everwood, was hoping for a chance to be in the latest movie. Everyone except Ella, that was. She thought it was both stupid and annoying to have all these Hollywood jerks milling around.
“But what do I know, right, Petal?”
Petal, her blue-nose rescue Pitbull and the shop’s namesake, snored on from his bed in the corner. He didn’t even pick his head up when the bell chimed over the door for a second time, letting Pablo out and an especially petite blonde in. The woman was the same height as Ella, but where Ella was built lean and strong, she was fragile and bony. She looked around, cornflower blue eyes wide, a delicate hand to chest. It made Ella think of Dorothy stepping into Munchkinland for the first time. However, she did not look awestruck; she looked dismayed.
Ella knew right away she was one of them: a “Hollywood” that kept invading her quiet town with their lattes and convertibles. She was likely coming in from Milton’s Farm.
“Some guard dog you are.”
“Pardon me?”
“Oh no, not you. Can I help you?”
The slightly built blonde looked around the small shop as if confused. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose sardonically. Ella, now on the defensive, waited for her to respond.
“I-I was told that…this was the best flower shop around?”
Ella considered telling her that it was the only flower shop around but instead mimicked her tone.
“Were you, now?”
The porcelain-pretty blonde gave a quick headshake, threw her hands out as if throwing confetti, and shrugged exaggeratedly.
“Is it?” she huffed.
“I tend to think so.”
“Hmm.” She composed herself and glanced around disdainfully again. “Well, it’s smaller than I expected. Do you carry any exotic flowers?”
Ella forced herself to not roll her eyes. Most people, when they asked for exotic flowers, could only name the same three every time: Birds of Paradise, orchids, and calla lilies, but none othe
r.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” This should be good, she thought.
“Well, I’m throwing a Hawaiian-themed birthday party this Sunday.” Then she leaned in and whispered, “On location.”
She pulled back to bask in the awe and adoration to which she was apparently accustomed, but Ella merely slow blinked at her, offering no impression of comprehension. So she leaned in again, this time speaking as one does to a child.
“That means ‘the place where we are filming my movie.’ You do, at least, know where that is, right?”
Ella pretended to ponder for a moment, then nodded as she replied, “Oh, right!”
Now thoroughly put out, the woman continued, “So I was thinking Birds of Paradise, orchids, and do you carry those big palm branches too?”
“Fronds.”
“Pardon?”
“Palm fronds, not branches. Easy mistake. It just so happens that I ordered extra this week.”
“Really? You ordered exotic flowers for…here?”
This woman was really starting to annoy Ella.
“Yes, for here. I have a large wedding tomorrow; they requested a Hawaiian theme. Pretty typical. I have pineapples, too.”
“I see. Well, can you deliver? And, most importantly, can you be discreet?”
Ella furrowed her brow. Discreet? Who does this woman think she is?
“You do know who I am, right?”
Ella blinked at her.
“River. River Ryan!”
Seeing no reaction from Ella, she added, “Academy Award nominee for best supporting actress in a drama?” Ella slow blinked, and the blonde tried again. “The lead in Tomorrow Always Comes?” Still no reaction from Ella. “Oh, for Christ’s sake! The movie being filmed here, in this town, on that Miller’s Farm!”
“It’s Milton’s Farm. Sorry, I don’t watch TV.”
“Movies. Those are movies.”
“Yeah, I don’t go out to the movies much either.”
“Well, then what do you do for entertainment?”