“Sure thing.”
Piper turned back around to discover that Hiromi had popped off the counter to sidle back up to Ward. Apparently the two second loss of eye contact meant loss of all contact.
“Tell me, Mr. Cantrell—may I call you Ward?” he simpered.
Ward shot Piper a look. A look that was equal parts do you believe this guy and get me out of this. “Only if you actually want me to answer you.”
Another peal of giggles. Which sounded stranger and stranger every time they burst out of the man. “Ward it is, then. Tell me, Ward, how does distilling the vodka from grapes instead of potatoes change the flavor profile?”
“Grapes add a great deal of depth. And a hint of flavor that’ll hook you from the first sip.”
“I look forward to testing that assertion. Do you grow all the grapes yourself?”
“No. I’m no farmer,” he said brusquely. Ouch. Piper knew what a sore spot that was.
His father had fancied himself a farmer for decades, while never successfully farming anything. When Ward came back and discovered his father left him the farm—along with the pile of debts—Ward had cursed for about three days straight. Made lists of everything he’d rather do than take up the helm of the family farm. The list was wide-ranging, including being a mortician, an exterminator and an airport runway paint striper. Piper thought he just listed every episode of Dirty Jobs he could remember. But he’d made his point. Other people could roll the dice and farm on his land—but he never would.
Again, Piper was caught. Ward’s abrupt statement was a conversation squasher. Hiromi squinted in confusion. It would be easy to let the distillery discussion remain fizzled. But she couldn’t let Ward shut down Hiromi like that. She couldn’t let him squander the opportunity to get his plug in an international magazine. Even if it meant relinquishing the spotlight for a few more minutes.
So she prodded him back on course. “How do you get the grapes, Ward?”
He frowned at her. She lifted her eyebrows meaningfully. His frown deepened. Piper gave a split-second side glance in Hiromi’s direction. “Ah.” Geez, she practically had to write him cue cards. “Uh, when I started the distillery, I needed to get it up and running quickly. No time to plant all my own vines and wait years for the fruit to produce. Other farmers provide the grapes, the berries, all the fruit. Everything is one hundred percent local to the Finger Lakes.”
“I applaud your commitment to sourcing locally. It’s smart long-term, as well as being a white-hot trend right now.”
“That’s me,” Ward said dryly. “Big time trend-follower.”
Another rapturous peal of giggles. Wow. Watching this guy flirt with her boyfriend should be laughable. Instead, Piper felt a white-hot spurt of jealousy. Ridiculous. He’d get nowhere with Ward, except for maybe a look of quizzical pity once Ward figured out what was going on. But even knowing Hiromi didn’t stand a chance, it bugged her. Which was beyond ridiculous.
“I should be getting back now. I’ve got barrels of rye to turn, and I’ll need to ride herd on the newbies coming in to help with the labeling.” Ward gave a nod to each of them as Piper took the glass of wine and held it out to Hiromi.
He ignored it completely. “You’re going to the distillery now? I’d love to come with you. Tour the whole facility.”
“We don’t give tours.”
“To tourists, no. But for the man who’s going to give you a full-page feature in the December issue of WWLL, surely you’ll make an exception?”
The glass almost slid right out from Piper’s fingers. Probably because her entire body went numb. The utterly annoying little man wasn’t just ignoring her wine—he was ignoring her. He was ignoring the whole motivation behind his trip to Seneca Lake. He was ignoring the full-page feature he’d promised to her and Morrissey Vineyards. He was business-cheating on her with her best friend. With her boyfriend.
Ward palmed the back of his neck. He looked way more uncomfortable than pleased. As if Hiromi had offered him the feature in return for Ward scrubbing toilets for a month. “You’re what now?”
“We do a gift guide for December—ten must-haves that will please everyone from a true connoisseur to your Secret Santa. It’s been set for months. We go to print in just a few weeks. But one of our recommended libations just closed up shop.” He winked and put a finger alongside his nose. “Or rather, the INS and IRS did it for them in a one-two punch, when their use of undocumented aliens combined with lack of paying any taxes came to light. Everyone’s been scrambling to find a replacement. From what I can tell, Lakeside Distillery is exactly what we’ve all been looking for.”
Ward froze. Swung his head to look at Piper, then back at Hiromi. “That, uh, that’d be great.”
“Great?” More giggles. “It will be game-changing. You’ll need to start planning and packaging extra now, because our magazine will move your bottles off your shelves like nothing you’ve experienced before.”
Uh-huh. Exactly what Piper had been envisioning. For her business.
“You might want to taste the stuff first, before you go pimping it out to the entire world,” Ward said, his chin stubble rasping loudly against his hand.
“You read my mind.” Hiromi buttoned his jacket and started for the door.
Piper had a fifty/fifty chance of sounding either whiny or pushy. She’d never forgive herself if she let him just walk out without saying something, though. And Ward sure didn’t appear to be stepping up to say something on her behalf.
“Hiromi, what about the feature on Morrissey Vineyards?”
“You’re a good story, personally. But your wine itself isn’t extraordinary enough in and of itself to make it into the gift guide. So I’ll need to spend all my time today with your neighbor.” As he ushered Ward out the door, he called over his shoulder. “Someone will be in touch with you about rescheduling in a few months, I’m sure.”
A few months? She’d have to tell her father today that the feature had been pushed back indefinitely. She’d have to find some way to explain that Ward Cantrell was evidently more interesting and noteworthy than Patrick Morrissey’s own daughter. Cobble together some barely believable—because she could barely believe it herself—explanation why a well-established, award-winning winery that epitomized all that was noteworthy about Finger Lakes wine was being passed over in favor of a brand-new business that upended everything iconic about the Finger Lakes grapes and stood them on their ear.
It wasn’t just her father, either. Everyone who worked out at the vineyards and in here at the winery knew about the feature. They’d all been put on alert for Hiromi’s visit. Word would spread like wildfire. The whole town would learn that she’d been held up next to Ward and found lacking. She’d be a laughingstock. Or worse, ignored. Just like back in high school, when she’d been eclipsed by Ward’s shining stardom. When she’d happily stood in his shadow and soaked up his reflected glory. Except that now, that wasn’t nearly enough. She wanted to earn and grab her own glory.
“Should I clear his wine?” Jeffrey asked.
“I’ll take care of it.” Piper lifted the glass to her lips and chugged the entire thing.
Chapter Eleven
Ward carried two cases of whiskey from the flatbed of his truck over to his red-awninged stand. The cool morning air made him wish he’d thrown a sweatshirt over his Lakeside Distillery tee. It was a sharp reminder that fall officially kicked off in ten hours. Not that the town waited for it to be official.
No, the Seneca Lake Fall Harvest Festival kicked off its festivities in less than an hour. The park buzzed with vendors rushing through setup. Game booths clanged and dinged as they were tested. Glasses clinked more continuously than crickets on a hot summer night as close to thirty wineries set out their wares. And the smell of hickory chips came from the already blazing giant barbecue smokers.
Plus, he’d get to talk about the work he loved. Teach people about what made each liquor unique. Encourage them to leave their comfort zone of beer and experience the complexity in a hand-crafted gin. Point out that the same buttery oakiness in the chardonnay they loved existed in his cask-aged whiskeys. Yeah, it’d be a good day.
As he made the fourth circle back to his truck, Casey and Zane tromped across the high grass toward him. Casey wore one of his Lakeside Distillery shirts. Adorably, with her blond hair in two long braids. She looked like a million bucks, and he’d probably move twice as much product with her helping to serve.
Ward loped to meet them. He picked Casey up and twirled her around in a circle until she squealed. “The St. Pauli Girl’s got nothing on you. Thanks for putting your sexy on this morning to help sell my booze on your day off.”
“What are friends for? You know I love pushing your stuff. The park will be mostly empty today, anyway. Everyone and their dog will be here at the festival.”
He set Casey down and clapped Zane on the arm. “You planning to sample a bunch of wine, Professor? Eat your body weight in barbecue?”
“Maybe later, if you let me take a break. I’m here to work for you.”
“I brought a substitute for Dawn,” Casey explained. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m not picky about my slave labor. Long as it’s free.” He grabbed a Lakeside Distillery shirt from the box in his truck and tossed it to Zane. “But what’s up with Dawn? Is she okay?”
“Patty was supposed to be covering the store for her today.”
Ward hadn’t talked much to the part-time cashier at Cosgrove’s. She seemed responsible, though. Not the kind of person to flake on a shift. Especially with the baby bump she was rocking. “Was she a no-show?”
“Oh, she showed. Left a souvenir, too, as her water broke right in front of the postcard display. Patty’s only seven months along, so nobody expected this to happen.”
“Shit.” Two months early, even to Ward’s limited knowledge, didn’t sound good. “Zane, help me finish emptying this truck bed. Just be sure you stack each type of liquor separately. It’s gonna get off-the-hook busy soon. Need to keep everything sorted.”
“Gotcha.” Zane stacked two cases on top of each other. “But don’t get used to bossing me around. There’s a definite expiration on my taking orders from you.”
Casey picked up a box of shirts and walked with them. “Joel rushed Patty to Geneva General Hospital, and is staying with her until her husband gets off shift. Dawn’s stuck at Cosgrove’s for the day.”
“Back up,” Ward demanded. “Joel was with Dawn? When she opened the store at the crack of ass this morning?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Casey said with a suggestive wink and grind of her hips.
That was interesting. Ward didn’t keep track of his friends’ love lives the way the girls did. They were crazy obsessive over every damn detail. Stupid stuff, like demanding to know what each person ordered on a dinner date. Whereas Ward could care less to hear if Casey’s date had ordered a Caesar salad or a wedge.
But since he and Piper had accompanied Joel and Dawn on their official first date exactly one week ago, it was kind of surprising to hear they were already spending the night together. Huh. Joel was getting lucky with a woman he’d secretly wanted for only about four years. Ward’s hots for Piper had lasted ten whole years, and he’d only made it to first base with her in the past week. That sure as shit wasn’t fair. Plus, he hadn’t even had a chance to rib Joel about it.
“You’ve got a prime location here.” Zane took a long, exaggerated whiff of the air as he slit open the cartons. “That barbecue will draw people to this end of the festival faster than bimbo groupies flock to rock stars.”
“You have some personal experience with rock stars or groupies?”
“Based on going to concerts as a teenager, hoping to score and watching all the girls flock backstage? Oh, yeah.”
Ward ripped open a sleeve containing plastic shot glasses. “That probably had less to do with the rock stars and more to do with you being a nerd, Professor.”
“Not an entirely unfounded hypothesis. Anyway, you’ve got the porta-johns fifty feet away, thirst-inducing barbecue smokers and the cupcake lady across the way. An ideal lineup of neighbors.”
“I’ll bet Ward misses his real neighbor,” Casey said slyly. “The Morrissey Vineyards booth is way down at the opposite end of the festival.”
He’d been thanking his lucky stars for that all morning. “Piper’s not talking to me.”
Casey snort-laughed as she unzipped the canvas money bag and ripped the wrappers off stacks of ones. “Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.”
“I’m serious. She’s given me the full cold-shoulder treatment. Won’t yell at me. Won’t return my calls or texts.” It pissed him off, actually. Ward got that Piper was mad at him. But he had no clue why. If she didn’t talk to him, how could he fix it? Her silence was just making things worse. How was he supposed to convince her that they belonged together in the next twenty-two days if he couldn’t even talk to her? “Didn’t she tell you?”
“There might have been a mention.”
Now they were getting somewhere. He measured out identical towers of twenty shot glasses along the back edge of the counter. “Of what?”
“Your general jackassery?”
This time Zane was the one who laughed. Ward shot him a glare. Wordlessly—and wisely—Zane turned on his heel for another trip to the truck. “What the hell did I do?”
Casey rolled her eyes. “Very funny.” She slid the bills into the cash box and started on the stack of fives.
“Not one bit funny. Not from where I’m standing.”
“If you think I’m sticking my nose in the middle of you two and your fight, you’re nuts. I didn’t pick sides when you broke up all those years ago, and I’m not doing it now. Work it out yourselves.”
“Can’t do that if she won’t tell me what I did wrong.” Ward grabbed the cash from her. Stuffed it under the counter and pulled her down to sit on the two folding chairs at the back of the booth. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Case, I’m asking for your help. Honest to God, I don’t know what’s got her panties in a twist. The only thing I know is that the longer this teenaged behavior lasts, the pissier I’m getting. Don’t pick sides. Don’t bother to tell me the eighteen names she called me. Just lay out the facts.”
“You’re not putting me on? You really don’t know what set her off?”
“If I did, I’d be busting my ass to make it right.” Or pointing out where she’d overreacted. But either way, he’d do something.
“Awww.” She patted his knee gently. “I forgot that you’re a man and can be totally clueless.”
“I told you to keep the insults to yourself.”
Casey stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. “Okay. Here’s the deal. You let that giggly Asian guy flirt with you.”
Ward almost swallowed his own tongue. “The hell I did! And Piper, of all people, shouldn’t need to be told that I’m not gay.”
“Don’t worry—we’ve all heard the stories of your epic kissing skills. She knows you’re not gay. Bu
t you didn’t stop him from flirting with you.”
Right. Might as well ask him to stop global warming, too. Since he had equally zero idea of how to do either one. “I repeat, I’m not gay. I have no idea if a guy’s flirting with me. What does that even look like?”
“Whatever happened on Friday—that’s what it looks like. Anyway, his flirting’s just the tip of the iceberg. She’s not talking to you because you stole her feature in WWLL.”
Ward pushed back with his heels until his chair teetered on only two legs. That was how much Casey’s statement had thrown him for a loop. “Swear to God I didn’t, Case.”
She raised her right hand and began to tick off points on her fingers. “Didn’t you take the giggler back to your distillery? Isn’t he stopping the presses to get you into the December issue?”
“Well, yeah.”
A third finger popped up. “Didn’t he come out here to shine a big, bright spotlight on Piper and Morrissey Vineyards and turn her into a winealicious star?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you, at any point, channel your inner good-boyfriend sense and tell him to forget about your business and focus on Piper?”
“Yes,” he snapped out, defensive. “At first.” Then, when Casey just raised an eyebrow at him, Ward thought a little longer and a little harder. “I mean, not flat out or anything. But—”
She wagged her index finger so close to his nose he felt the stir of air on his cheeks. “No buts.”
How could this be the reason behind Piper’s big freeze-out? “But that doesn’t make sense. Piper kept throwing stuff at Hiromi about the distillery. She made me talk about it. She was the one pimping my business out.”
Casey’s lips pursed. “You know what? I’m sure she did. Probably had the best of intentions to get you a mention, too. Just a mention, though. Only a mention. And certainly not at the expense of her feature.”
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