Love on the Lake Boxed Set

by Amy Gamet

  To believe in him.

  Perspective.

  The word rattled around in his head like a coin in a jar. Charlie’s voice, coming through the ages.

  It’s just a matter of perspective, Rafael.

  They’d been sitting on Charlie’s boat, fishing or maybe just sharing a beer. Charlie said Rafael’s own beliefs were holding him back, that if he could see himself as successful, he would be able to become so.

  That was when Rafael thought he’d never have a home to call his own, and it had taken a great deal of convincing from his mentor before he believed home ownership was a real possibility.

  Now Charlie was gone, and if Rafael wanted to find an investor to help him buy Crescent Moon, he’d have to change his perspective on his own.

  He pulled into his driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires of his truck. He stared at his house, listening to the rustling of the weeping willow and the lapping of the lake in the distance.

  Where would he find someone with enough money to lend him? The only person he knew with that much money was Edward.

  Rafael rubbed his lip. Bonnie and Edward may want to sell the winery, but they weren’t thinking of it as an investment. Rafael had big plans for Crescent Moon that included expanding distribution overseas, plans that could seriously affect profits.

  Surely Edward would be interested in that.

  He walked into the kitchen and opened a beer, settling on the deck with the lake beyond. The water was as smooth as glass.

  Charlie would tell you to go for the girl, too.

  Melanie.

  If he really wanted to pursue a relationship with her, and not just be her boss or some casual acquaintance, it was time to make his move.

  Lobo walked up to him and rested his head on Rafael’s lap. Rafael pet him. “Looks like we need to hire someone else to work in the tasting room. Because Melanie’s going to be spending her days working with me.”

  * * *

  Melanie jogged around the corner, her breath coming in pants as her feet trudged along the pavement. It was windy out this morning, and a harsh breeze seemed to blow her back, impeding her progress.

  She grumbled as she fought the wind and approached the coffee shop full of morning customers, knowing her jiggly legs and butt would be on display through the plate-glass window.

  “At least I’m not eating a donut,” she said out loud. “Or one of those gooey, incredibly delicious caramel macchiatos.” Her mouth began to water, so she turned around and ran back the way she came.

  She knew all too well what donuts and macchiatos would get you, which is why she was running in the first place. And it was starting to pay off.

  Rafael certainly seems to like what he sees.

  She swore at the direction her thoughts were taking, no doubt because of the dream she’d had the night before.

  The very detailed, very sexual dream about Rafael.

  Wow.

  She giggled and began to cross the street, only to stop short with a gasp when a car honked its horn.

  That will teach you to think about sex at an intersection.

  She held up her hand to the driver, feeling like an idiot. “Sorry!” she yelled, and the driver of the minivan shook her head as she passed. A man was driving a Jeep behind the minivan, and Melanie and the man made eye contact.

  She’d know those eyes anywhere.

  Greg.

  Her legs threatened to give out from beneath her.

  Greg who she’d known since she was nine.

  Greg who could make her laugh even when she was in a terrible mood.

  Greg who she had missed so badly for so long, she sometimes wished she’d never even met.

  She turned her head to follow the car as it continued on, half expecting it to pull over. Her breath was coming hard, her mind already questioning what she’d been so certain of just a moment before.

  Was that really him?

  What was he doing back in Moon Lake, and why hadn’t he stopped to talk to her?

  She shook her head, hard. “No.” Her mind replayed the moment as if it was a film, looping over and over again. The man’s haircut was different, the jaw somehow all wrong.

  Looking both ways, she jogged across the road. “I am losing my mind. That was not him.”

  No way.

  But her feet were shaky beneath her, and she had the eerie feeling she’d just seen a real live ghost.

  * * *

  Rafael spent the morning supervising the harvest workers and watching the crush in the winery. Now he was spending his lunch hour at his computer, catching up on odds and ends that demanded his attention.

  A knock at the door. “Come in.”

  Peter walked in and sat down, the smell of wine floating on the air with him. While it was Peter’s job to taste the wine several times a day, Rafael was beginning to suspect Peter often went above and beyond the call of duty.

  He wondered absently if he should talk to him about it.

  Peter crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

  “You mean Crescent Moon? I haven’t bought it yet.”

  “But you’re going to, aren’t you?”

  “I’m going to try. Two point eight million is a lot of money.”

  “It’s worth more. Bonnie’s giving you a break.”

  “Possibly.”

  Peter clucked his tongue. “Good old Charlie, looking out for you even from the grave.”

  “Is there something you want to talk about, Peter?”

  “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Truth is, you do a good job here. I get that. But Crescent Moon lives or dies by its wine, a wine that I have put my heart and soul into. It’s because of me this place has done as well as it has up until now.”

  Peter’s cheeks were red, whether from emotion or alcohol, Rafael couldn’t tell for certain. “No one’s contradicting you. I know what your contribution means to the winery.”

  “I am the winery.”

  Rafael leaned back in his chair. He was tempted to argue that point, but thought better of it for the time being. “What is it you want?”

  “A mutually beneficial partnership. If you buy Crescent Moon, I want to be in control of the winery.”

  “You already are.”

  “No, you are, which is why you feel free to order my assistant to work in the tasting room and bring that new girl up here where she doesn’t belong.”

  “You didn’t seem unhappy about it yesterday.”

  “I’m not against a good looking woman decorating the scenery for a while, but she has no business working in a winery.” Peter waved his hand. “But I didn’t come here to talk about her.” He stood. “If you buy the vineyard, we could be a team. Maybe the best team in the Finger Lakes. But it has to be a team, Rafael. Not a dictatorship.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  “I hope you will. Because if we can’t find a way to work together, I’ll be forced to consider other options.”

  “I understand.”

  * * *

  The next few days were hectic ones for Melanie, as she helped to pick the red pinot noir grapes and ran back and forth to help out in the tasting room with Doris.

  Rafael had been busy, too, which meant Melanie hadn’t gotten to see a lot of him—a fact that should have made her happy, and instead had the opposite effect. So when he asked her if she wanted to help him push down the cap of grape skins on the freshly fermenting pinot noir grapes, she was pleasantly surprised.

  “You sure you’re ready to do this yourself?” he asked, the slightest grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

  Melanie nodded, pulling her hair back as it blew in the breeze. “Sure, I’m sure. Peter showed me how yesterday.”

  “It was easier yesterday. Just be careful you don’t slip and fall in.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

  He held out his hand. She stared at it.

  “I’m trying to
help you,” he said.

  She felt heat begin to flood her face as she took his hand. It was warm and strong and utterly distracting. He helped her climb on top of the large bin, the scent of the grapes deliciously strong and musky.

  “Put one foot on the other edge, so you’re on a corner. You’ll be better balanced.”

  She scooted one foot over to the other side. “Hand me that thing-a-ma-bobber.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “The cap push-down tool?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Rafael handed her a long metal pole with a wide funnel-shaped end. “The first one’s the hardest,” he said. “Use the step if you need to.”

  “Step?”

  “The metal piece sticking out from the side of the pole.”

  She lifted her leg and put the ball of her foot on the metal piece. “Like this?”

  “Yes, now step down, using your weight to break through the cap.”

  She did what he said, and the thick layer of dark red grape skins beneath the funnel gave way, sinking into the liquid below and throwing her off balance. “Whoa!” she yelled, and Rafael grabbed her around the legs to steady her.

  She turned to him. “Anybody ever fall into this thing?”

  “Annie, the first season she was here. Funny as all get out. I have pictures.”

  “You’re horrible.”

  “Try again, you’ve got this.”

  She was aware of the calloused fingers of his hands as they slipped down to her calf, and the connection that was humming between them.

  Lifting the metal pole back out of the bin, she once again used it to punch down a piece of the cap. Rafael was right. It was easier this time. “This is fun.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” He rubbed the inside of her ankle lightly with his thumb, and the glorious sensation traveled up her leg.

  She froze.

  Had he done that on purpose?

  It was such a small movement, it was difficult to tell for sure.

  Better question… Did she want it to be on purpose?

  “I think I’m good, you can let go now,” she said.

  He dropped his hands and she continued to punch down the cap, slowly making her way around the large bin. She was aware of him below and behind her, and the view he must have from down there. She paused for a minute and stared at him. “Can you go over there?”

  “What if you lose your balance?”

  “Then you can get your camera.”

  Rafael smirked, but moved as she’d asked.

  “I hired someone else to work in the tasting room,” he said. “A college kid named Jimmy. We’ll still need you to help Doris out sometimes, but mostly I want you up here, working with me in the vineyard.”

  She felt herself flush as she pushed down the last of the cap. “That sounds great, if that’s what you want.”

  He stepped closer and took the cap push-down tool from her, his body just inches away. “It’s not about what I want, sunshine. It’s about what you want. Always has been.”

  Melanie shuddered, her eyes locked with Rafael’s.

  She thought of the driver who so resembled Greg, then she thought of Rafael pulling up to her house without her telling him which one it was.

  If she was going to spend every day working with Rafael, she was going to have to make some decisions. She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth. “I think I’d like that.”

  “Good. He starts tomorrow. Nice job on this, by the way.” Rafael turned and headed for the winery.

  Melanie felt someone watching her and twisted around. Annie was standing a few feet away.

  “Be careful,” Annie said. “It’s not as simple as it seems.”

  “I heard you fell in,” said Melanie with a smile.

  Annie’s chin went up. “I did.” The wind picked up, blowing her short hair up and around her face. “It happens when you start to feel too comfortable, like everything’s going your way. That’s when your feet will slip out from under you, just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  Melanie hopped down from the top of the bin, a chill running down her spine at the other woman’s tone. “See? I was careful.”

  “Doesn’t mean anything.” Annie raised an eyebrow. “So was I.”

  * * *

  Brandy put a pint of cloudy orange beer down in front of Melanie.

  “Oh, sweet barley and hops, come to mama,” said Melanie. She took a sip of the icy cold shandy and moaned appreciatively. “Did I mention I thought I saw Greg driving down Water Street yesterday?”

  “No way.”

  “It probably wasn’t him, but it sure looked like him.”

  “That happens to me all the time,” said Brandy. “I think I see some guy I used to date, but it turns out to be some new guy I end up asking out.”

  Melanie rolled her eyes. “Do you ever stop?”

  “Of course not. How was your first week with the weirdo?”

  “Don’t call him that. He’s not a weirdo.”

  “Whatever.”

  “It was good, I guess.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Nice. A lot nicer than you’d guess from seeing him here.” She thought of telling Melanie about him knowing where she lived, and thought better of it.

  “There’s a ‘but’ coming next. I can sense it.”

  “No but.”

  Brandy reached out and took Melanie’s wrist, examining the bracelet. “That’s pretty. Where’d you get it?”

  “On my front doorstep.”

  Brandy’s eyes went wide. “First earrings, now this. You officially have a secret admirer.”

  “Yeah.” Melanie stared at her bracelet. “This might be crazy, but I think Rafael might be the one leaving me presents.”

  “Rafael the freak?”

  Melanie slammed her drink down. “Don’t call him that, Brandy. He’s not a freak at all.”

  “Wow, sorry. My bad.”

  “He’s a nice guy. Just because he doesn’t mingle…”

  “Doesn’t mingle? He sits in a corner by himself.”

  “Stop it.”

  “What?” Brandy’s eyes went to the door behind Melanie. “Uh, oh. If that’s not perfect timing, I don’t know what is.”

  Melanie turned around and found herself staring into Rafael’s eyes, the floor beneath her barstool suddenly seeming to give way. She gave him a small wave, but he was already heading for his usual spot at the end of the bar.

  “What makes you think he’s your admirer?”

  He’s kind of been stalking me.

  Brandy disliked Rafael enough without more ammunition.

  “He lived at the Sonnet-Brown house for a while. Whoever found the treasure from Tori’s Treasures donated most of them to the Sonnet-Brown house, except for the earrings they left for me.”

  “Seriously?”

  Melanie nodded. “And he commented on my bracelet today. He said the twisting leaves reminded him of me.”

  “Like a Kama Sutra kind of thing?”

  Melanie reared her head back. “No.” She shook her head. “Where do you get this stuff, Brandy?”

  Brandy took an olive on a toothpick. “I have sex. And I think about sex. Sometimes I even bring it up in conversation. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get that incredibly normal, friendly, downright gregarious guy at the other end of the bar a refreshing beverage.”

  Melanie shot a glance in Rafael’s direction as Brandy waited on him. He was sitting alone, like he always was, removed from everyone else at the Grill.

  His words played back through her mind.

  If I’m alone, it’s through no fault of my own. I’ve spent years making up for my mistakes, and I’m a better person than some of the people looking down their noses at me.

  He wants people to be friendly?

  I’ll be friendly.

  Melanie picked up her beer and slid off her barstool. She knew more than half the people in here, knew their family and friends, an
d she was suddenly determined that Rafael see how nice they really were.

  Mingle a little.

  “Hey,” she said, sitting down next to him.

  “Hey, yourself.” He was wearing a plaid button-down shirt, and he smelled spicy-clean, like he’d just taken a shower.

  Melanie inhaled the scent deep into her lungs. “I thought I’d come over and be sociable.”

  “And here I thought you were going to show me how friendly the locals really are.”

  She looked from side to side, and he laughed. “I can read you like a book.”

  “Can you?” The question was meant innocently enough, but as soon as it was out of her mouth she knew it sounded provocative. It hung between them as their gazes lingered on each other.

  This guy is intense.

  “You ready for another beer?” asked Brandy.

  Melanie turned away from Rafael.

  “I’m not done with this one yet,” she said.

  “When she’s ready, put it on my tab,” said Rafael, and Melanie turned back to him. “I can buy a pretty lady a drink, can’t I?”

  She smiled. “I don’t see why not.”

  An older man walked up to the bar beside Melanie, and she said hello before turning to Rafael. “This is Bill Martinson. He owns Casa Verde.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” said Rafael.

  “You two have a lot in common,” said Melanie. “Rafael is the vineyard manager at Crescent Moon.”

  Rafael shot her a subtle look.

  “Is that so?” asked Martinson. “Ever since Charlie passed away, I can’t seem to get used to the idea of anyone else running the place.”

  “I see.” Rafael nodded.

  Martinson waved to a man who’d just walked in. “Tom,” he called out, then looked back to Rafael. “It was nice meeting you.” He walked away to meet his friend.

  Melanie grinned. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

  “Don’t do that again,” said Rafael.

  “What? I just introduced you…”

  “I know what you did, and I don’t want you to do it again.”

  She scowled. “Why not?”

  “I am not some child you need to find a buddy for on the first day of school. I can handle myself, Melanie.”