Crushing

by Kelly Kay

  His expression changes to blank. Then he crosses his legs as his mouth opens slightly. That’s right, asshole, I know exactly who you are. And the women who fawn over you and the men who scramble to be in your sphere. He’s the darling of Santa Barbara’s social columns and social media. He gets major movies, apps, and software companies financed. He has yet to make a misstep in business. Well, maybe just one. He underestimated me. I’ve never been impressed by money or status. “From my research, you don’t want to be a part of this vineyard. You have no say in the sale or any piece of this business at all. I return to my original question, what are you doing here?”

  He sits straight up. “Sale?! Mom. What the hell is she talking about? What’s going on? Was the idea of a sale hers or did that come from Asher as well?” His father leans over and puts his hand on Josh’s arm.

  “Later. We’ll talk about it later. And watch your language.”

  “What the hell happened to your arm, Mom?” He references Sarah’s new cast.

  “It’s just a slight break. It will be off in like a week. I tripped while weeding at the amphitheater. Sit. Let her finish. Elle, I’m so sorry for the interruption. I’m terribly embarrassed. I’m so sorry for my son’s behavior. Please go right ahead.”

  “Thank you. Now let’s get to the plan.”

  Josh snarls under his breath. His mother places her hand on his shoulder, and he backs down.

  I go through my ideas for exposure and media stunts. Everyone seems to be laughing and enjoying themselves. Then I go in for the kill.

  “I don’t think you need to be any different than you already are. The buzz phrases in my business are building a brand, launching a new deck, or creating taste-making moments. Any firm would usually strive to get your name on the lips of ‘influencers.’ But LaChappelle/Whittier doesn’t need any of those things. New labels or a new name will all just be a waste of money. Rebranding, repackaging, and relaunching is a tremendous waste in this situation. This vineyard, this family, and this wine already have everything it needs to succeed. It’s an enormous testament to the quality of people who choose to stay here for decades and to most of the family that treats the land and their people with the utmost respect.” I take a breath, and everyone is hanging on my words, including Joshua. I launch into my strategies and the particulars.

  As I go into my closing, Josh’s eyes have softened and I can see a glimmer of the man from last night. “My only job is to let people know you’re here. I don’t have to trick or con or need to come up with gimmicks. I plan to simply expose as many people as I can to the perfection tucked away just beyond 8th Street East.”

  And that’s how it’s fucking done. You take off your underwear and wait on the bed for me, bitch. I glance at Josh. Oh shit. Holy fuck, he has my underwear. I see the black peeking out of his shirt pocket like a dirty pocket square. He must have had it in his jeans pocket and moved it there while I was talking. I AM DYING.

  Will starts to clap a bit, and the others join in. “That was wonderful. Thank you.”

  I sit down. “Please stop clapping. I meant everything I said. If anyone has any questions, I’d be happy to make time for you. I know you’re on a busy schedule today, and I don’t want to take up more of your day.” I stand and shake everyone’s hand. People are talking to me, but my entire attention is drawn to the sandy blonde broad-shouldered figure cutting through the room and out the door.

  I walk into the narrow hallway with Sarah and Will. “Where are you staying?” Sarah inquires.

  “I was at El Dorado the last couple of nights. But Asher has offered to let me stay with him until I figure out our next steps…” From behind me, I hear a scoff.

  His booming voice trails down the hall to me. “Asher Bernard.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  JOSH

  That fucking weasel is the reason I came up here to this meeting. I heard he had positioned a woman to work for my parents. A friend told me. But I do not trust Asher, and they shouldn’t either. He’s even screwed my parents over in the past. They’re too softhearted for business, and they have certainly been taken in by this harpy. As I was. Fuck. Why did she have to be this woman? The woman I need to get away from my parents. And what is her relationship with Asher? I only wish I wasn’t fucking hard just looking at her. I remember every second of last night. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.

  It was different. Elle couldn’t have targeted me, I rescued her. And no one would have anticipated that I’d be at Steiner’s. Only my parents knew I’d be in town. But still. I’m so pissed. Pissed that I still want her. Pissed she’s selling my parents’ winery out from under them. And pissed that Archer is anywhere near them or her. I’m furious at the idea that Asher’s even shaken her hand. Shit, did I just get jealous? NO. It’s just anger at her and what she’s doing.

  I’m in my head, until she answers me, pulling me back to the present. “Yes. Asher. Why?”

  She turns her delicate face to me. I wish her skin didn’t blush the way it does. I saw the red indicating she hates me, and I saw the pink blush on her lush cheeks when I embarrassed her. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so angry that she lied to me. She’s not a simple, no makeup girl. She’s a fucking shark. Her soft pouty lips are drawn in a straight line now, looking at me, trying to intimidate me, but all I can think of is my cock between them. Hellcat. Fuck. It was a fucking spot-on pitch. She owned the room and me. And that doesn’t happen. What is it about this woman that makes me think and do things that are not in my norm? She’s a wizard who put some kind of jinx on me.

  I push the thought away. Asher is bad. She doesn’t know shit about this world or me. I don’t back down and certainly not from someone I’d like to throw over my shoulder and fuck raw in the vineyards. Her attitude and stature as she pops her hip are making my stomach flip a bit, but not scaring me.

  She’s inconsequential in this business and in my life, but she’s still insanely hot. She’s all I thought about since I left her side. I wanted to get back to her. I was contemplating staking out the El Dorado after this staff meeting. She felt different and significant even while we were anonymously fucking.

  But this morning’s Elle is a lot different. There were shades of her holy bitchiness last night, but I thought it was sass. Her blown-out hair and blush nude lips are the opposite of the girl I was so captivated with last night. She’s too polished. And too corporate. She doesn’t belong here.

  Her cheeks flush, telegraphing her thoughts to me while I make her wait for my answer. I do not need this woman in my head, and my parents certainly don’t need anyone connected with Asher Bernard anywhere near us.

  She turns away from me to talk to Randy, the tasting room manager. I get to look at her ass in that body con dress. Only highlight from this morning.

  Asher’s such a slimy weasel. He’s smarmy, charming, and dressed for the part. Lots of people have fallen for his act. It took a while for everyone to exchange notes and see what was happening, so he did well for about a decade.

  Asher's main scam was to offer consulting services to wineries. He promised boosted reputation, sales, and visibility. He’d wine and dine people all the time. Turns out it was usually his friends on the winery’s dime. Then he’d pour at events for the vineyard all over the country. Then after a couple of months of no results, he’d create an excuse as to why it didn’t work. Then demand his payout fee on his contract. Every wine shop, restaurant, and winery he’s been associated with ended up light a half pallet of wine and a significant chunk of cash as he moved on to his next mark. Then he’d turn around and sell product privately to collectors, the wineries never seeing a dime. He profited off his incompetence.

  A friend at some Healdsburg dinner last week told me Asher was poking around my parents like a vulture. And then the guy overheard my parents get super excited about the girl he was with and working with her. They can’t be together. Is she working with him?

  Asher’s reputation proceeds him now. He’s been
kicking around the area for twenty years, and nobody really knows where he came from. I think I was fifteen when he first came to town. He’s about a decade older than I am. My grandfather was in charge back then. He steered clear of him. Lucien, my grandfather, was a ruthless man and had strong gut instincts when it came to business. A trait that skipped a generation, my mother is too soft-hearted.

  Once my parent’s took over the winery, Asher reared his ugly head again. My parents are the sort of people who see the good in everyone. They trusted Asher years earlier and got burned. He’s apparently made amends to them over time, but fuck that guy. I didn’t get my parents’ forgiving genes.

  Asher’s reputation is built on a house of cards. His current scam has him building up other people’s cellars with his so-called knowledge. He claims to have gone to UC Davis, but no one knows him. Asher’s the guy who always purchases two bottles of an exclusive reserve vintage at cost, but mysteriously only one ever gets to his clients. Asher attends the opening of an envelope. He's also always ready to be an “expert” for any occasion or article. If it’s free, he’s there to pimp himself out. And if they’ll pay him, he’ll travel anywhere.

  Most of his current reputation was built outside the bubble of California wine country. He flies to wine competitions in places like Traverse City, Michigan, and Niagara, and he’s touted as the “esteemed California wine country judge.” Even though he has a shit palate. They pay him and reimburse all his expenses. If she came to my parents through him, she’s tainted too. Probably a complete grifter.

  I step down the hallway away from everyone else. I call out to her. I want to see if she’ll come to me.

  I answer. “Figures.”

  She moves towards me. That’s right, come to me. Damn, her hips when she walks. She says in a pointed pinched tone. “What does?”

  “He’s too cosmopolitan for the area as well. He’d never throwback whiskey in a t-shirt and jeans. But then again, looks can be deceiving.”

  She fires right back. “Deceiving, huh? Like promising that something would last all day but seems to have faded at dawn?”

  Fucking bitchy comment. She and I both know she still feels my cock. “Asher’s a self-made asshole.”

  “Same could be said of others.” She chuffs at me.

  Mom approaches us, and we shut up. There’s a tense moment, and then she breaks it again, trying to bust my balls. Mom continues to the front doors.

  “I’m from New York, he seems quite homespun to me.” Elle says this hoping it will make me feel like a hick. It doesn’t.

  “Whatever you say, Cosmo. Been nice, umm.”

  Go away, little girl. I see those heels you’re tottering on, raising you up, giving you false courage. My job is to size people up, and I got you, girlie. Lust may have clouded my vision last night, but I’m all awake now.

  She smiles at me. “It certainly was, but that’s clearly over.”

  As she walks past, her intoxicating scent fills the narrow stone hallway. The lilacs and orange blossom. I shake my head to refocus on how I now distrust and hate her.

  This community was founded by farmers. People who loved the idea of hard work and creation. They still feel the soil, prune the vines, and cultivate the rootstock themselves. A world and a craft that someone like Elle Parker plainly saw dollar signs in.

  That bullshit she was shoveling seemed to have worked, but wait until I talk with my parents. I’m sure she doesn’t believe it and will turn right around and rebrand the shit out of my parent’s winery for no reason other than money. They don’t need her or anyone. The winery is in the black, we don’t need more, they don’t need more. And sell to whom? Why? What would they do? Retire? They’re like sixty and vibrant. Fuck this and fuck that girl. Oh, that’s right, I already did.

  She finishes her glad-handing. I position myself at the door. She won’t leave here without knowing in no uncertain terms that she’s not welcome. I don’t care how fucking charmed her mouth is. The entire reason I’m up here is to stop Asher’s plans and now whatever this sale bullshit is. My parents suck at business, so I hauled my ass up here. And thank god I did. There's no reason for her or a sale.

  She walks down the hallway and out the door. We’re alone in the parking lot, and I’m blocking her path. Her scent is overpowering.

  She says haughtily, “Please move.”

  “Listen. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you. Just like last night.”

  “You think so? Last night, I was a girl who needed to get laid. Today, I’m a woman with a job to do, and no one fucks with my business no matter how good they are at fucking.”

  She’s good. But she will listen to me, or I will break her. I’ll buy the firm and get her ass fired. “You’ll drop this entire plan. Walk away from my parents, take your gorgeous ass to the airport, and fly home to New York. Report to your superiors that you lost this piece of business. Tell them the client says we’re not for sale and we don’t need a new slick marketing agency.”

  There’s electricity to what’s passing between us. It’s making me twitch below. I tuck Elle's panties deeper into my pocket as she watches. Then she glares at me with those green globe eyes, and I can see vibrant gold flecks dance within them. There’s a moment where I see the girl from last night. And then like a veil her eyes cloud over and she straightens her posture. As if she was pushing me and whatever we feel away.

  “You’re not my client. And I don’t have superiors, asshole. I am the superior. My name is on the door, is yours? I mean, in Santa Barbara.” She knows it’s not. And now I can’t stand her and can’t stop myself from wanting her.

  “See ya, Cosmo.” She gets right in my face, no one else is around. I can see her slight mask of freckles hidden under light powder. The ones I saw naked last night. She grins insidiously, and I’m not sure if she wants me to kiss her or slap her. But I feel the same.

  “Don’t fucking call me that. Josh.”

  “It’s Joshua to you.”

  Her voice lilts with a sarcastic tone, “Whatever, Suit. I’d say see you later, but since you’ve abandoned the winery for most of your adult life, I won’t worry about you getting in my way."

  I hold her wrist lightly, and she gasps. And there’s that damn spark between us. She turns towards me, fire in her eyes and lust flushing on her chest.

  I look at her earnestly, trying to bury my fury at being lied to and seduced. I feel betrayed. And I need her to define what the fuck she’s doing near Asher.

  I ask, “Which one’s the real you? This outfit is gorgeous on you, but it doesn’t compare to the girl I met last night. This one is too cosmopolitan.”

  She doesn't hesitate to ask the same, “Which one is the real you? Josh, rumpled linen bourbon drinker or Joshua, expensive suit Instagram model fucker? Open-air or steel and glass?” She knows full well, my house is made of steel and glass. She researched my damn house.

  She goes for the jugular of guilt, but I made sure she doubted herself too. Direct hit but I don’t let her know. This woman needs to go. And she pulls out of my face, leaving me standing there with a slight erection and my nostrils coated in her heavenly and infuriating scent.

  She’s wrong about one thing. I have no intention of getting out of her way. Not if the winery and my parents are under her spell. No one takes advantage of me or my family. Fuck this arrogant girl. She goes down, and I’m the one to keep her on a short leash.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Elle

  Will and Sarah put their foot down and told Josh that I was hired, and that he didn’t need to worry. I’m glad they stood up for me. I’m glad he’s gone but I hate that I think about him all the damn time.

  I’m about ten days into this gig, and the commute from Asher’s to Sonoma is killing me. He lives about forty minutes from here, and in California traffic time, that translates to about an hour and a half each way. I slept at the hotel, MacArthur Place, a couple of nights just to get a break from the road.

  Also, Asher�
�s overly flowery house decor is a bit much to take. I have been sleeping in the guest room, and he’s not pleased about it. Most days, I leave before he gets up and come home super late. I could just get another hotel room, but I don’t know how long I’m going to stay. I met a girl named Poppy who owns a little cafe in town. Her parents have a winery just up on Highway 12, and it has a guest house that will be available in a couple of weeks. Not sure I can hold out.

  So far things have been uneventful, and it’s a lot of set up. There’s been no word from Josh, which I tell myself is a good thing. I hate him, but it doesn’t stop me from masturbating to him all the fucking time. I mean, the thought of that night replays in my head constantly. I imagine that he finds me at that meeting and everyone leaves us alone in the room. I imagine he takes me in the Cooperage in every way imaginable.

  I must separate that night from the reality of their jackass son. It still burns my heart a bit at how dismissive he was with me. His eyes that were so full of hope and surprise that night turned so cold and angry the next day.