Champagne Cheers

by Jules Dixon

  “Good night, Lucky.”

  I did my normal routine for the afternoon. First, I checked on the fermenting room, all good. Second, I checked the outside temperature. The Vidal grapes could only be harvested after the temperature had been consistently below -8 Celsius for multiple days. Knowing when to harvest was a balancing act. Each year was different, but the grapes could go another couple of nights and snow wouldn’t hurt them at all. And since it would take at least four of us to harvest, I wanted to wait until Jurgen and David were back on January second, but if necessary, Lucky and his teenage son could help me and … well, we’d make do with three. That was the burden of being a small winery; a lot of the manual labor landed on the owners because hiring it out wasn’t going to happen. The final product was a part of the vintner, a little of their heart in each bottle.

  I finished and locked up the outbuilding. I jiggled the locked door to the tasting room, the cold metal freezing my hand. The snow blustered and the change of temperatures when I entered the house fogged my glasses. This day wasn’t ending anywhere near where I’d hoped, and hope was dwindling fast.

  Chapter 3-Matteo

  The winery owners, Doug and Sam, at Edelweiss Winery had done their best to present a case for their upcoming upgrades on equipment. The replacement was a good strategy seeing as their current setup was a good two years past its prime. The project wasn’t exactly what I was thinking of investment-wise, but their wines were outstanding, they were professional, and I agreed to their proposal with a reasonable profit in two years. I was cautious that my father would argue the return wasn’t sufficient, but what they’d presented was fair.

  In the tasting room, I’d sat around with the two owners talking about the area. Their eyes sparkled with happiness and satisfaction for their chosen career. This place was special for the residents and businesses. They invited me to have dinner with them at a local Irish pub for what sounded like a hearty meal I’d love to have. But due to the weather, I had to regretfully decline the offer to get back to the plane and get back to Chicago to be with my family for a New Year’s celebration.

  I’d be taking home at least one win, and hopefully, that would be enough to secure a position in my father’s corporation. Another step to direct my career closer to earning my position at the top when my father decided to pass the torch. At least that was the plan.

  Until two hours ago.

  Now the plan seemed clouded and twisted after viewing two blue eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses.

  Two offended blue eyes.

  I spun the luscious red treasure in my glass, the alcohol trickling long legs of wine down the inside. I examined my drink. Color. Smell. Taste. Perfection. These two knew how to make wine, and from watching them together, they knew how to make a man jealous, too. They weren’t only business partners, but also partners in life. I’d listed a relationship in my plans for when I was settled at Bonacci Investments. After I had enough money not to care what my father thought of my sexual orientation, when I didn’t care what he thought about anything, when I could be me. Would that day ever come? I had hope, but not much time.

  The wind whipped through the room when Lucky opened the door. Snow layered his shoulders and black cap. He rubbed his hands together. “Mr. Bonacci, we need to get going so you can make your flight time.”

  He’d gone back to calling me by the proper name after I got into the car outside of the Becker’s. I decided the formality was for the best. I wasn’t an idiot; obviously, he was prepping the vineyard owners that we were on our way. Doug and Sam were practically standing by the door to greet us. The intrusion into business probably would’ve irritated my father but to me, it just revealed the true solidarity of the vintners and residents. They weren’t only friends. They treated each other as family.

  Doug stood from his stool. “Matteo, you’re welcome back anytime. We’re very thankful that Bonacci Investments has become part of the Edelweiss Winery.”

  I shook his hand. “We’ll have the paperwork to you within two weeks and your money about a week after that.”

  “Looking forward to keeping you apprised of the installation.” Sam’s shake had a friendly pause to it. “You’re welcome back anytime, Matteo.”

  Continuing interaction wasn’t something that my father entertained. He’d send someone to ensure the purchases were going smoothly and the money was used as promised, but I could envision coming back here and sitting outside during the summer, enjoying a plate of cheese and bottle of their red wine while the sun set in the background and the cool, crisp Canadian air brushed over me.

  “I’ll be back. That’s for sure.”

  Sam’s face lit up. “That’s great to hear.” His gaze flicked to the window. “You better get going.”

  I grabbed the bottle of wine they’d graciously offered me and buttoned up my coat. “Later, gentlemen.”

  Lucky held a hand out for the bottle of wine, I passed it over to slip on my gloves before we both headed out into the gray whiteness.

  He opened the door. “Do you have to be back in Chicago tonight?”

  “Yes, I have an important dinner meeting with my father at nine.” I entered the car. Heated seats were a godsend, at least my ass thought so.

  He closed the divider between the two compartments. The car slid around a corner and I rocked in the back seat. He regained control, but the same motion happened on almost every corner no matter how fast or slow he was going.

  The black divider went down.

  “Mr. Bonacci, I’m sorry, but as I suspected, the airfield has been closed, and the QEW into Toronto is closed, so I can’t get you there to take another flight.”

  “Please take me to a hotel.”

  “I’ve been calling, and sir, they’re full up tonight for the holiday.”

  I remembered a sign outside of Three Cheers, there was little chance he’d want to have me as a guest, but business was business.

  “How about the Three Cheers Bed and Breakfast?”

  Lucky’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “I’d be glad to give you the number and you can call.”

  That was odd.

  “Lucky, what’s going on?”

  “The bed and breakfast is closed indefinitely because Ina Becker is over in Germany caring for her ailing father. She’s the one who runs the B&B, not the boys.”

  He really did know the family.

  I had a couple of choices, sit in an all-night convenience store and hope the weather cleared enough for me to get out or…

  “Lucky, drop me off there. I’ll handle it.”

  * * *

  I asked Lucky to pick me up as soon as he could the next day, then sent him on his way. I developed scenarios of how this was going to go in my head. I’d ring the doorbell, Janek would answer, I’d request a room with a generous leafing of bills in my hand, and he would invite me in. My father was big on visualizing the outcome. I’ll try it.

  I rang the doorbell. I rang the doorbell again. And again. Shit, maybe he’s left for the evening. I knocked on the door and it flew open.

  Janek’s face flushed a crimson red. “No.”

  And the door slammed in my face.

  “Mr. Becker?” I banged on the door. “Janek!”

  The door swung opened again and he stood there with his arms crossed. His chest muscles pressing perfectly against his emerald green sweater causing an outline that said he did a lot of the work here on the vineyard himself. I stopped myself from ogling him and stepped forward.

  “Mr. Becker, I have a room reserved for tonight. My secretary made the arrangements.” I tried to move forward but he held up a hand.

  “We’ve been closed to guests since mid-October, and since I only heard from your investments liaison, and not you or any assistants, so I’m gonna go with you’re full of crap.”

  I reared back. A different tact possibly. “Janek…”

  He scowled, but waited with his arms crossed.

  “I need a room for the night. Please.�
�� I lifted my wallet and started to pull out bills, but the door closed in my face. My head listed back and I shoved my wallet back into my coat pocket. Great.

  I’d never understand how my father coerced people into doing the things he wanted them to. Effortlessly. It was a talent I might never develop, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. The way Mr. Becker’s eyes had narrowed in on my wallet sank heavy into me. Buying my way in, that wasn’t me. I rapped on the door again.

  “Mr. Bonacci, go away.”

  “I’m sorry, but I let Lucky leave…”

  He cursed behind the door.

  I rested a hand against the door jam, sighing heavily. “If you’ll just let me in, I’ll call for a cab and go to the nearest convenience store to wait out the night.”

  The door cracked open, but he didn’t invite me in. I stepped into the entry. The house was incredible. Dark chocolate and butterscotch walnut woods and deep reds and shades of gold on the walls warmed me instantly. The room swathed a person in a comforting haven.

  I closed the door and slipped off my coat. “Thank you. I promise, I’ll be gone within the hour.”

  “I have work to do. Let yourself out when you find a ride.”

  And he was gone.

  Chapter 4- Janek

  The solid and slender chest beneath his coat was what I’d imagined. It wasn’t right that I wanted to see if my large hands would fit around his compact waist. It’d been too long since I’d been with a man. I remembered back to a date in a different decade, even if that wasn’t reality. It wasn’t fair that he had to act like an asshole. It wasn’t right that the house was empty, there was opportunity, and yet, I couldn’t even think about anything but the bank loan. Even one night of no holds barred sex could make a little something in my life feel right. But nothing felt … right.

  The only reason I’d opened the door was that Doug called and rambled on about how pleasant Matteo was and how he’d agreed to support their venture. But I didn’t have to support him staying here. I was going to be alone for New Year’s Eve and that was solid.

  “Janek?” his voice carried down the hallway.

  And that.

  My name was spelled with a “J” but when said in my native German tongue that letter was sounded as the English “Y.” And every time he said Jan-ek with the hard “J,” I wanted to correct him—or punch him—but I wouldn’t do either. He’d be gone soon and the mispronunciation wouldn’t matter.

  “I’m on a phone call.” I lifted my phone to my ear to act the part.

  He rounded the corner into the den. This was my sanctuary. Warm brown woods, leather furniture, and welcoming jewel tones filled the room and cocooned a person like a cashmere blanket.

  “Are you really on a call?” he whispered.

  I dropped the phone with a long huff. “No, but that doesn’t mean I want company.”

  His gaze scanned the room. “Wow, this reminds me of my grandfather’s study in Montepulciano, Italy.” His fingers clasped the back of the leather sofa. “Love how you stuccoed the walls, very reminiscent of the palazzi of the region.”

  That was exactly what I’d been going for. My brother and I’d toured the area, taking in ideas and tips no one had ever heard of for wine production, the past protected by generations of winemakers’ families. Carefully, we’d broken down barriers with the locals by sharing some of our wines. When they realized we knew what we were doing and were interested in conserving the best customs and traditions of the craft, they opened up. Over bottle after bottle of wine, we conversed and made lifelong friends who would be devastated to know the trouble we were in. I could grow grapes and create award-winning wines, but it was up to Mother Nature not to give them diseases or pests.

  “You’ve been to Siena province?” I asked him.

  “Yearly. My family still lives there—grandfather and six uncles, three aunts, and hundreds of cousins. I love sitting on the estate’s terrace and letting the sun rise and set in my presence.”

  Sounds like the sun revolves around you.

  I placed the proposal I’d created for our meeting off to the side.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Mr. Bonacci, leaning back against the sofa. He had a way of making himself look comfortable. Anywhere. And everywhere.

  “Thank you. Mr. Bonacci, if you’d like to wait—”

  “It’s Matteo, please. This room’s inviting and warm and thank you for allowing me into it.” His brown eyes flashed over my body and his mouth lifted into a soft smile. That penetrating gaze undressed me as I sat in the chair.

  I wanted to dislike him, but damn it, he wasn’t entirely dislikable. He was charming and interesting and sexy as fuck. And I hate thinking those thoughts.

  I relaxed in my chair. “The home’s modeled after our ancestral country home in Germany. Lower Saxony outside of Braunschweig, north of the Harz mountains.”

  “Braunschweig? Like the deli meat?”

  “Yeah. The States call the city Brunswick.”

  “And how do the Germans feel about the bastardization?”

  I declined to answer. I was Canadian now. I wouldn’t throw our sister country to the south under the bus. “Let’s just say it’s not their favorite thing, but they’re understanding of mistakes in pronunciation of even the simplest things. Probably best to make it easy for our United States friends.” My digs went unnoticed, and I returned to straightening my desk absentmindedly.

  He stood, his thighs pressing against his trousers, the lean muscle clear to the eye. “Then Braunschweig it is.” He even rolled the word off his tongue like a true German, demonstrating he could learn to say words correctly.

  He strutted the room like a military general overseeing his troops. His gaze examined a tapestry and a few family pictures and nodding his head in some unspoken approval that wasn’t necessary. The man commanded a room, and I was mesmerized. I had to wonder where he got such a gift for authority. His presence made me revisit yearning-filled possibilities I should keep under control.

  “Mr. Bonacci, were you able to get a ride?” I had to get my restraint back. He was only a temporary guest and I was considering helping him to be less temporary.

  With his back to me, he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Janek. Everything has shut down. I know this isn’t fair to you, but if you’ll allow me to stay here tonight, I’ll find some way of leaving tomorrow. I promise.”

  I checked the weather app on my phone. “That won’t be happening. They’ve increased the snowfall to between six and eight inches. That shuts this area down for days.”

  “Days?” He walked to my desk. “I have to be back in Chicago for a meeting with my father tomorrow night. He put it off for twenty-four hours, but he won’t put it off for longer.” His eyebrows furrowed.

  “I’m sorry, but we tend to stay put when storms happen.”

  He paced back and forth. “Do you have a car I could use to get to Buffalo?”

  “Not one you could leave there. Plus the storm stretches from Des Moines to New York City, and down as low as Cincinnati and up to Montreal. Unless you have teleportation in your tricks of travel, you’re stuck here.”

  “But…” His face paled and his body slumped into a wingback chair in front of the desk. “How much is a night in the bed and breakfast?”

  I stood and rounded the desk, leaning back and crossing my legs at my ankles. Matteo rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled something under his breath, shaking his head.

  It was time to suck it up. My mother wouldn’t want me putting anyone out in this weather and I wasn’t that guy. No matter how annoying he could be.

  “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t looking for company for New Year’s Eve, but I’m not heartless.”

  He adjusted and reached for his back pocket. “Please let me—”

  “You pull your wallet out again and I will throw you out into the snow,” I said as deadpan as I could.

  He chuckled, the color coming back to his face. “Thanks, Janek.”

  It�
��s Yah-neck, but you’re welcome.

  I stood. “I have to go check the fermentation tanks for the last time tonight.”

  “I’d love to see your operation.”

  My leather boots squeaked on the wood floor as his request stopped my forward motion. I spent my time in the production house alone. It was where I could forget about loans and bills.

  Matteo started to follow even without invitation. “How many barrels do you produce yearly?”

  “I didn’t say you could come.”

  “But you didn’t say I couldn’t either.” He flashed that award-winning smile.

  I stopped in the doorway. “You really have no boundaries, do you?”

  He passed by me and his firm chest brushed along my arm. “No one’s ever tried to stop me before from getting what I want. Wanna be the first?”

  Chapter 5- Matteo

  I was shamelessly flirting. And I didn’t care. Not like I had anything to lose. Janek obviously didn’t want my money. Now I was stuck here and most likely going to be fired by my father, homeless and jobless. But I wasn’t about to let him know that. We were a captive audience of two. Alone. And he was looking at me like I was a bottle of Chateau Lafite 1787 and he was very thirsty.

  His eyes widened behind his round, metal glasses. “All right. Follow me.”

  We grabbed coats and headed out the back door.

  “What varietals do you grow?” I asked.

  Janek listed off the grape varieties and acreage sizes of each planting.

  “And the Vidals are still on the vine?”

  He opened the door to the fermenting plant. “For now. Hoping to get them picked in next day or two, but with six to eight inches of snow—”

  “I’d love to help with that.” I brushed the snow from his shoulders before we walked inside the building.

  Janek’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back at me. “Don’t you have to be back as soon as possible?”

  “How’s this year’s production going?” His question was warranted, but I didn’t know what to say. Admitting I was going to be jobless and homeless soon wasn’t a way to impress anyone. I appreciated the truth, as hard as it was to hear sometimes, and we all had troubles in life. But as my father had reiterated a hundred times, sharing problems was like handing someone a key to exploiting your weakness.