The Vintner's Vixen

by Rebecca Norinne

  “What can I do for you?” Angelica asked. She wasn’t particularly thrilled about the interruption either, but she was at least capable of putting on a polite face. Grumpy Noah was on full display.

  “Do you have time for a meeting later today? The Council and I have a proposition we’d like to discuss with you.”

  Angelica raised her eyebrows in surprise, and then glanced at Noah, who shrugged, apparently just as baffled as she was. “Let me check my schedule,” she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and opening up her calendar app. “Would four o’clock work? I think I’m done filming at three, and I’m not meeting with the countertop measurers until six.”

  “That would be perfect.” The mayor awarded her a sunny smile, stretching his face into a complicated series of curves and wrinkles under his shock of fluffy gray hair. “Thank you. We can come to you, if that’s easiest?”

  “Uh, sure.” She didn’t exactly have a conference room, but the dining room was at least mostly finished. “Sounds good.”

  “Wonderful! We’ll see you then.” The mayor shook her hand, gave Noah a nod, and then destroyed several more people’s Monday mornings by again disrupting the flow of traffic in the tiny shop as he made his way to the door.

  “What was that about?” Angelica turned to Noah.

  He shrugged again. “I have no idea. Maybe they want you to donate something for the Harvest Festival, since you’re the newest small business in town.”

  “Is that a thing?”

  He nodded. “I usually send a couple cases of wine. Sometimes they use it for prizes, sometimes they serve it during the pre-festival dinner.”

  “Let me guess. Max donates his time for the dinner?”

  “And most of the farms donate the food, yeah.”

  “It’s dinner for the entire town?”

  “Pretty much. They do up the square over there for the festival.” He tilted his chin toward the window that looked out on River Hill’s town square, an ornate Victorian gazebo at its center. “And the whole town participates, so the Council hosts a huge thank-you dinner for the volunteers before the festival opens. Banquet tables on the square, a big buffet, you know.”

  “Sounds fun,” she said. “I love festivals.”

  “Please tell me you’re not the sort of person who buys every handmade straw basket in sight.”

  “I mean, who can resist a really well-made basket?” she teased.

  “God help us all.” He rested his forehead on his palm in mock despair, and she laughed.

  “Don’t even start. I saw that inlaid wood clock on your wall. And the watercolors.”

  He raised a finger. “But I guarantee you did not see any baskets.”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “You’re a menace,” he said with a smile. “I’ve gotta go. See you later?”

  She nodded, and they followed the line back out the door with the ease of practiced customers before they went their separate ways.

  “Ugh. How am I supposed to have time to go to all of these events?” Angelica waved the sheaf of papers that had been dropped off by a courier toward Leah, who was packing up her supplies.

  “You make time, honey,” Leah said. “Do you need makeup remover?” She held up a large bottle of blue liquid.

  “No, I’ve got some, but thanks.” Angelica looked back down at the paper. “This schedule is insane. There are six promotional appearances, two premieres, and a charity gala. All in the next three weeks. Do they not understand that they hired me to film a renovation?”

  “Angelica, you’re the star of a TV show. This is what they do. TV runs on advertising revenue, and you’re the honey to lure those commercial flies.” Leah snapped her makeup case closed. “Call them and ask to rework the schedule if you have conflicts, but you’re still going to have to do the work.”

  Angelica sighed. “I know. “

  “Did you find out what the mayor wants?”

  “No, but he’ll be here in about an hour.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to change, then.”

  “What, you don’t have meetings with mayors with caulk on your shirt?” Angelica laughed.

  “I try not to get into these sticky situations.” Leah’s voice faded as she headed out the door with a final wave.

  Angelica looked down at the schedule again, and then grabbed a pen from the counter. “If I ask to take this one off the list and replace it with something later, and move this one…” She scribbled notes and crossed things off until the paper was practically unreadable. “There. That should work,” she pronounced with a satisfied nod.

  Having devised a schedule that was much more manageable, she fired off an email to the RenoTV promotional department staffer who was listed at the top of the sheet. Based on her upcoming construction schedule, she could handle three promotional events and a charity gala over the next two weeks. With a quick glance down her body and a purse of her lips, she realized she was probably going to have to improve her wardrobe, though.

  Speaking of which… she glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Oops.” No time for a shower, but she could at least change into clean clothes for the mayor. He probably wouldn’t notice a ponytail.

  Ten minutes later and freshly clothed, she opened the door to greet Mayor Rideout and two older women. “Come on in.”

  “Thank you. Angelica, this is Mary Amory and Patricia Lockwood.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She waved them in and pointed to the left. “Will the dining room work? It’s the most finished room I’ve got.”

  Mary Amory, a dark-haired woman with a friendly smile, nodded. “No problem.”

  They all trooped into the room and seated themselves around the long oak table before Angelica connected the dots. “Are you related to Sean Amory, by chance?”

  Mary smiled again. “He’s my son, actually.”

  “Oh! I know him,” Angelica finished rather lamely. Hard to explain that she knew this woman’s son because she was exuberantly fucking said son’s good friend.

  “Mary and Patricia are both small business owners who are on the town council,” the mayor said.

  “I see.” She didn’t, really, so she asked, “So what can I do for you?”

  “Well, I’m sure you know that word spreads relatively quickly around here,” Mary said with a grin. Angelica fought to cool the blush she could feel starting. Surely they weren’t talking about her and Noah?

  “We know you’re shooting a TV show here,” Patricia said.

  “And we’re all very excited about it,” the mayor added. “We were wondering if you might be open to expanding the scope of your filming a little bit.”

  Angelica blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “We thought it would be lovely if on your show you could walk around town a little, being sure to mention how nice River Hill is. It could be a lovely little boost,” Mayor Rideout explained.

  “Tourism is a big deal here,” Mary interjected, “and since you’re going to be opening an inn, you’ll want to be a part of the town’s tourism board, I expect.”

  “I… guess so?”

  “If you’re willing, we thought that possibly your camera crew could film some of the preparations for the Harvest Festival. Or even the festival itself, if you’re still going to be filming by then. It really is our town at its best.” The mayor straightened his shoulders proudly.

  “Oh. Oh, I see.” Angelica tried to redirect her brain, and think more about the show, its promotional value, and tourism. “That’s actually a really good idea.”

  And she wasn’t just blowing smoke up their behinds. If she was really going to become a part of this community, it behooved her to do her best to help it. And River Hill was a gorgeous town. It would definitely film well.

  “I’m not the person in charge of production, but I think the network producers would be willing to listen if I suggested it. Local color can only add to the show.” She was already drafting the email in her head. The network executive s
he’d signed the contract with had made lots of references to how cute River Hill was. It was going to be an easy sell.

  “Wonderful,” the mayor said, beaming. “I’m so excited to have you here, Miss Travis.”

  “The feeling’s definitely mutual, sir,” she said.

  As she showed the trio out, Angelica tried to identify the warmth coursing through her. Was it a feeling of welcome? Belonging? Years spent in Hollywood didn’t exactly make for a sense of community. She’d never felt so involved in anything before, so committed to a place and a group of people. It was nice, she realized with a big grin.

  And the urge to talk to somebody about this realization was strong, so without thinking, she dialed Noah’s cell phone.

  “What’s up?” He sounded like he was outdoors. Unsurprising.

  “Is this a bad time?” For all she was sleeping with the man, she knew very little about how he actually spent the bulk of his days.

  “Nah. Just checking on some stuff in the vines. You?”

  “The mayor just left. Oh, and I met Sean’s mom.”

  “Wow, he pulled out the big guns?”

  “Sean’s mom is a big gun?”

  “The Amorys have owned that bakery pretty much since the town came into existence. She’s like the Aristotelian ideal of a small business owner.”

  “And here I thought she was just a nice lady.”

  “Oh, she’s that, too. What did they want?”

  “Get this. They wanted me to film the Harvest Festival for the show. Isn’t that a great idea?” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Noah? You still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Sorry, I must have been breaking up a little. They want me to—”

  “—I heard.”

  “Oh.” What? Why wasn’t he saying anything? “Isn’t it a great idea?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, it is.” She didn’t know why she was snapping at him, but Grumpy Noah always brought out the worst in her. “It’ll be great for tourism, it’ll be great color for the show, and it’ll be fantastic for my personal brand.”

  “Thank goodness for your personal brand,” he said. The phone didn’t distort the annoyance in his voice.

  “I’m still trying to make a living, you know,” she said. She was a business owner. An entrepreneur. He, of all people, ought to understand that. And if he was her friend like he’d said, he should be supporting her too.

  “I know,” he answered, sounding tired.

  “Maybe I should just let you go,” she said with a feeling of regret. It had obviously been a bad idea to call him. “You seem busy.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “So … I’ll talk to you later, I guess.”

  “Yeah, talk to you later.” There was a click, and then her phone went silent. She lowered it and stared at its darkened screen. What on earth had that been about? She knew Noah wasn’t into the Hollywood lifestyle, but could he really object to a boost for his beloved town’s economic potential?

  She shook her head. The man was a mystery. An incredibly annoying one. Thank God she was just using him for sex.

  Right?

  So why did she have this sharp sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Noah tried to tell himself he didn’t care what Angelica did with her free time, how she chose to promote her business. But the idea that she’d leverage his town to boost her “personal brand” left him feeling pricklier than usual. And if experience had taught Noah anything, it was only a matter of time until she’d ask if they could film in his vineyards—or want something even larger from him. Like sponsorship or some other financial investment in the endeavor. The Bradstone name got everyone excited, and it seemed like Angelica wasn’t the exception, after all.

  He cracked open a soda and settled in at his desk to go over some important paperwork he’d been putting off. He’d gotten his MBA so he wouldn’t have to outsource these tasks, but now he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to hire the same firm his father used. It went against everything Noah wanted for Stonewell Vineyards and himself, but as he stared at row after row on the spreadsheet he considered it might be time to put pride aside for practicality.

  For the next few minutes, he shuffled papers and compared the sums on his receipts to the numbers on his screen, but his heart wasn’t in it. In addition to not being able to reconcile the two totals, he couldn’t stop thinking about his stilted conversation with Angelica. Lord, that woman could get under his skin like no one else.

  When one of the spreadsheets Noah was working in crashed his computer, he blew out a frustrated breath and pushed away from his desk. Yeah, he was definitely going to have to put in a call to his dad’s accountant. In the meantime, he had a few other calls to make.

  “Hey man, you want to head on over to Scallywags?” Noah asked when Max picked up his phone.

  “On a Monday night?”

  “Ugh, good point.”

  The small, pirate-themed waterfront bar was normally a good place to while away a few hours in a low-key environment, but in an effort to boost revenue, last summer the owner had announced Mondays were ladies’ night. While normally that wouldn’t have been a problem, the women who were affiliated with the local biker gang had claimed Mondays as theirs, and they weren’t shy about their appreciation for the town’s younger men. One word from Big Mitch about keeping their hands off his women, and Mondays at The Scallywag were forever off the agenda.

  “Sean said something about heading to The Hut tonight,” Max offered.

  That news gave Noah pause. Sean had moved back to River Hill after a pop star he’d represented had died from a heroin overdose. He’d felt responsible for the kid’s death, and needing a change of scenery, had quit his label and moved home to figure out what came next in his life. He’d been working at the family bakery ever since, and Noah and Max thought he was finally moving forward. Except, if he was drinking alone on a Monday night at the local dive bar, maybe Sean hadn’t moved on as well as they’d all thought.

  “Should we be worried about him? It’s a Monday, for Christ’s sake, and The Hut isn’t really up to Sean’s standards.”

  “Dude, glass houses.”

  Max had a point. Noah couldn’t criticize Sean for wanting to drown his sorrows there when he’d proposed the same damn thing. At least Sean had real, life-altering issues to work through. Angelica was just a blip on the path of Noah’s life; he’d probably forget all about her in a couple of months. At least he was going to try; drinks at the local dive bar were a good start. After all, he probably wouldn’t run into her there. Just because Sean had decided to slum it after years spent in the glitzy clubs and champagne bars of Hollywood didn’t mean Angelica could hack it with the rough and tumble inhabitants of River Hill and its surrounding communities.

  “So, The Hut at eight then?”

  “See you then.”

  Several hours later, Noah, Max, and Sean were sitting in a line at the rickety bar of The Hut, the grizzled old bartender Harry passing each of them a shot of cheap, bottom shelf whiskey. It burned Noah’s throat when he tossed it back, but it did the trick. A few more and he might not care about Angelica at all.

  “I’m telling you,” he barked, slamming his palm on the sticky bar, “it’s only a matter of time until River Hill turns in to Yountville. Or worse, Nob Hill! She’s inviting them into our midst.”

  “Dramatic much?” Sean laughed from the end of the bar.

  “I’m not being dramatic,” Noah argued, almost tumbling off his stool. Rebalancing himself, he continued, “Remember what happened when Guy Fieri won that food show? He drives a neon-fucking-yellow Ferrari now!”

  “Is that what you’re concerned about?”

  “Of course! That car is fucking hideous.”

  “You’re making no sense whatsoever,” Max told him. “Angelica isn’t like that. She’s a nice girl.”

  “Exactly!” he hollere
d, triumphantly. “She’s a nice girl who likes nice things. Fame is going to go to her head and she’s going to start carrying Gucci purses with tiny dogs inside.”

  “Do you think he even hears what he’s saying?” Sean asked Max over Noah’s head.

  “The better question is, do you think he’ll remember any of this in the morning?”

  “The Diner?” Sean notched his head toward the door.

  “Yeah, let’s get some coffee in him, otherwise he’s going to regret this in the morning.”

  “The only thing I regret is meeting her,” Noah mumbled into his empty shot glass as his two friends hoisted him off the stool and out to Max’s car.

  It took three mugs of steaming black coffee, two large glasses of ice water, and a heaping serving of scrambled eggs with a mountain-sized side of crispy, greasy bacon before Noah was feeling more like himself.

  “Why’d you let me drink that much?” he asked, pushing his plate away with a groan.

  “Let you?” Sean asked. “You threatened to punch me when I tried to stop you.”

  Noah winced and dragged his palms down over his face with undisguised embarrassment. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You know I’d never actually do that, right?

  Max smirked. “Yeah, we know. Despite your grumpy disposition, we’ve known you long enough to realize your bark is worse than your bite.”

  “Speaking of bark,” Noah said, “I should get home and let Molly out before bed. If I don’t, she’ll probably shit all over my rug again.”

  “We still on for Thursday night?” Sean asked, pocketing his change.

  “I’m game if you guys are,” Max said, looking to Noah for agreement.

  “Yeah, I’m in.”

  “Cool.” Sean pushed in his chair and, with his back to his friends, raised his hand in farewell. “See you Thursday.”

  “You good?” Max asked, concern writ plainly on his face.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Noah answered, stretching his back. “Been awhile since I went on a bender like that though.”