“Did he say mushrooms?” Scooter stage-whispered.
“Porcini,” Blue replied excitedly.
“Tartlets!” Scooter squeezed her. “That’s my new nickname for you. Tartlet.”
Laughing, they powered their way into the kitchen right over to the island. Alex grinned at them, then leaned a bit to the left to see around Scooter’s height and catch Grace’s eye. Before she could try to explain that this wasn’t the advance team, he gave her a wink that communicated more confidence and comfort than she’d ever had in her whole life.
“Chef Alex Santorini,” he said, wiping his hands on his white chef’s apron and then extending one as he came around the island. “Welcome to my kitchen.”
“I’m Scooter. This is Tartlet.”
She giggled and shook his hand. “You can call me Blue.”
“They decided to come in place of the advance team,” Grace said, coming up behind them. “Isn’t that a wonderful surprise?”
“No surprise,” Alex said. “After reading that article in Rolling Stone about how you show up for your own sound checks five hours before a show, Scooter? I seriously expected you today.”
Scooter shrugged. “Hey, I was a roadie as a teenager with big dreams. I learned then, if you want something done right, you don’t leave it to anyone else.”
“And you’ve wanted a winery wedding since you were a kid,” Alex said to Blue with a sly smile. “At least that’s what the author of Am I Blue wrote in the authorized biography.”
“You read that?” she asked. “Just for…this?”
“Of course.”
He had? Grace hadn’t even thought about reading Blue’s biography. That’s what Alex called winging it?
Alex slipped by them to sidle next to Grace, putting a light hand on her back. “We haven’t talked about much else but the chance to have this wedding at Overlook Glen.”
Grace drew in a breath, a little envious of his social ease, and in awe, too. “Having you here in person is incredible,” she said. “Would you like to start with a tour?”
“I’d like to start with a tartlet,” Scooter said, powering toward the island and eyeing the array of food. “Jeez, Louise, man. You made all this?”
With a quick squeeze to her shoulder, Alex waved everyone closer. “Just wanted to let you know what kind of appetizers we might serve for your event. So I worked up a little tasting menu.” He slid one tray forward, overflowing with long pastries filled with colorful veggies and bubbling cheese. “A Provençale vegetable tart drizzled with champagne vinaigrette and a fontina and basil dressing.”
“I’m actually going to cry.” Blue smacked her hand over her heart. “Or dive in face first.”
Alex laughed. “These are simple cheddar gougères, which are…”
Scooter picked up the puff pastry and popped it into his mouth. “Cheeseballs, French style,” he said on a chew. “Oh, sweet mother naked in the backyard, that is good.” He swallowed and eyed the rest of the island like a starving man.
Alex continued walking them through the platters, from onion tarts to something called a brandade de morue. “This?” he said, picking up a small round of bread and running it through the luxuriously silky spread. “Will inspire you to write more music.”
Blue leaned over the dish, holding back her long chocolate-colored waves to inhale. “Get. That. In. My. Belly. Now.”
They all laughed, taking a break from chattering to just stare at the food.
“Uh, I thought we could start with a walk-through,” Grace tried again. “We could look at the various spots for your vows to be exchanged and sit in the conference room to discuss event logistics and enjoy all this food.”
For a moment, the two guests just stared at her, expressionless, then they both belly-laughed in musical unison. Holding Blue with one arm and grabbing the tray of brandade with the other, Scooter called over his shoulder, “I’m not leaving this place right here, mama. Get this shit to the table, stat. Bring some wine. Forks?”
“Optional,” Blue joked.
Grace and Alex exchanged a look of surprise, his face nothing but amusement and a willingness to go with the flow. But Grace was sure hers revealed that old monster who resided deep inside of her, the one that writhed when things went off plan and tensed when she couldn’t guide them back.
After a second, Alex leaned over and whispered, “We got this, Gracie.”
She stared at him for a moment, realizing that with each breath she took, she was inhaling the confidence and flexibility and pure strength he exuded. And the scent of some really tasty herbs and spices.
“We sure do,” she said under her breath.
Grace might not like to pivot and fly in a new direction, but Gracie? Maybe, just maybe, she could.
* * *
They ate, drank, and were so damn merry, Alex’s face hurt from laughing at this odd and hilarious couple, who were so down-to-earth it was hard to believe they were megastars with millions of rabid fans.
And dear God, Scooter Hawkings could eat.
Alex had almost as much fun watching the big man devour every bite with gusto as he did laughing at their silly antics and constant teasing, kissing, and inside jokes. When the last of the appetizers was nearly gone, Scooter leaned back, knocked back the rest of Grace’s Pinot Noir, and threw an arm over Blue’s shoulders.
“Blueberry, let’s go check the place out, what do you say?”
“Oh, I’ll take you,” Grace said, pushing up from the bench she shared with Alex. “We can—”
“Go alone.” Scooter held out a halt hand. “If you don’t mind, we like to roam on these walk-throughs.”
Interesting, Alex thought. How many had they done?
“I need to just soak up the spiritual essence of the place,” Blue said in her airy, birdlike voice.
Scooter snorted a laugh. “Don’t even ask me what that is, but if it involves taking off her clothes and rolling on the grass, I’m all in.”
“And we’ll stay out,” Alex joked.
“It’s getting the vibe,” Blue said. “I need to get married in a place that smells like…love and joy. I want my friends and family to be smothered by the feeling that what happens here is good and lasting. So, we go alone. Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Grace assured them, but Alex could feel her whole body tense next to him.
“We should take the puppies out, anyway,” he said to her.
“Wait. What?” Blue choked the question.
“There are puppies?” Scooter practically shot out of his chair.
“I love puppies!” Blue announced. “How many?”
“Three of them,” Grace said. “And they are no doubt chomping at the bit to get free.”
“Release the puppies!” Scooter shouted in a dead-on Clash of the Titans voice.
“Oh my God,” Blue whispered. “Could this get any better? Three puppies!”
Grace turned to Alex. “Want to help me round up the crew?”
“Absolutely.”
Leaving their guests, Alex and Grace walked out of the kitchen, and the minute they were past the reception area and out of earshot, they stopped, turned to each other, and high-fived with both hands.
“They loved your food.”
“They love this place.”
They spoke at exactly the same time, then laughed. “Alex,” Grace said. “This is all you. They haven’t even seen the property.”
“They liked the Pinot Noir,” he said, coming close to mockingly whisper, “And the spiritual essence.”
“Not as much as the reblochon tarts with fingerling potatoes, or those herb and lemon baby artichokes.”
“The artichaut poivrade is a game changer,” he agreed, putting an arm around her to walk toward the conference room and the sound of their barking charges. “And now we close the deal with the three musketeers.”
She laughed again. “I never dreamed this is how I could land this event. It’s all so…spontaneous and unpredictable.”
She said it like the words were synonymous with horrible and dangerous.
“I happen to love spontaneous and unpredictable,” Alex said. “I live for both.”
Grace groaned. “Not me.”
“You’ve got to learn to let go, Gracie. And trust me.”
“I’m learning,” she promised as they reached a crate that literally rocked with the excitement of three squirming, barking, dying-to-be-free puppies. The minute Alex unlatched the door, Jack and Bitsy poured out, too fast to be caught. Alex darted to snag them, but Gertie practically jumped into Grace’s arms, her tail wagging at warp speed.
“Oh, my little girl,” Grace crooned. “You missed us. Come and meet our famous guests.”
Alex snatched Jack and called for Bitsy, grabbing her just as she reached the door. Scooping one into each arm, he turned in time to catch Gertie licking Grace’s face and kneading her chest with two happy paws.
Lucky puppy.
Grace threw her head back and gave the most liberated, joyous giggle, echoing what he’d heard from that petite rock star in the kitchen. It was a beautiful sound that drew him closer to her and made him ache to do everything that dog was doing—kiss, touch, and drown in the sound of Gracie’s uncontrolled laughter.
“You know, I think these three could seal the deal for us,” she said on a sigh at the end of her long laugh.
Us. He liked that. “We’re a good team,” he said softly. “You, me, and the dogs.” He dipped his head so they were inches apart, close enough to kiss her so easily, close enough that he could hear her soft intake of a surprised breath.
For what felt like three, four, maybe five heartbeats, they just looked at each other, and neither one moved. One more second, and he would—
“Let’s see them puppers!” Scooter’s booming voice broke them apart suddenly, making them turn as the big man and his bride-to-be came waltzing in with no regard for any boundaries or protocol.
“Here they are,” Grace said, a little breathless. “This is Gertie. The brown one’s Jack. And the frantic one is Bitsy.”
Scooter put his massive hands on either side of his face. “Lordy, I’m dead. Just deceased on the ground. Are they yours?” he asked Grace.
“For the moment,” she said. “They were abandoned at the winery.”
“Abandoned?” Blue’s voice cracked like she’d hit the falsetto on one of her ballads as she took Bitsy from Alex. “Someone left these darling creatures? Oh, Scooter. I want them.” She kissed the puppy. “I want them all.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Alex said, stepping in before the man who’d give his lady the moon got any ideas. “They need to stay here,” he said, getting a look of abject disappointment from the lady. “I’m sorry, but they’re under the care of a local vet, and we’re hoping to find their mother. But you can see them anytime you’re here.”
“Then I’m going to want to come back, and soon,” Blue said, taking and snuggling Bitsy, who squirmed to get free. “You are my little nugget.”
Holding the puppy, she looked around, her eyes widening at the wall of oversize wedding prints Grace had hung. “Oh! Look at them. Were all these taken here?” she asked Grace.
“Every one. Right out on the terrace and in the winery and some on the grounds of the vineyards.”
She stopped in front of one, using Bitsy’s little paw to point. “Love that dress, hate those flowers. Oh my gosh, that view is a perfect backdrop. I want to see that spot right there, right now.”
Scooter made a face at Alex as he took Jack in his big hands. “Puppies are more fun.”
Jack was practically lost against Scooter’s giant chest, rolling into a ball and settling against him, as calm as Alex had ever seen him. Scooter whispered endearments into the dog’s ear, like he wasn’t a big lug of a mountain man cuddling a five-pound ball of fur.
“Let’s go look around, Scooter.” Blue handed Bitsy to Grace, who took the dog with the free arm that wasn’t holding Gertie. “I want to get the feel of this place.”
“Only if I can bring Jack the Ripper.” At Blue’s look, he added, “What? That’s what he’s doing to my heart, right?”
“We should hang on to the puppies,” Alex said, only a little afraid these two would get a little overenthusiastic with them. “They have some restrictions on the property, but they’ll be waiting for you.”
The big man reluctantly gave up Jack. “I’ll be back,” he promised, Terminator style, before joining Blue and heading out.
As their voices faded down the hall, Grace and Alex turned to each other.
“I knew they’d bring us good luck,” Alex said.
“You brought the luck,” she said. “And the skill and style and…and…” She lifted the two dogs in her arms. “If my hands weren’t full, I’d probably kiss you right now.”
He leaned closer, over all three dogs. “Be my guest.”
She gave him a peck.
“A real kiss,” he urged.
“When we make the next cut for this wedding.”
“That’s what I need,” he said to Jack. “Inspiration.” But he really needed that kiss and wouldn’t be happy until he got it.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Grace was still feeling the glow of the day before. The laughter, the food, the optimism, the puppies. The chef.
That gorgeous, talented, passionate, confident, sexy chef who’d kept her awake with fantasies and thoughts she hadn’t entertained in a long, long time.
Scooter and Blue had spent hours walking the vineyard, poking around the winery, and lounging on the terrace, playing with the puppies until all five of them were asleep in the setting sun.
Inside, Grace and Alex had cleaned the kitchen until it sparkled, then waited. And talked. And planned. And laughed. And started planning another meal for the unorthodox guests who didn’t seem to want to leave. But then Scooter came in with a sleeping Blue in his arms and whispered that they had to go.
So as strange as their arrival had been, their exit was just as dramatic and…unexpected.
Alex had left soon after, hoping to get to the restaurant for Tuesday dinner service, which she couldn’t believe he could cook after that long day. That night, Grace had slept with the puppies in the crate next to her bed until they succeeded in begging to be let into her bed in the middle of the night.
As soon as the sun slipped over the horizon, she took them out, spreading their purple blanket on the lawn in front of the cook’s cottage to let them romp in the morning air, secured by shrubs and a small gate so they couldn’t escape.
Glancing at the little house, she realized she hadn’t even thought about Desmond once in more than twenty-four hours. Sighing with sadness, it made her realize that one more person had come and gone in her life, leaving not even a trace behind. Just…three dogs and one blanket.
She swallowed against an unexpected lump in her throat, guiding Gertie onto her lap for some love.
“People just seem to disappear in my life, Gert,” she whispered to the dog. “It must be me.”
Gertie looked up with big brown eyes, her expression so dear, Grace would have sworn she was disagreeing.
As she pulled the little creature up for a kiss, her phone buzzed. It couldn’t be eight o’clock yet, she thought as she fished it out of her sweatpants pocket. She used this phone as the winery line, so calls did come in at all hours.
She gasped softly at the name Denise Cooper on the screen. Blue’s advance person? They’d made a decision already?
Crossing her fingers, Grace took a deep breath and answered the call with her most professional voice. “Hello, this is Grace Donovan. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Grace, it’s Denise. Hope you’re still speaking to me after that surprise.”
Grace laughed. “Of course. It was a completely pleasant surprise, I assure you.”
“Really? On a scale of one to ten, how speechless were you?”
“About an eleven. And a half.”
�
��You sure recovered well,” Denise assured her. “Blue gushed last night when she called me after they finished at Foothill Ridge.”
Grace almost choked. They’d left here and gone to another winery? A much bigger competitor? “Oh, that’s…” Stunning. “Good to know.”
“So, I hope you’re sitting down.”
Oh Lord. “I am.”
“Blue and Scooter want to do a dry-run event at the last three wineries in the running.”
There were three? “Okay, we hoped for that, although my chef did cook for them.”
“Trust me, I heard,” she said on a sarcastic moan. “If I had to hear the word tart one more time, I might have screamed. The only thing they loved more were those puppies.”
Grace smiled and stroked Gertie. “They are a bit magical,” she admitted.
“They must have been, because I’m happy to officially announce that Overlook Glen made the next cut.”
“Really?” She gave Gertie a victory kiss. “I’m so happy to hear that.”
“Don’t get too happy,” Denise added. “Because with that comes some significant work on your part. If you want to drop out, we understand. Foothill did, which is why we’re down to three finalists.”
Grace felt like her head was spinning. “Foothill Ridge Winery? Where they went last night?”
“Yeah. But Blue didn’t really love them, to be honest, and it might have been mutual. The owner was pissed they showed up so late and in person, no less. Anyhoo, when I told Foothill the parameters for the next round, they dropped out.”
How bad were the parameters that Foothill would walk away from this wedding? “Then they mustn’t have wanted to be selected as much as we do,” Grace said.
“Good answer, but maybe you better hear me out first.”
She switched the phone to her other ear, sitting up straighter. “Go ahead.”
“Scooter and Blue are asking that the remaining three wineries replicate a wedding in every way. Not their wedding, mind you, since I know you didn’t discuss any details about what Blue wants. But a weddinglike event. Top to bottom, food, wine, décor, photographer, music, everything. And that one-of-a-kind wine is a must. They want you to put it together and supply at least twenty people to attend, in addition to the entourage they’ll bring, which will mean about forty total for the event.”
Three Dog Night (The Dogmothers Book 2) Page 9