My shirt reads Everyone Remembers Their First Crush. “Crush” is a twisted word. It can describe an intense passion or a hurtful demolition. How can one shirt cause me to simultaneously think of the two men I’m trying not to think about? I hate this shirt, which in this moment, makes me kind of hate Monica too.
“Hi Jessica.”
Speak of the devil. “Hi Monica.”
She approaches me from the front of the lawn, where the events staff is setting up various tents and tables. “You’re working the sign-in table today, right?”
“That was my plan since Linda couldn’t be here today. Unless you need me somewhere else?” I want to add that perhaps I can do something that would require I change out of this shirt, but I don’t.
“No, that would be great. Oh, and I saw your name on the list for the employee competition.” This is news to me, since I didn’t sign up to participate this year, but a team must have been short a person, and I got added.
“I didn’t know I was competing today, but just put me on whatever team you need me on.” The grape stomp is a messy event. Maybe my shirt will get ruined.
“Thank you so much. I owe you one.”
You have no idea, Monica.
I work the sign-in table with Ryan. He checks in guests who have prepaid online while I collect payment from guests registering today. Two hours go by quickly. Ryan and I pack up our table as Mrs. Bianchi begins to give instructions to the crowd. I glance at the podium. Standing to the right of the podium are Luke and Aaron. I was told they weren’t going to be here today.
I take a deep breath and sigh as we move the table into one of the storage closets. Today just got more interesting.
When we step back into the crowd, Mrs. Bianchi’s voice booms once again through the speakers. “On your mark, get set, crush!”
The air is filled with laughter, squeals, and hollering as the teams egg on their stomping members. In this moment, I wish I had signed up to be a team judge, because Mrs. Bianchi is heading directly toward me, and Luke and Aaron are with her.
“Jessica, Ryan, there you are! Look who decided to join us today,” Mrs. Bianchi calls out when she is still several feet away.
“Nice to see you both again.” Ryan shakes hands with our two new investors.
“Good morning.” I offer my hand as well. Luke’s handshake is no different than Aaron’s, yet somehow it seems less friendly.
The men make small talk about the event and the summer-like weather. I try to relax and follow the conversation even though it has not escaped my attention that Luke has not looked at me once since shaking my hand.
“I like the shirts the staff are wearing. Very clever.” Luke doesn’t turn his eyes toward me when he says it, but I know the comment and the smirk on his face are directed at me.
Now I really hate this shirt and all it implies. Most of all, I hate standing in front of him wearing this shirt.
“Aren’t they great? Such a fun play on words. And I mean, who doesn’t remember their first crush, right?” Everyone nods in agreement, except Luke. I like the idea that I may have made him uncomfortable.
“I certainly remember mine,” Ryan responds. “That girl broke my heart.”
Aaron shakes his head and laughs. “Mine too. She broke up with me and started dating my friend…on Valentine’s Day.”
“I guess I was fortunate, because my husband was my first crush.” Mrs. Bianchi is wearing the same expression of adoration she always wears when she talks of Mr. Bianchi.
“You are one of the lucky ones,” I tell her sincerely.
“I know Luke remembers his first love.” Aaron gives no indication he knows he’s referring to me.
Luke stares hard at Aaron. After a second, he smiles. “She is definitely unforgettable. Unfortunately, I was not one of the lucky ones though.”
“Another broken heart, huh?” Mrs. Bianchi sighs.
I can’t help but huff out a cynical breath. The men turn their attention to me.
“What about you, Jessica? Was Grant your first love?” Ryan asks.
“No, he wasn’t,” I answer shortly. This day just keeps getting better.
“And?” Ryan pushes. I shoot him a dirty look, and he responds with an apologetic grimace.
“And nothing. Classic story of the girl being more invested in the relationship than the boy.” I’m careful not to make eye contact with Luke. A knot forms in my stomach.
Aaron changes the subject by asking Ryan a question about which grapes are being used for the competition. I should be grateful that Luke is ignoring me. Instead I feel deprived. My mind wanders until I hear Mrs. Bianchi’s voice again.
“I signed you both up for the winery competition. I hope you don’t mind.” She is addressing Luke and Aaron.
“Great. We’d be honored. I have to warn you though that Luke is very competitive.” Aaron grins at her.
“Aaron is exaggerating. I just try to do my best.” Luke wears a hint of a smile on his lips. He is keenly aware of how competitive he is.
“No, I’m not. I once witnessed a very heated game of Monopoly between my wife and this one.” Aaron points at Luke.
“She didn’t want to negotiate a fair sales price for any of her properties.” Luke shrugs.
“They finally ended the game after midnight when I kicked Luke out of the house.”
They laugh, and Luke shakes his head at Aaron. I resist the urge to share my own stories about Luke’s competitive drive. Like the hours he spent at the batting cages or the time he insisted we stay up all night studying for our chemistry final. I ended up with the higher score, and although he was happy for me, I could tell he was disappointed in himself.
I take an opportunity to glance at him while he’s laughing and not paying attention to me. He’s so handsome it’s hard to look away. His laughter makes his blue eyes sparkle. His eyes were always one of my favorite features. They change color depending on what he’s wearing and what the weather is like. On this sunny day, he has on a royal-blue T-shirt, and his eyes have taken on a sapphire hue.
“The departments form teams of three and compete against each other for bragging rights. It gets pretty competitive,” Mrs. Bianchi explains. “Ryan needs a third person on his winemaking team, and one of you can join the team with Jessica and myself.”
“Perfect. I volunteer to help the winemaking team.” Luke walks over to stand next to Ryan.
“Sounds good.” Ryan nods.
“Aaron, that means you’re with us.”
I should be relieved Luke isn’t on my team. Instead I notice a feeling of disappointment.
The first round of competition is wrapping up, so we all walk over to the barrels. There will be additional rounds of guest contests throughout the day, but we try to break it up by planning other events. The guests always enjoy watching the employee round, which is next. There are eight teams this year, but I would be willing to bet the winemaking team will win. Ryan and his assistant, Simon, usually do well during the stomp. With Luke being added to their team, they might be unbeatable.
The rules are simple. The competition is a relay, with each member of the team required to get in a half barrel and stomp on grapes for two minutes. The resulting juice flows out of a spout into a measuring cup. The team that produces the most juice in six minutes wins. Several winery employees serve as judges. Mrs. Bianchi wasn’t kidding when she said this was a competitive contest.
Monica announces the event over the PA system, and the crowd grows. Mr. Bianchi approaches with the grown Bianchi children and their families in tow. The winery teams choose their barrels and prepare for the event. Trash talking and taunting between the teams begin.
Ryan’s team is next to us. Ryan will go first, followed by Simon, with Luke going last. We have decided Mrs. Bianchi will go first, followed by me, with Aaron going last.
&nb
sp; The whistle blows, and Mrs. Bianchi and Ryan climb into the barrel and start stomping. It is extremely noisy as all the teams cheer on their members.
The whistle blows again. Mrs. Bianchi climbs out, and I climb in. Once I have my footing, I stomp as fast and as hard as I can. I glance at the other barrel to see Simon looking very determined.
The whistle blows again. I climb out, and Aaron climbs in. My foot twists on the slippery grass, and I fall to one knee.
“Are you all right?” Ryan rushes over and grabs my arm to help me up.
“I’m fine.” I wave him off. “Just clumsy.” My ankle is throbbing, but I don’t want anyone to know.
I balance on one foot as I watch the final minute of the competition. Luke and Aaron never even glance at each other as they furiously stomp the grapes in their barrels. The final whistle blows, and the judges grab the measuring cups in order to determine a winner. Luke and Aaron step out of their barrels and shake hands.
“Jessica, are you okay?” Aaron asks as everyone hoses grape juice off their legs and feet.
“Yeah. Not a big deal.” I try to minimize Aaron’s concern.
“Let me see.” Luke bends down in front of me and takes my ankle in his warm hands. It feels good until he applies a little pressure. I wince.
“Probably a sprain. Do you have a first-aid kit around here?” Luke directs his question at Mrs. Bianchi.
“Really, I’m fine,” I say forcefully.
Luke stands and takes a step back. “Can you walk on it?”
I take a step, but hobble from the pain.
“It’s sore, but I’m sure I’ll live.” I try to lighten the mood and my embarrassment.
“Each office has a first-aid kit,” Mrs. Bianchi says.
“Great. I played a lot of ball when I was younger and have taken care of many sprains. I’ll get this wrapped up.”
“Really…” I start to resist again, but Luke shoots me a look that makes me stop.
“Where is your office?” Luke asks pointedly.
I point across the lawn. “In that building.” I give in to my fate.
“Here, I’ll carry you.” Luke starts toward me with his arms outstretched.
There is no way in hell I’m letting him carry me. “I’ll hop.” I say it with enough seriousness that Luke lowers his arms.
“Jessica, it’s too far to hop. Let him help you,” Mrs. Bianchi pleads.
Ryan hurries to my side. “Put your arm over my shoulder.”
“I got her.” Luke doesn’t ask. He grabs my left arm and swings it over his shoulder.
At this point I will make more of a scene if I continue to protest, so I don’t. We’re about halfway to my office when it becomes apparent this isn’t working. Luke is taller than me, and the height difference is too much. This time he doesn’t ask before scooping me up in his arms.
He doesn’t say anything as we continue on to my office. I can’t help but breathe in his cologne, and it messes with my thoughts. I punch in my code to unlock the door, and he carries me into my office.
“Where’s the first-aid kit?” He glances around the room.
I point to the metal box hanging on the wall.
Luke takes out an instant cold pack and an elastic bandage. He kneels in front me and holds the cold pack on my ankle for a few minutes.
“Why do you do that?” he asks, eyes focused on my swollen ankle.
“I didn’t mean to. I should have been more careful on the slick grass.”
“Not that. Why do you pretend you’re fine when you’re not?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie. It’s always been a reflex of mine not to burden others.
Luke doesn’t press the issue. He wraps my ankle with the bandage. He’s gentle, but every time his hands touch my bare skin, shivers run through me. He peers up at me. “Don’t look at me like that.” Luke stands.
“Excuse me?” I sense my cheeks flushing.
“Don’t look at me like I can fix everything.” Luke tilts his head down.
“I’m not asking you to fix anything. You were the one who insisted on wrapping my ankle, and now you’re pissed off about it?”
“I’m not talking about your ankle, and you know it.”
“Actually, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you’re doing. You change how you treat me by the minute. First you pretend not to know me, then you kiss me, then you avoid me for weeks, then when I do see you again, you’re back to acting like you don’t know me. Then you insist on helping me when you don’t really want to.” I move my arms excitedly to illustrate my point. “You don’t make any sense. Pick a lane.”
He runs his hands through his hair and stares up at the ceiling.
“You’re right, I do need to pick a lane.” He abruptly turns and walks out of my office.
I hobble back outside after several minutes of resting my ankle. Ryan, Simon, and Luke won the competition. Everyone is mingling and drinking wine. Except for Luke. Apparently the lane he picked sent him back to San Francisco early.
Chapter 5
Several weeks after the harvest celebration, the first phase of the expansion plan is officially drafted, and Mrs. Bianchi plans a party to get all of the investors together. Aaron and Luke aren’t the winery’s only investors, but they are the newest and largest. The evening will be a celebration, but it will also be an opportunity to present the completed plans and spark some additional excitement about the project. Luke indicated he is unable to attend, which means my evening will be enjoyable and uncomplicated.
It’s Thursday, and since it will be Grant’s weekend with Amelia, he agrees to keep her an extra night. Honestly, his guilt makes him agree to anything I ask these days. He’s lucky it’s not in my nature to abuse this power. Amelia staying at Grant’s tonight means tomorrow will be the first time I haven’t dropped her off at school. It pains me how she has to split her time between us. It leads to all of us missing out on some things.
Since I don’t have to pick Amelia up from school today, there really isn’t any reason I have to go home before the party. It’s easier to bring a change of clothes and get ready in the bridal cottage, a space available for women getting married on the property. It’s a quaint little room, decorated in floral and lace.
Once I’m ready for the party, I return to my office to finish writing an email to Monica regarding a press release related to the expansion. When I log into my computer, I see an email from Aaron.
To: Jessica Rogers
From: Aaron Bennet
Subject: Investor Dinner
Hello Jessica,
I apologize, but I won’t be able to attend the dinner tonight. My mother is in the hospital. She should be okay, but I need to fly home to go see her. Please forgive my last-minute cancelation. I’ll try to make it down there again soon. I’ve sent an email directly to Mrs. Bianchi letting her know as well.
Aaron Bennet
Partner, AL Investing
I’m disappointed. I enjoy working with Aaron and was looking forward to seeing him tonight.
To: Aaron Bennet
From: Jessica Rogers
Subject: Re: Investor Dinner
Aaron,
I’m sorry you’re unable to attend this evening, but I completely understand. I hope your mom makes a full recovery. Of course you’re welcome to visit the winery anytime. Let me know when you plan to come to Temecula again, and I’ll make myself available for lunch.
Jessica Rogers
Controller, Bianchi Winery
I press send and finish typing my email to Monica. I’m about to shut down my computer when a notification pops up indicating Aaron has already replied.
To: Jessica Rogers
From: Aaron Bennet
Subject: Investor Dinner
Jessica,
Thank you, I will. I forgot to mention that Luke will be attending after all, so AL will still be represented. Hope tonight goes well.
Aaron Bennet
Partner, AL Investing
Luke and I are professionals. We will find a way to put our past behind us and work together. Keeping our distance from each other seems to be the best way we deal with each other, so that’s what we’ll have to do.
I shut down my computer and make one last assessment of my appearance in the mirror hanging on the back of my office door. The curls I placed in my hair this morning have relaxed into loose waves. My navy lace dress flatters my figure, but earlier I had debated whether it was too low cut for a work function. I decided it was professional enough, but now that I know Luke is coming, I feel self-conscious.
The dinner is being held in the barrel room. When I walk in, I’m taken aback by how beautiful it is. The room is set up with long banquet tables covered in white linens, white china, and sparkling crystal stemware. Each table is elegantly decorated with an abundance of white flowers in vases of varying heights and white candles. A jazz band is setting up in one corner of the room, and the service staff is finalizing the setting by lighting additional candles that have been perched on the wine barrels that line the walls. There are place cards on the tables. I quickly find mine and see I’m sitting next to Luke. I glance around, realize no one is paying attention to me, and switch cards before anyone takes notice.
Mr. and Mrs. Bianchi enter the room as I walk away from the scene of the crime.
“Jessica! How lovely to see you, my dear.” Mr. Bianchi embraces me and kisses me on the cheek.
“Mr. Bianchi, you’re more handsome every time I see you.” The Bianchis must be in their sixties, and they are an elegant couple. She is a classic beauty and is always impeccably put together. Tonight, she is wearing a stunning emerald-green dress with a matching necklace. Her long gray hair is swept up in a French twist. I wonder if I’ll ever have enough confidence to let my hair go completely gray. Mr. Bianchi looks effortless in a dignified black suit. They co-own the winery, but she is more involved in the day-to-day operations. He prefers to remain behind the scenes and handle more of their personal investments and finances.
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