by Hayes, Lane
Tonight however, Geordie seemed like his old self. I pocketed my cell and smiled. “Are you leading a sing-along at dinner? What’s on your playlist tonight?”
“I’m glad you asked. I’m in the mood for holiday cheer,” he exclaimed, sashaying through the stone arch then pushing open the door leading to the garden.
Danny and I fell into step on either side of him as we headed down the well-lit gravel path toward Wes and Nick’s house. “It’s not even Halloween yet, Geordie. We should get ‘Monster Mash’ out of the way before we break out ‘Jingle Bells,’ ” Danny advised with a laugh.
“You can never start planning too soon. It takes ages to decorate properly, and then there are holiday-themed tastings and merchandise and parties…so much to do! I’m glad you’ll be here to enjoy it, Danny. Perhaps we can entice you to stay. You work on him, Ryan. Tell him how wonderful we are. I’m off! See you at dinner!”
“Wait. Where are you going?” I stopped in the middle of the path and watched Geordie scamper into the night. I was pretty sure he answered me with a faraway sounding “home,” but I couldn’t be sure.
“He’s funny.” Danny nudged my elbow but kept his gaze focused on the darkened trail in front of us.
I studied Danny’s profile for a moment. He had a straight nose, chiseled cheekbones, and a strong jaw. The end-of-day stubble gave him a sexy look I didn’t want to find attractive. But of course I did. And damn, he looked hot in the moonlight. Gorgeous even. The plaid shirt he’d thrown over the black tee he’d worn all day hugged his broad shoulders lovingly.
“Yeah, hysterical,” I replied sarcastically. “I don’t know why he suddenly had to race home but…come on.”
We walked in silence for a few minutes. The slight chill in the air was welcome after the warm day. If I wasn’t so aware of Danny, I wouldn’t have minded taking the long way around to enjoy the peaceful ambience under a sky full of stars. Not so much now. I picked up my pace as we approached the row of warehouse buildings where the grapes were processed and stored.
“Hey, what’s your hurry? Are you afraid they’re gonna run out of appetizers if we’re not the first ones there? Or are you trying to shake me?” he added with a mischievous grin as he yanked at my elbow and stopped in his tracks.
“No, but—”
“Then relax. Tell me about yourself or—whoa.” Danny furrowed his brow and stared at something in the distance. “Someone left the barn door open in the barrel room. And no, I’m not talking about your zipper.”
He strode purposefully toward the huge warehouse door and threw a puzzled frown at me before slipping inside. I hurried after him, pausing to flip the light switch, illuminating the cavernous space in a fluorescent blaze. I blinked wildly as my eyes acclimated.
“I forgot how bright it is under these lights,” I grumbled before yelling into the seemingly empty warehouse. “Is anybody here?”
No response.
“Stay here. I’ll check around,” Danny commanded.
Oh, hell no! I followed him down one row of industrial-sized steel vats and up the next. He stopped at a battered table at the back next to the reserve room and picked up a football someone had left there.
“There’s no one here,” I said, doing my best Captain Obvious impression. “I don’t have the keys, but the door will lock behind us. We can tell Wes about it when we get to his place. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Danny pulled his arm back as though he was about to unleash the ball then motioned for me to run backward. “Ready, set…hike! Move it, Haskell. Defense is closing. They can’t hold the pocket. You’re our only hope. You’ve gotta catch this. Run!”
Unbelievably, I obeyed. Well, I sort of did. I stepped back a few feet and turned around just as he launched the football. It hit me square in the chest and bounced somewhere behind me.
“Ow.”
“Come on, Ry. Pick up the pigskin and show me what you got,” he said, clapping excitedly.
I stooped to grab the ball and then held it in the crook of my arm. “I got nothing and we have to go. We’re going to be late if—”
“No, we’re not. We’re going to be the first ones there and while I’m all for being awarded the inaugural beer at any event, that doesn’t include work functions. We have at least fifteen minutes to kill. Pass the ball.”
“Um…okay. But I haven’t played football in a while. And that was youth league flag so I’m not sure it counts.” I cocked my arm back then stopped. “You know, I probably have a bad aim. This isn’t a good place to play.”
Danny set his hands on his hips and frowned. The fabric of his shirt billowed slightly, giving him an exaggerated look of a superhero with an impressive chest and a trim waist. “Dude, we’re surrounded by stainless steel. Unless you have a bionic arm to go with your terrible aim, I think we’re safe.”
I nodded. Why not? I pulled my arm back then unleashed the football in Danny’s general direction. I was off by a yard, but he lunged for it before it hit the nearest vat and then raised the ball above his head and swiped at his brow theatrically.
I chuckled at his hijinks. “I warned you.”
“You did indeed. Catch.” Danny twisted his body sideways and tucked his left knee toward his chest like a pro before launching the ball at me.
Much to my relief, I caught it easily this time. I rolled my eyes when he cheered a little too enthusiastically. Then I looked down at the threading, placing my pinky finger in the middle of the seam the way my brother taught me years ago before tossing it back to Danny. I felt a blush spread over my cheeks when he whooped with glee. His reaction was over-the-top and playful, but I was mortified that my traitorous body responded to him. He wasn’t flirting with me, for fuck’s sake. He was just being…Danny. A sexy, straight man with natural charisma and a talent for making whomever he was with feel like the only person in the room. I had to remind myself that we weren’t really friends. We were coworkers killing time.
I cleared my throat noisily and wracked my brain for a conversational tidbit that didn’t scream awkward—ideally one that kept my dick from pressing against the zipper on my Levis.
“Did you play football in college?”
“No. I played tennis,” he said as he tossed the ball back to me.
“Tennis?” I repeated, furrowing my brow. I always thought tennis players were long and lanky. Danny was lean but he had a more muscular build.
“Yep. I played through my junior year of college, and then I broke my legs in a skiing accident. My Wimbledon hopes were dashed for good. Do you play?”
“Yes. I’m not good, but I can get the ball over the net.”
Danny chuckled. “Then you’re halfway there.”
We tossed the football back and forth for another minute or so in companionable silence. The faint hum of the equipment and the slap of the pigskin on our palms were the only real sounds. Well, that and the drumbeat in my chest. What was wrong with me tonight?
“So…what are you going to do after you graduate?” It wasn’t my best attempt at chitchat, but it was better than staring at him like an idiot.
“Get a job, I hope.”
“Where? I mean, do you want to stay in California, or will you go home?” I asked, admiring his fluid movement as the ball left his fingers.
“I don’t know yet. My folks want me to stop this wine nonsense and go back home to work at the tennis club.”
“How does a degree in viticulture work with tennis?”
“My masters is in business too but…whatever. I’ll weigh my options when it’s time to decide. What did you do before you landed here?”
“I interned at a winery in Sonoma after grad school then—”
“Ah! So you were once the intern,” he said with a chuckle. “That must be why you’re so mean to me.”
“Mean? Oh, please. How am I mean?”
“Maybe that isn’t the right word. Bossy works better.”
I sputtered. “I’m supposed to be bossy, idiot. I’m your bos
s.”
“Technically, Geordie is my boss. You may be his right-hand man but—”
“Which makes me your boss.”
“Meh.”
“What is that noise supposed to mean?” I asked irritably.
“Nothing. It’s just—you’re a good guy, Ry. But I like you better when you don’t have a stick up your ass.”
I caught the ball and tucked it under my arm.
“That’s funny,” I snipped. “ ’Cause I don’t like you at all.”
Danny tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. Then he smiled. A slow-moving, lopsided, cocky-as-fuck grin that made me want to punch him and stick my tongue down his throat at the same time. Fucker.
“Yeah, you do. In fact, you like me so much you’re going to play tennis with me tomorrow.”
I snorted derisively. “What? No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
I gave him the exasperated look he deserved before cataloging a few of the reasons he was wrong.
“Sorry, I can’t. I’m working all day and even if I wasn’t, I don’t have a racket or tennis balls. Maybe another time.”
“I happen to know you don’t work until noon tomorrow and…I have an extra racket and more balls than you’d know what to do with,” he countered with a sexy smirk.
I was sure the double entendre was unintentional, but his smug expression and cocky delivery made me hard. Damn, this was not okay.
“Whatever you say,” I said dismissively. “We should go now and—”
“Give it ten more minutes. What do you do for fun on your days off?”
“Well, I don’t play tennis.”
“That changes tomorrow,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “But seriously…other than sharpening your sarcastic asshole skills, what do you like to do? I’m new in town. Point me in the right direction, boss. Where do the cool kids hang out?”
“Not with me.”
“I figured as much,” he quipped.
“Ha. Ha.”
Danny chuckled good-naturedly. “When I got here in June, there was a lot going on…wine festivals and preharvest fairs. Then harvest hit and it was a crazy whirlwind of twenty-hour workdays doing chores that were sometimes downright dangerous and now—”
“Dangerous?” I scoffed, tossing the ball in a high arc.
Danny caught it and dropped it on the cement floor then gestured wildly to one of the giant steel barrels. “I fell in a fucking vat, Ry! I had to tap into Agent 007 mode to save myself from drowning in grape juice! It was very dangerous.”
I busted up laughing. And once I started, it was hard to stop. His comedic delivery invited humor and frankly, the memory he’d conjured was fucking hysterical. He’d been helping to skim pulp from the surface of the giant barrel, lost his balance, and tumbled headfirst into the burgundy pool. It wasn’t funny at the time. Full-scale panic had broken out complete with screaming, crying, and general chaos. I’d had to remind myself this was all new to the interns and that a quick swim in grape gunk sometimes happened.
“Was it your James Bond alter-ego that saved you? ’Cause I’m pretty sure it was me.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “Your memory is off. You gave me a damp rag and yelled at me for being careless. You’re kinda heartless, Haskell.”
“And you’re pretty dramatic, Danny boy,” I snarked, giving myself a mental high-five when he scowled in return.
“Hmph. Whatever. Not my best day but my point is, I liked the nonstop activity. It’s jarring to go from that to being stuck in Snooze-ville, USA.”
“It’s not that bad.”
Danny shot me a “let’s get real” look then picked up the football and tossed it to me. “The day-to-day winery part is fun but when going to the boss’s house for dinner is the highlight of your weekend, you might as well throw in the towel and sign up for your AARP card. Do you have one of those yet?”
I snorted a half laugh and shook my head ruefully. “I still have a few years before I’m eligible.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty. How about you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Hmm. You’re Lauren’s age. You should ask her to play tennis with you. I have a feeling she’d say yes.”
Danny made a sideways lunge when my pass went wild. He picked the football up on the bounce and returned it to the table. “Do you think she has a crush on me?”
“I do.”
“You do?” he repeated, deliberately misunderstanding me. He widened his eyes and bit his bottom lip in a way that was far more appealing than it should have been. “Aw, shucks. I like you too, Ry.”
I snickered in spite of myself. “I’ve been pretty clear. I don’t like you. I put up with you. Remember?”
“You don’t mean it. You just don’t like having new people around, infringing on your domain. You put up with interns at harvest because you have to but in off-season, you’re a territorial little bastard, aren’t ya? You’re stuck with me through the holidays, so let’s bury the hatchet and agree to be buddies. What d’ya say?”
I glanced from Danny’s outstretched hand to his cocky expression suspiciously. I had a feeling I was being played. He was inserting himself into the role of mature coworker intent on taking the high road, which automatically made me feel like a schmuck. What the heck? A simple handshake didn’t really mean anything anyway.
Except the immediate jolt of awareness I felt when I slipped my hand in his was like being zinged with an electric prod. Buddies? This wasn’t going to be easy. Not when my instincts urged me to back him against the edge of the table, push myself between his thighs, and lick his full lips.
Not happening. I had to snap out of it. Fast.
“Yeah, sure,” I said nonchalantly, letting go of his hand.
“Good. Buddies it is! Let’s go to this work shindig, bud. And in the morning…we’re playing tennis.”
Danny clapped me on the back, good ol’ boy style then turned on his heels, leaving me to stare after him, wondering why it felt like he’d orchestrated this exchange and what, if anything, he really wanted from me. Because being buddies seemed like a long shot.
* * *
Wes Conrad bought a failing vineyard a dozen years ago with his best friend and business partner Mike and turned it into a thriving winery. Conrad wines were featured at high-end restaurants internationally. We were known for our Pinots and Cabernets, but we did it all. Reds, whites, blends. Hell, we even made a killer dessert wine. Conrad had made its mark as a Napa Valley must-visit for wine enthusiasts. Our sprawling grounds, including the state-of-the-art tasting room, were written up regularly in architecture magazines citing the genius environmentally-friendly design, marrying old-world stone with glass and steel. But most importantly, we were known for our kick-ass product and our friendly and knowledgeable staff.
Wes had always credited Conrad Winery’s “friendly face” to Mike, Geordie’s long-time partner. Wes had run the business while Mike dealt with the grapes. Mike had been my direct boss until he’d passed away a couple of years ago and in a way, he’d been a father figure too. He was probably the nicest guy I’d ever met. A big, barrel-chested man with a quick mind and twinkling eyes who’d loved to laugh. We all missed him terribly and certainly no one more than Geordie, but our little wine family was still going strong. Not quite the way I’d thought it might be, but still…a nice place to call home.
I swirled the burgundy contents in my glass and perused the familiar faces in Wes and Nick’s enormous family-style kitchen. Tonight’s dinner was an extended postharvest thank-you to Conrad’s year-round staff. There were maybe thirty of us, including a few “plus ones.” Some worked in the processing warehouse, a handful were from distribution or finance, and Geordie, Lauren, Danny, and I made up the tasting room crew. I spotted Wes and Nick chatting with Margaret, who’d taken Mike’s position a couple of years ago. The instant pang of jealousy was unwelcome. It sharpened when Wes snaked his arm around his boyfriend’s waist and pulled
him against his side.
Fine. I’d be the first to admit I was a jealous asshole, guilty of coveting things or people I had no right to. Like Margaret’s job and Nick’s man. Now, I definitely still wanted that job, but it made no sense that I felt anything but happy for Wes. I never really stood a chance with him and though Nick was an oddball, he and Wes complemented each other well. They were both tall, handsome, and successful. Wes was down-to-earth but savvy in his own way while Nick was…different. Under his slick suits and model looks, Nick had to be the biggest nerd I’d ever met. He had a habit of zoning out then racing to write a complicated equation on bits of paper he left everywhere, including the bar in the tasting room. Nick co-owned a Silicon Valley tech firm with his best friend, Eric. He didn’t know the first thing about wine, not that Wes cared. Wes was head over heels for his absent-minded professor. And the way he looked at him spoke volumes.
Kind of like the way Lauren was gazing at Danny now, I mused as I grabbed a slice of cheese from the platter on the island. I barely resisted the urge to stick my finger down my throat when she fluttered her eyelashes and giggled at something he said. I rolled my eyes and popped the cheese into my mouth just as someone bumped my hip.
“How are you, darling? What are you lo—oh. Silly Lauren. Ever since she broke up with that cute paramedic, she’s been looking for love in all the wrong places,” Geordie singsonged.
“You mean Danny?” I asked, shamelessly using the excuse to gawk at him once more before turning back to Geordie. “He can’t help himself. He’s a flirt.”
“True, and there is certainly nothing wrong with a little harmless flirtation, but she’s obviously not noticing that he’s got eyes for someone else.”