by Hayes, Lane
I chuckled. “We don’t have time to make a second appetizer. This one will do. The spicier, the better. Trust me, no one notices bland treats any more than they notice a wallflower dressed in black hiding in the corner at a high school dance.”
“Hmph.” Levi washed his hands then came back to the island to finish chopping the onions. “So…did you read the recipe? What do you think?”
“It’s pretty straightforward. Listen, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I’m second generation Mexican. My mother and her sisters were fabulous cooks, and they never cracked open a cookbook. There’s a strong argument to be made that truly authentic recipes aren’t written down. What’s interesting is the scribbling on the side. This indicates that whoever tried to use the books made copious corrections. I’ve made countless variations of stuffed peppers over the years. This one is a lot like what I make.” I pointed at the open page then looked at Levi. “The spices are different, but everything else is standard and—now what’s wrong?”
Levi squeezed his eyes shut and stepped around the island. He flopped onto one of the barstools and buried his head in his arms. “I need a second. I think I rubbed chili guts in my eyes.”
I snickered at his self-deprecating tone and flat delivery. Then I tossed a dishtowel at him and gestured toward the refrigerator. “Help yourself to a beverage. I can handle things from here.”
“Are you nicely asking me to stay out of the way?”
“I am. You can entertain me with the story of your life. Where are you from?”
“Here.”
“Here as in Northern California or the Bay Area or—”
“Napa. I grew up a few blocks away from the diner, went to the elementary school on the corner of Pine and Walnut, and learned how to play ball at the park across the street from the bank. When my parents divorced, I moved with my mom to New Mexico to be closer to her family. I went to college in Maryland on a baseball scholarship, played in the minors for ten years for the Orioles. I even got called up to the big league a couple of times.”
I glanced up from my chore when he paused. “Is that a good thing?”
“It was at the time. I played third base and shortstop. Sometimes second in a pinch.”
“You’re speaking another language. What’s third stop?”
Levi hiked his foot on the rung of the barstool next to him and rested his elbow on his knee in a supremely relaxed pose. “Third base, not third stop, Geordie.”
“Mmhmm. What did you do after baseball?” I prodded.
“I came back to Cali and coached at a junior college in LA for a coupla years. Then I heard about the diner and I figured…what the hell? Sometimes it’s the unexpected fork in the road that leads you to where you’re supposed to go. Ya know what I mean?”
I pushed the peppers to the side and studied him for a moment. His lackadaisical bravado didn’t mesh with his sudden intensity. There was a glaring missing link in his story between coaching and buying a fading piece of his family’s history in the form of a restaurant he had no clue about how to run. My pointed look surely told him the omission had been noted. It was in my best interest to learn as much as possible if Wes was serious about investing in his place. I had to play it cool and ideally, not stare at his biceps.
“And your fork led you to this kitchen?”
“In a roundabout way, yeah…I guess it did.” He narrowed his gaze before continuing. “You’re giving me a funny look now. You don’t believe me?”
“Let’s just say I think it’s interesting that your fork in the road is paved with ancient cookbooks leading to a crusty old diner, which coincidentally happens to be down the road from a successful winery,” I said, not bothering to hide my skepticism.
So much for playing it cool. But now that I’d said it aloud, I had a feeling I might be on to something.
“Do you think I’m taking advantage of you?” he asked sharply.
I spared him an irritated grunt before bending to retrieve a mixing bowl from an open shelf on the island. I reminded myself that saying exactly what I thought wasn’t always necessary…or wise. Be nice, be nice, be nice.
But when I straightened my spine and spotted the slight curl on the right corner of his mouth that looked remarkably like a smirk, I gave up. There was a fine line between being nice and being taken for a fool. I smacked my hand on the countertop then waggled my forefinger at him like an irate grade school teacher.
“Yes, I do. I think you charmed Wes with your ‘prodigal son returns home to save the day’ story and a promise to use our wines exclusively. Like that’s a big fucking deal. I assure you it’s not. Especially if you’re serving stuffed fucking jalapeños. I could make these in my sleep,” I said through gritted teeth.
I was immediately mortified. If I thought quickly, I could turn my mini-rant into a joke. He seemed nice enough to go along with it to keep the pretense of a friendly cooking excursion going, but I had to say something and above all, I couldn’t break down. I was suddenly shaky and on the verge of unraveling at warp speed. I needed a song. Any song.
“Oookay. Are you all right?” Levi asked with a frown.
“I’m fine.” I hummed off-key and swallowed my tears as I paced to the other side of the island.
“Hey, I’m sorry, Geordie.”
That stopped me. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one having a moment. Please forgive me.”
Levi looked more alarmed than appeased by my manic grin. “The appetizer isn’t really important. Wes liked the idea—”
“And it’s a good one. Wes has a sense for these things. Mike always said so. He told me to trust Wes and I do.” I took a deep breath and went through my internal song list one more time, but it didn’t help. All I could think was…“But I don’t think he wanted a restaurant. That’s something I should have known. He should have told me—”
To my absolute horror, I cracked and let out a choked-sounding sob. My eyes widened, and my nostrils flared as I turned to the sink to wash my hands and hopefully pull myself together. Fast. I heard Levi move behind me and maybe even speak, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Geordie.”
I wiped my nose on my wrist then rinsed my hands again and took a cleansing breath before turning to Levi. “I’m sorry. Just…leave this with me. I’ll finish up on my own, and I promise to bring the best damn stuffed jalapeños you’ve ever had to the party tonight. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
My smile was far too tight to be convincing, but it wasn’t a bad effort. Unfortunately, Levi looked more worried than he had earlier and perhaps a bit shell-shocked.
“I’m not going anywhere, Geordie. You’re not gonna do this on your own,” he said softly. “Just tell me what you need. You don’t have to do any talking. I’ll keep you entertained with highlights from my baseball glory days. Sound like a plan?”
The kindness in his voice undid me. I knew he was talking about assembling the appetizers, but his words struck a fragile chord deep within me. Fuck, I was tired of being alone. Very tired.
I swallowed my sarcastic quip about baseball being the sports world’s equivalent to Xanax and nodded gratefully instead. “Yes. Thank you.”
We stared at each other for an awkward moment, sizing each other up. His ruggedly handsome exterior was nice for sure, but his likable demeanor and compassionate side made it difficult to push him away. At that very second, I appreciated his graceful show of respect and tact more than I could say. It made me think Wes had told him about Mike, but I didn’t want to ask. Not now.
“Are you gonna put me to work?” he asked in a low, soothing voice.
“Yes, but—” I hooked my thumb toward the portable speaker on the counter. “Do you mind if I turn on some music?”
“Great idea. What do ya got? Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin?”
I shot an “Oh, puh-leaze” look his way before pulling out my iPhone. “How do you feel about Oklahoma!?”
Levi furrowed his brow in confusion. �
�The state?”
“The musical, darling.”
“I have zero opinion about any musicals.”
I opened my jaw theatrically and then shook my head. “And just as I was beginning to warm up to you. It’s all right. I can help you with that. Prepare yourself for a life-altering experience.”
Levi set his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. I grinned in response and adjusted the volume to let the orchestral overture wash over the kitchen and echo off the walls. When the music soared to a crescendo, I glanced at my flabbergasted companion and burst into laughter. I hadn’t been alone with a relative stranger in a while. Sometimes I forgot that I was considered a weirdo in the world outside Conrad Winery. And I’d forgotten how freeing that could be.
We worked together in companionable silence for a while. I couldn’t tell if we were lost in our own thoughts or unsure of our ability to navigate with words. I was usually a genius at lighthearted chatter, but I’d accidentally ripped open a wound too close to the surface and needed time to regroup. Levi gave me exactly two minutes before he started talking. His conversation was breezy and free-flowing. He asked about the winery and our competition in the area and then shared childhood memories of local hotspots, lamenting the demise of a few of his favorites like the arcade on 5th Street and the pizza parlor two doors down.
I admired his technique. He mastered the art of skimming shallow topics with panache. He was engaging but undemanding. He didn’t ask personal questions or air his own dirty laundry. After two hours and four dozen canapés, I had to admit he was surprisingly refreshing company. I’d learned he was a former jock who liked junk food, comic books, and had a nostalgic streak. He learned that I loved musicals, spicy food, and the color red.
And with the strains of a beloved Rodgers and Hammerstein classic playing in the background while we assembled a familiar dish in a familiar kitchen, I allowed myself to become acquainted with a new voice. I heard the rise and fall of his breath and noted the contrasts in his animated speech and masculine tone. It didn’t occur to me until he’d left that I hadn’t been alone with a man who wasn’t a close friend or employee in over four years. He didn’t belong here, but I let him in. There was a good chance he’d never know that was a big fucking deal.
Chapter 3
The wine tasting room looked glorious. The giant spherical iron chandelier delineating the space cast a golden glow over the main bar on one end and the lounge area on the opposite side. Votive candles flickered on every surface from the barrel-topped tables and the bar to the mantel over the stone fireplace. The ambient lighting softened the modern-meets-old-world inspired architecture with its stone walls, glass, and steel wine shelving and contemporary fixtures. It lent an ethereal quality to the cavernous room that reminded me of a cathedral. Or a place of worship for wine lovers.
Tonight’s event was our yearly “Invitation only” party for loyal local customers. It was a casual tradition we’d started after we’d first opened the doors at Conrad Winery to thank the community for their support. We’d hosted dozens of wine and food pairing parties over the years. It was a fun way to promote local restaurants and artisans and raise money for charitable causes. The clinking of wineglasses and steady flow of conversation mixed with laughter were sure signs of another successful event.
Approximately one hundred guests milled about the tasting room, sampling foods paired with our best wines, while a pianist played American standards in the background. I leaned against the wall, tucked in a shadowy corner, and surveyed the elegantly-dressed crowd. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves, I mused as I sipped my Pinot. Danny and Ryan handled the bar, and Lauren and a few interns poured wine at the stations. I spotted Wes and Nick holding court with a group of wine connoisseurs near the arched door. I’d done my requisite round of hellos but if I didn’t get back out there soon, someone would come looking for me.
“What are you waiting for, Geordie bird?” Mike’s ghost whispered in my ear.
I didn’t bother to look for him. I’d stopped doing that a year after he’d passed away. But I loved that I could hear him so clearly. I loved that he stayed with me. I smiled and let out a soft sigh.
“I can’t decide what to sing. Sound of Music is always a winner, but perhaps I should try—”
“Grease,” Levi suggested out of the fucking blue. He chuckled when I jumped, and then he handed me a napkin to clean the burgundy liquid that sloshed over the rim of my wineglass.
“Where the hell did you come from? And why are you always sneaking up on me?” I asked irritably as I wrapped the napkin around the stem of my glass.
“I didn’t sneak up on you. You asked for a music suggestion, and I gave you one.”
“I wasn’t asking your opinion,” I huffed without heat. “I was talking to myself.”
“Again?”
“I’m always talking to myself.”
I lifted my glass to my lips to hide my involuntary hum of approval. Damn, he cleaned up nicely. His slicked-back hair and close-shaven hint of a beard went well with his white oxford button-down shirt, houndstooth blazer, and snug designer jeans. And holy hell…cowboy boots.
“People are gonna think you’re weird if you keep that up,” he singsonged playfully.
“I hope so. Weird is the ultimate badge of honor.” I raised my glass in a mock toast then gave him a lascivious once-over that was too flirty to be taken seriously. “You look very handsome. I wouldn’t think to pair a sophisticated jacket with ranch chic and yet, somehow you’ve made it work.”
Levi crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a slow-growing grin. The latent sensuality in the lazy upturn of his full lips fascinated me. Or maybe it was the cowboy boots.
“Thanks. I think.”
“Anytime. I should go.” I shoved my glass into his free hand then flung my yellow scarf over my shoulder and pinched my cheeks to add a touch of natural color before bowing theatrically. “Adieu. My audience awaits.”
“Hang on.” He stepped in front of me before I could escape. “I want to talk to you for a second.”
The billowy sleeves of my black tunic fluttered as I motioned for him to hurry. “What is it?”
“I didn’t have a chance to thank you for helping me out today. The stuffed jalapeños were a hit. And they went well with the wine.”
“You’re welcome. I know my peppers, and I know my Pinot. You were smart to print out a sample menu for La Vid. The font was all wrong, but it was still a nice touch,” I enthused. “Now excuse me while I—”
Levi grabbed my elbow to stop me. “La Vid?”
“It’s just a suggestion, of course, but I think a touch of Spanish flair would be well-received. Every other business in this town has the word vine or wine in it. La Vid would stand out. Think about it.”
“I will. What was wrong with the font?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
I grabbed my drink from his hand and took a small sip. “You used Helvetica, Levi. That’s almost as boring as Times New Roman.”
It didn’t seem possible, but his forehead creased a little more as his frown deepened. “At no point in my life did I ever think I’d ask this question at a party but…what font would you suggest?”
“Andale or Century Gothic. Or better yet, Monaco,” I replied without hesitation. “Something classy yet understated and sophisticated. That’s what you’re going for with your restaurant, correct?”
“Yes. Exactly. Wes told me you’re responsible for the overall aesthetic at Conrad Winery. Are you a budding designer on top of being a cabaret singer?”
I grinned at his teasing tone. “Yes and no. I have zero training in either endeavor, but I’m pretty damn good at both if I do say so myself.”
“And modest too,” he quipped.
“Modesty will get you nowhere. If you want something, you’d better speak up before someone else swoops in.”
“Agreed. I want something.” Levi inched closer, seeming suddenly larger than life. His shoulders were bro
ader, and his expression was more intense.
“What do you want?”
“I want to hire you.”
“Hire me?” I repeated. I licked my lips then lowered my gaze to keep from staring at him. I didn’t like what he did to me.
“Yes. Now probably isn’t the best time to talk but if you’re free next weekend, I—”
“Now is fine,” I intercepted, nodding absently when a guest waved at me.
“No, you’re working now, and I’m going to need your full attention when I try to convince you that you’re the man I need.”
Fuck, that sounded dirty. No, wait. It didn’t. I was doing that pervy thing again. I couldn’t spend five minutes in Levi’s company without my head going places it shouldn’t.
“I’m flattered, but I have a job.” I fingered the fringe on my scarf and took another sip.
“This would be more of a consultation gig. I could use an expert opinion on things like…font. Wes said you might be interested in taking on a project and—”
“Dammit!” I stomped my foot and shot an irritated glare in Wes’s direction. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Is nothing sacred anymore? What else did he say?”
Levi shrugged with faux nonchalance. “Honestly, not much. But I figured you were sizing me up today to get a feel for my business acumen.”
“And surely you were doing the same to me.” I grumbled, narrowing my eyes. “I’m going to kill Wes.”
Levi snickered. “Oh, come on. It’s better to be one hundred percent transparent, so I’m gonna just put everything on the table. I’m in over my head.”
“You certainly are. And that’s before attempting to take me on,” I scoffed. “Look, I told Wes I’d be neighborly and perhaps see if there was a fit between your fledgling business venture and ours. The truth is, I don’t think you have any idea what you’re doing. You’re charming and gregarious, and perhaps your magic cookbooks hold the key to your success. But you’re missing details that are crucial to starting a customer service enterprise.”