Page 50 of Merlot Marriage

I’d been ready to race down to my cabin and see Ophie when he’d appeared at the back door, a dolly stacked with cases. After helping him wheel up another six stacks from the cellar beneath the main building, I’d felt obligated to stay and help him organize the upstairs storage.

“Hurts like a bitch, right?” Nate’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I saw a guy in Bordeaux get his whole hand crushed. It got caught under a dolly when we were packaging cases.”

“Damn. That sounds awful.” I shake my hand out again, the pain receding. “And, um…sorry? For the noise, I mean.”

“Better than hearing Kel and Maggie. Listening to your best friend have sex should be illegal.” He smirks as I hand him another case. “Unless you’re also participating, I guess.”

I burst out laughing. “You got me there, mate.”

I’ve never seen Nate this relaxed, but if he’s going to remove an inch of stick from his ass, I’ll take the mile. “How’s the growing going? Not sure what the right word is, but you know what I mean.”

“Crop is looking good so far, although I hope we don’t get too many more heat waves this summer. The pinots don’t tolerate the heat so well.”

We keep stacking and sorting the bottles as he waxes on about different grape varieties he wants to try that might do better with the changing climate. He’s downright chatty, like he hasn’t had a real conversation in months and has been bottling it all up with no one to talk to.

“How many people are you expecting at the wine club event this weekend? If you need some extra help, I could see if Ophie is free? She works at Latte Da, so she knows how to serve and work a crowd.”

In truth, I just want an excuse to keep her here a little longer. I missed waking up to the sound of her singing in the shower, or her arm being thrown across my chest in her sleep. I just miss her.

“Are you going to work or flirt?”

“We would be the utmost professionals.” I pause, shoving a couple of bottles deeper onto a shelf with a grunt. “Besides, it’s kind of a secret? And Maggie would be there…”

“Ah. I see.” Nate does that old-fashioned nose touch thing that I’ve never understood. “If she’s free, I’m sure we could use the help. Anything to keep the Sutton girl from being a nuisance. She’s hell-bent on working here, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold her off.”

Grabbing more bottles, I keep stacking them on the shelves. “Emma? Why are you so against her helping out? She seems eager enough, and she wouldn’t drive away customers with a grumpy attitude.”

“Touché.” Nate laughs. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him sound so human. “For starters, she’s not twenty-one yet, and she’d have to take a test and get a pourer’s permit, which we don’t have time for before Saturday. But most importantly, Sophie Sutton made me promise not to let her work here. Not until she graduates.”

He shakes his head, grunting as he stacks more wine. “I may not like the Suttons or the fact that they bought my home, but I’m not stupid enough to piss off Sophie. Especially when it comes to her kid.”

The last box unloaded, I follow Nate out of the storage room so he can lock up. He pockets his keys and starts off toward his cabin. I’m just a few steps behind when he turns around. “I’m going to shower and then head into town for a drink. Probably be gone for a couple hours. Hopefully, I can get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

He turns and is gone before I can answer, leaving me at the top of the path leading down to the cabins. I’m still chuckling as I open the front door. Ophie is sitting on the couch, her feet tucked up underneath her dress, laptop on her knees. Her hair is pulled up off her neck with a clip, one long strand that she must have missed trailing down her neck.

A hint of sweat dots her temples from the hot day, and her cheeks are flushed. The flush deepens when she looks up and sees me.

“Cassie knows—”

“Nate definitely knows—”

We both speak at the same time, choking off the words. “You told Cassie?”

Ophie sets her laptop on the coffee table, hugging her knees. “She guessed. Apparently, I need to work on my poker face.”

“So, what did you tell her?” I perch on the cushion beside her, letting my hand cover hers. When she’s silent for a moment, I flip her top hand over and lace my fingers with hers, my thumb tracing circles against her skin. “Ophie?”

“Nothing, really.”

I lift her hand and kiss it, my tongue slipping out to taste her skin. “Did you tell her it was the best sex of your life?”

A delicious grin tips her lips. “I told her it was amazing, yeah.”

I pull her closer, tucking our joined hands between my legs, her knees coming down on the couch beside my thigh as she resettles beside me. “Did you tell her we broke the bed?”

I pull her close and kiss her cheek, then her jaw.

She lets out a quiet sigh before answering. “No.”

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