Page 23 of Gone With the Wine

“I know what hockey is!” I laugh and give him a little push. Oh. He’s solid. Definitely.

“He was a professional hockey player,” Ana says. “With the Long Beach Golden Eagles. He was kind of famous.”

I blink. “Oh.” I look back at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow hockey. I didn’t recognize your name.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“So that’s what the hockey team analogy was about.” I tap my temple. “I like it. Different wines bring different attributes to a blend, like individual players on a team. And bringing them together elevates the game.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“Well, that’s cool. Okay, let’s go look at the animals.”

As we stroll, my head is now full of the surprising information that Jansen is a hockey player. Or used to be. That he’s famous. With hockey fans, I guess. I don’t know anything about hockey. Now I want to. Which is crazy.

“Definitely smells like a barn in here.” Jansen scrunches up his slightly-crooked nose.

“Don’t worry, the scent won’t stick to you after we leave.” On the Ferris wheel I noticed the seductive scent of his cologne, something that smells like walking into the perfume department at Saks.

He rolls his eyes.

We spend time admiring and petting bunnies, goats, sheep, and the cutest little pigs! Well, Jansen keeps his distance while the rest of us pet them and feed them the food they give us. Then we all make a quick stop in the bathrooms before returning to the wine lounge for another drink.

As we take our seats, a man stops in front of me. “Bianca?”

I meet his eyes. It’s Mark Watson, my high school boyfriend. “Mark! Hi!”

“I heard you’re back.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too!” He was—is?—a nice guy. He still wears his light brown hair in a neatly cut style and his eyes crinkle at the corners with his easy smile. If I’d stayed in Oak Creek Canyon, who knows what would have happened with us.

We do a little catch-up chit chat, then when I mention Caparelli, he says, “I heard that Geno’s contesting the will.”

Once again, I’m thrown. My mouth falls open. I shake my head. “I haven’t heard anything about that. I think the lawyers would let us know if he was.”

“Maybe he just plans to.” Mark shrugs. “That’s kind of awkward, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” Jeez. What the hell? I keep hearing all these things that are supposedly happening but aren’t. This is one reason I was happy to escape small town life. Everybody’s all up in everyone else’s business. Apparently that hasn’t changed here. “I’ll be having a talk with Geno soon.” I smile as if everything’s fine. “We’ll figure it all out.”

Why hasn’t Rosa told me about all these crazy rumors?

“How long are you here for?” he asks. “We should go out for a drink sometime.”

“Oh sure. That would be great. I’m not sure how long I’m here, but at least a couple of months. I said I’d help with harvest.”

“Okay. Give me your number, and I’ll text you.”

We exchange phone numbers.

When I turn around and sit down, I immediately feel Jansen’s eyes on me. He’s watching with a steady gaze and thin lips.

I smile. “Old boyfriend.” I wave a hand. “Years ago.”

“I should be going,” Jansen says. “I’ve got an early morning with my vineyard manager to check the grapes.”

Everyone agrees it’s time to call it a night and we all walk to the exit. Now it’s totally dark and all the lights in the trees and on the rides are so pretty. The faint screams of excited riders float on the breeze along with the music of the band that’s playing again.

“Where’d you park?” Ana asks me.

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