Page 11 of Let It Breathe
“Aren’t you the sweetest,” one of them twittered. “Don’t worry, though, I only took tiny sips of everything since we all agreed ahead of time that?—”
The door closed behind them before Reese got to hear the end of the sentence. Was that really Clay Henderson giving a lecture on sober driving?
“Was that really Clay Henderson giving a lecture on sober driving?” Larissa burst into the winery wearing a V-neck sweater that—thankfully—only showed the top quarter inch of her bra.
Startled, Reese began gathering up the glasses as Larissa tucked the white wines back in the chiller. “Yes, it was.”
“God, he’s still hot. Hotter than he was five years ago, and he was damn hot then. What’s he doing here?”
“Working, believe it or not.” Reese moved toward the kitchenette with Larissa on her heels, eager for details.
“No joke? He’s working here? Better lock up the good stuff.”
“He’s not working in the winery, he’s building the tasting room. And he’s not drinking, either. He went to rehab.”
Larissa blinked. “Wow, that’s hard to believe. He used to be wild. I remember one time?—”
“Larissa, could you hold down the fort in the tasting room for the rest of the afternoon?” Reese interrupted. “I told Clay I’d show him around, give him the lay of the land.”
Her cousin gave a wicked grin. “Considering the way those women were sizing him up, you won’t be the only one offering him a lay.”
“God, that’s just what he needs.” Reese gritted her teeth. “Sexual harassment from our customers while he tries to get his life back on track.”
“Clay’s a big boy. I’m sure he can handle it.”
Reese nodded, annoyed with herself for feeling irritated at the thought of Clay handling anyone. “So you’ve got the tasting room covered?”
“No problem.”
“Oh, and FYI—Dick Smart at Larchwood is back to telling people our tasting room is never open. We need to have another talk with him.”
“Asshole.”
“Pretty much.”
“I’ll pay him a visit. He likes staring at my legs. Maybe if I distract him, he won’t notice when I hit him over the head with a bottle of Chardonnay.”
“Thank you.” Reese paused, her hands frozen in the soapy water clutching a wineglass. “Hey, Larissa?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think I’m miserable?”
Larissa looked surprised, then studied Reese long enough to assure her the answer wasn’t a simple no.
“Miserable how? I mean, you could add some highlights so your hair isn’t so brown and blah, and you’ve got those great boobs no one ever sees since you’re always wearing those baggy shirts?—”
“I don’t think he meant miserable looking, but thank you for that.”
“He who?”
“He Eric.” Reese toweled off the glasses and avoided her cousin’s eyes. “He said I work too much and my life has stagnated and I need to find passion and excitement and start dating again so I can be ridiculously happy like he and Sheila are.”
“He got the ridiculous part right.” Larissa paused. “I thought you never wanted to get married again.”
“I don’t.”
Much, Reese amended silently, thinking about the scene she’d witnessed behind the barn after breakfast. Her mother had been teaching her father to play smashball with the wooden paddles they’d bought for family events at the vineyard. Her dad had said something that made her mom throw her head back and laugh before Jed grabbed her around the waist, swooping her in circles until they both toppled laughing into the grass.
