Page 7 of Let It Breathe
She did have a point. Since Sunridge Vineyards didn’t have an official tasting room yet, they’d been holding tastings in the winery itself. With barrels stacked everywhere, a drain running the length of the concrete floor, and the scent of fermenting grapes saturating the air, it was hardly the ambiance Reese wanted to create. Still, the hordes of wine tourists appearing each week assured Reese she was on the right track.
Mostly on the right track, she amended, looking at her cousin in the purple lace bra and sheer yellow blouse. Reese flipped the end of her own gold-brown ponytail over one shoulder and tried to keep her voice calm.
“Look, Larissa—we’re trying to build a professional reputation for Sunridge Vineyards, and part of that is looking like professionals. Not professional streetwalkers.”
Larissa folded her arms over her chest. “Is the baby opossum in your pocket part of our professional image?”
“I’m not working with the public right now. You are.” Reese touched the front of her flannel overshirt and felt the tiny creature stir. “I ran out of incubator space and he needed lunch.”
“You’re breastfeeding?”
“His bottle’s in my office. Come on, Larissa. Work with me here.”
“Fine.” Larissa sighed. “Do you need me to go raid your closet for a knee-length flannel shirt, or can I use my own wardrobe?”
“Your own clothes are fine.”
“Damn right they are. I just wore that kick-ass blue dress when I convinced the buyer for Anthony’s to start carrying our ’24 Pinot Noir and the ’25 Pinot Gris. That’s nearly thirty restaurants in the whole chain.”
Reese stared at her, stunned. “Wow. Larissa, that’s—great job.”
Larissa beamed, her cheeks pinkening. “Some of us just have what it takes to market wine.”
“Oh.” Reese’s tone flattened. “You slept with him.”
“So?”
Reese sighed. “Just change your top. Please? For me.”
“Fine. But only because you’re my third-favorite cousin.” With that, she sashayed out of the room.
It was best not to dwell on the fact that she was, in fact, Larissa’s only cousin. Larissa’s parents had run off to Bali when Larissa was fifteen and Reese was ready to graduate from high school. Larissa had stayed behind in the care of Reese’s parents, eventually following Reese to college and sticking around the vineyard to handle sales and marketing.
A knock on the door signaled the arrival of more wine-tasting visitors. Reese straightened her crewneck T-shirt and dusted some cracker crumbs off the bar. Larissa must’ve closed the door on her way out, so Reese strode over and opened it.
“Hello, welcome to?—”
The words died in her throat.
A jolt of recognition ran through her. But this wasn’t the same man she remembered trying to fill her livestock water trough with beer six years ago.
His face had thinned, with angles and planes replacing the mottled puffiness of his cheeks the last time she’d seen him.
The shoulders were still broad and his hair was still the same caramel shade, but it was shorter now—almost a buzz cut. And what was that tattoo peeking out from beneath his T-shirt sleeve?—
“Hello, Reese.”
The warmth in his voice made her stomach flip like it always used to. She would have known that voice anywhere. She was more familiar with the sound of it phoning from jail at two a.m., but still. She gripped the edge of the door harder and took a deep breath.
“Hello, Clay,” she said as levelly as she could manage. “Eric said you were back in town.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “So you know I’m the foreman on the project?”
She nodded. “And I know you got sober. Congratulations on that.”
“Thank you.”
His eyes dropped to her breasts, and Reese felt an unexpected flutter of desire. A pleasant tingle started under her sternum and sent a pulse of heat all the way to her nipples.
