Page 13 of Taken With You
Shelley broke the connection. Amanda stared down at the screen as her mind tried to catch up to what she’d heard. Then, as if summoned by her thoughts, she heard Garrick arrive to greet Miguel by the truck. She tucked her phone in her back pocket and squinted into the beating sunshine. Miguel stood in the flatbed, one arm resting on the top of a cask. Garrick stood on solid ground, in khaki shorts and a polo shirt, his dark hair wet and brushed back.
No doubt he’d taken a shower in the shared bathroom down the hall upstairs in the cabin, the one that smelled of his menthol shaving cream.
Two sets of eyes turned to her as she emerged out of the shadow of the canopy. Predictably, Miguel straightened up to pose to maximum advantage.
Garrick granted her a half-smile. “There you are. Miguel told me he’s bringing in the first of the harvest tomorrow.”
“Yes. I checked the grape sugar levels on the east slope last night. They’re at peak ripeness, twenty-two degrees Brix.”
“What did I tell you?” Miguel patted his heart with dreamy pleasure. “She respects the harvest like no one else.”
“On another matter.” She crossed her arms and pinned Garrick with a look. “I just got a call from New York.”
He grimaced. “From Shelley, I bet.”
“Apparently, there’s a reporter coming tomorrow. From the CWA.”
Miguel whooped. “For an interview?”
“Yes.”
“That’s great news,” Miguel said. “Old Brunichelli would be proud.”
“And prepared,” she added. “Mr. Brunichelli would have been well prepared, and made sure all his workers were, too.”
“Which is why I’m here.” Garrick shoved his hands in his pockets. He tilted his head toward the switchback stairs that led up to the cabin. “Let’s talk about this interview over lunch.”
Miguel shifted his stance where he stood atop the flatbed. She knew he’d been looking forward to spending the lunch break with her. Miguel flirted like other men breathed, and yet somehow never gave offense. “Lunch won’t work,” she said “I have things to do while Miguel is here—”
“This can’t wait.”
“Not until tonight?” They were living together, after all.
He said, “Not another moment.”
The resolve in his voice gave her pause. She knew how important the interview was, yet he’d delayed telling her. So why the sudden urgency? Curiosity swelled as he pulled a face, flexed his hands in his pockets, and hardened his impressive jaw.
“All right.” She slid her phone in her back pocket. “Miguel, would you mind taking care of the rest of the casks?”
“No problem.”
Garrick headed toward the switchback stairs that led to the cabin on the upper terrace. She wiped dirty hands on her shorts and, shrugging at a baffled Miguel, followed. A breeze came over the ridge, bringing with it the slightest scent of the sea into the silence as she fell into pace beside him.
“What’s this all about, Garrick?” she said, once out of earshot of Miguel. “We could have talked later.”
“Preparation will require more time than you think.” The buzzing of the cicadas intensified as they stepped up the slope into the coolness of the canopy of trees. “I owe you a confession, Amanda.”
”Confession?” She grasped the railing.
“The truth is,”—he said, squinting at distant horizons—“I know absolutely nothing about wine.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Garrick headed up the slope beyond the cabin. His goal for today’s picnic was a small clearing on the edge of the Cedar Ridge holdings where a cluster of eucalyptus trees stood like sentinels at the height of the weatherworn ridge. Amanda followed him, still stunned to silence, not even raising her head long enough for him to see the freckles that sunshine had smeared across her nose.
Yeah, he’d given her a shock. Hell, he sure hadn’t wanted to tell her. Especially in front of the intensely interested Miguel. Coming upon the two of them working together made him wonder if the synchronicity he sensed meant the work-hardened, sun-bronzed Miguel was more than just an admiring colleague.
Not that it was any of his damn business.
