Page 6 of Taken With You
She cupped the keys like a clutch of bird’s eggs but made no move toward the door. Her breathing was labored, her body unnaturally still.
“Amanda?”
She shook her head, muttering, “What am I thinking?”
Garrick’s stomach dropped. Did he push too hard? Did he lose her? He didn’t have time to find another vintner.
No other would match up, anyway.
Then, suddenly, she closed her fingers over the keys.
“Draw up the papers, Garrick. My answer is yes.”
CHAPTER THREE
“OMG, Amanda, listen to this!”
Flat on her back on the floor of the Cedar Ridge wine cellar, Amanda shot a glance at Maggie Johnson as her best friend dropped to a crouch beside her. Maggie brandished a screwdriver in one hand and a phone in the other.
Amanda took the screwdriver and looked askance at the phone. “Something tells me this isn’t good.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. Sadie Cello just tweeted aboutyou.”
Amanda winced as Maggie turned her screen around for Amanda’s viewing. Sadie Cello was the social media handle of a wine country insider with a huge industry following and a knife-sharp wit. Amanda would have preferred to remain far out of the gossip’s sights. “How bad is it?”
Maggie read. “‘Rumor has it that Amanda Karlson of Windsor Winery just flipped the bird to Bonchemin in favor of the top spot at Cedar Ridge—’”
“Flipped the bird?” Hadn’t she tendered her resignation like a pro? “I would hardly say—”
“Let me finish.” Maggie brushed a thumb to scroll her news feed. “‘Amanda Karlson…flipped the bird in favor of a top spot at Cedar Ridge, that musty cellar now resurrected from the dead by a mystery buyer. Whoever he is, he must like blondes.”
Her stomach dropped.Shit.She should have seen this coming, but this was apparently her week to be blindsided—and she just couldn’t deal with it now. Amanda tightened a screw on the valve she was adjusting beneath the fermentation tank then handed the tool back to Maggie. “Hand me that wrench, Mags.”
“Really? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“Harvest is coming, and this fermentation tank is off-line. Plus,” she added, seizing the wrench Mags offered and pointing the working end toward the cellar, where she’d discovered twelve oak barrels of three-year-old wine still aging, “that last vintage needs to be bottled, and—”
“Stop. You’re now officially a master vintner. Can’t you pause for a minute to enjoy it?”
“Not while some gossipmonger is suggesting I’m unqualified.” Amanda set the wrench on the nut and tightened. “Which I am.”
“Bull-oney. You were Windsor’s rising star, and they were fools for letting you go without a counteroffer.” Maggie turned toward the open door of the cellar, frowning. “If that mystery buyer were here, I’d tell him just that.”
“Is that why you dragged yourself up here on a Saturday afternoon to help me out?”
Maggie shot her a side-eye grin. “Who wouldn’t want a peek at the new buyer? Only you know who he is.”
“I hate to disappoint you, Mags, but he’s been in New York City all week.” Except when he called her at odd hours to hammer out details on the partnership agreement, an agreement that gave her a one-third interest in the winery, for which she’d be fully vested after eighteen months.
Her pulse surged again. Some mornings, she woke up in the cot she’d set up in the cave and couldn’t believe she was actuallyhere. In her own lab, her own winery, her own cave. She didn’t care that the fermentation tanks were outdated, the casks ancient, the equipment faulty, the lab counter cluttered with scratched glassware, scales, and expired chemicals that required environmentally sound disposal. Every ancient piece of equipment, every dent and nick and crack spoke, in her mind, of striving and honest effort and a history of loving labor. The winery was understocked and filthy, but it was hers.
Her father would be so proud. Her chest squeezed.
“Amanda,” Mags warned, “if you twist that nut any tighter, you’ll strip the threads.”
“Right.” She set aside the wrench and swiped the back of her arm across her brow, hoping Maggie would attribute her sudden tearing to dust. “Let’s hope that loose nut was the source of the leak. If not, I’ll have to order another tank and pray it’s delivered on time.”
“Nice dodge.” Maggie straightened and slipped her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “So there’s no chance you’ll tell me what he looks like?”
