Page 18 of Taken With You
“I was going for a ‘shroud of mystery’ vibe.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his gray slacks. “After that incident in the wine cellar, I thought it best to shut the hell up.”
Those deliciously moist lips twitched. “Brodin did flick a brow when you suggested calling the police.”
“How was I to know a wine thief is something you use to draw wine out of barrels?”
“You rescued yourself. He figured it was a lame joke. I’m just glad I found the device before they realized you didn’t know what I was talking about.” She tucked her sunglasses in a pocket of her shoulder bag. “Brace yourself to be called eccentric in the article. Most winery owners are, anyway.”
“He’s lucky he got out of here without a bruise.” He wandered a little closer but kept his hands in his pockets. “I almost threw him out when he used the words ‘youth and inexperience’ in your presence.”
She shrugged. “He asked the hard questions.” She tucked a loose strand of hair back into the twist at the nape of her neck. “People are going to wonder why you hired me. This was an opportunity to address the obvious.”
He leaned in just to smell the scent of sunshine in her hair. “Well done, Amanda.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Right back at you.”
A ripple of communal admiration passed between them. He held onto it, told himself it was professional appreciation. Every day, he missed the balance that came with having somebody to conspire with, lean on, bounce ideas off of, and make decisions with. He missed sharing the burden with someone he trusted. He just wasn’t used to the feeling being tangled up physical attraction.
Why, when it came to Amanda, couldn’t he keep sharp, no-cross boundaries?
“I have to get back to the winery.” She tilted her head toward the front door of the cabin. “The forecast is for hot weather for the next few days, so we have to accelerate the harvest or risk the sugar content dropping.”
He nodded. “I glimpsed Miguel pulling up a gondola full of grapes outside the cellar door a few minutes ago.”
“Probably two loads there by now.” She paused, tilting her head in speculation. “You wouldn’t have anything planned for the afternoon, would you?”
“Nothing that can’t be put off.” That was a damn lie. With the three-hour time difference between California and New York, the morning and early afternoon were his busiest hours. But when Amanda tilted her head like that, all rational thinking stopped.
“We could use some help.” Her perusal slid over him in a way that made his blood run hot. “Instead of wearing yourself out by rock-climbing, what would you think about indulging in a little honest manual labor for the sake of the winery?”
“Sure.” Honest, sweaty labor might be the solution to getting her out of his head. “I’m all yours.”
Her eyes danced. “As a businessman, you should never sign a contract without reading all the terms.”
“I trust you.”
“Then you’re hired.” She ducked away and pulled open the front door. “Meet me at the crush pad and grab a shovel.”
***
Amanda tried not to stare. But she could sort stems and leaves from the gleaming piles of harvested grapes in her sleep, so there was nothing to distract her from the sight of a shirtless Garrick Kane.
He straightened up from his labors, planting the blade of his shovel on the concrete floor so he could wipe his brow with the back of his muscled forearm. His shoulders flexed with exertion in ways that had become familiar to her over the course of the unsettling afternoon. Raising his chin, Garrick flashed her a grin. With a sudden exhale, she returned her attention to pulling leaves off the grapes.
“Have I mentioned,” Garrick said, loud enough to be heard by the crowd above the hum of the crusher, “how disappointed I am that we’re not stomping grapes with our feet?”
“Spoken like someone who’s never done it,” said Miguel, standing across from Garrick in his own shirtless glory. “Brunichelli used to have a huge vat for that. But I’m glad he gave it up. This crusher was his one nod to modern ways.”
“Ah,” Garrick said with a shake of his head, “the death of romance.”
Miguel laughed, and so did everyone else up and down the sorting line, every other worker equally amused or transfixed. She knew it wasn’t every day the owner of a winery broke a sweat alongside his cellar rats during harvest. And two beautifully proportioned men competing to fill the loader kept everyone’s mind off the day’s waning heat and the swirl of fruit flies.
She pulled her sticky hands out of the bin of grapes and stepped out from under the canopy to squint at the dimming sky. Pink clouds swirled against the pale blue horizon, and the mountains in the distance had taken on a sharp, inky hue. A flash of white brought her attention to the far end of the drive, where caterers had set up a long communal table for dinner. One of them waved a napkin in her direction, and Amanda nodded. The savory scent of rosemary chicken cut through the sweet aroma of crushed grapes.
“All right, guys.” She turned to the crew she’d hired at the last minute, a motley group of graduate students, middle-aged enthusiasts, and a few high school kids eager to earn pizza money. “We’ve got a few hours still ahead of us, so let’s take an hour break to enjoy the dinner, compliments of Cedar Ridge.”
With a rousing cheer, the formation broke up. In groups, they wandered toward one of three hoses beside the main barn to clean their sticky hands and wipe the debris off their clothes. Garrick and Miguel remained, grinning as they shoveled rapidly to finish a sorted bin, throwing teasing taunts at each other. What a puzzle Garrick was. She’d expected him to join them for show, dig in like a good owner for an hour or two, and then retreat to his cabin to take care of more important work. The fact that he’d stayed and enjoyed the camaraderie made a muddle of her thoughts about the man.
Not that she should be thinking about him at all, as a man.
