Page 4 of Damaged Billionaire Daddy
But I was already out here and might as well see what all the hype was about. Everyone who tried this place had been giving it rave reviews.
“Now, sir…” The phone started to break up, as I pulled into what I assume was the winery. For a place that, supposedly,did so well, it looked pretty beat up to me.
The stone on the outside was old and reminded me of an antique store. There was a small balcony out in the front and a few cars lined out around it.
There was no driveway, just gravel and a sign in the front of the building.
What century did I just enter?
Since I could hardly understand Andrea anyway, I ended the call and stuffed my phone into my pocket before killing my engine and throwing my door open.
It was clear that I didn’t belong here with my expensive haircut, designer clothes, and foreign car, but that was not going to stop me from going inside even if my expectations weren’t high.
The inside was bubbling with energy the second that I entered.People were laughing and chatting in a way that they don’t do back in the city.
Image is everything in New York, but I don’t think that applies here, considering half the people here looked like they were still in their pajamas from this morning.
“Well, hey there.” A girl stepped in front of me. She looked straight out of a western movie, and I didn’t necessarily mean that in a good way. Her hair was long and stringy, pulled into two separate pigtails. She was wearing a long sleeve flannel shirt with bootcut pants and boots that looked far too big on her. Her face was round and boyish, so I can’t imagine that she’s too old. Her teeth were crooked and white, and her gums were visible big time when she smiled. “I haven’t seen you around here before.” Even her accent was thick. “Is this going to be for here or to go?”
The atmosphere actually wasn’t horrible, but I could never imagine staying here to eat even if the smell of food and wine was a bit alluring. “I’m here to meet with Charles Quinn,” I told her.
“And your name?”
“Richard Lane.”
Her entire demeanor changed as she looked over me. I’d noticed her briefly checking me out before, but this time she didn’t hold back, eyes scanning my body incredibly hard before she gives me another one of those toothy grins.
“I know who you are. You are that football guy who went into business. I saw you on television.”
“Uh-huh,” I hummed.
“You’re even better looking up close.” I raised an eyebrow at her. I was used to this kind of reaction from women, but wasn’t she supposed to be professional when she’s working? Besides, I was not looking to add a woman in my life that lasts longer than a night, and even if I were, it wouldn’t be her.
“Where is Mr. Quinn?”
“I’ll go grab him right now.”
She disappeared to the back of the store, and I glanced down at my phone. I couldn’t wait to be on the plane back home.
I was all about trying new things, but this was the farthest from my scene I was sure I could go. I’ll taste the wine, tell him my thoughts, and then go home.
“You can follow me,” the blonde said and gestured at me. I fixed my suit and followed her down to the cellar. “How long will you be in town?” She looked hopeful, as she stared at me with the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen.
I’m not interested.“Not long enough.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, and her jaw dropped. She seemed like she wanted to say something but stopped as an older man came into view.
He had a cane in one hand and was wearing nearly the exact same clothes as the girl. A blue flannel, tucked into khakis and some boots.
His hair, or what’s left of it, was brushed to the back, and he had a huge smile on his face. His gaze turned to the girl.
“You can go now, Nicole.” Once she was gone, he looked at me again. “You must be Richie?”
The way he said my name made me want to snarl, but I withheld. I only let my friends call me that, and even that was not a long list. He held his hand out, and I shook it. “Richard Lane.”
“No need for formalities here. You can just call me Charlie.”
“I prefer Richard.”
