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Atley’s dry chuckle came from the shadows at the other end of the room and caused the fine hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. His voice was richer than dark chocolate and just as delicious. When did he get here? Or was he here the whole time?
I turned and picked him out of the dark. He leaned against a wall, hands in his pockets like he had all the time in the world. The brim of his cowboy hat hid his expression, and it irked me. I wanted to see if his jaw was hard and angry today or not.
“That’s what Blue Star’s prior owners told people. They thought it was more charming than the truth. It was a dancehall. It’s from a now-abandoned town down near the Blanco River in Comal County.” He straightened away from the wall and strolled toward us. The hollow clunk of his boot heels echoed through the soon-to-be tasting room. “It was a fiasco moving it here and getting it put in place. They had to take the building apart, put sections on flatbed trailers, then reassemble them here. We built a new foundation and ran electrical and plumbing all before they delivered it.”
He looked good enough to eat. His worn Wranglers highlighted his lean hips, strong thighs, and other key areas.With effort, I dragged my eyes north of his belt buckle. I shouldn’t ogle my brother’s employee and my coworker. It was in poor form.
“Why?” I asked, unsure that even a building this charming warranted that much effort to move and restore.
“More money than sense.” Atley shrugged, unconcerned with figuring out the vagaries of rich people. His expression was softer today, his clenched jaw relaxed. But it was a far cry from the open, enticing Atley I’d fallen for at the Dallas airport.
“Actually, the documents I got at the real estate closing said they wanted to make it a tasting room and wedding venue.” Wilson gave Atley a hard look that saiddon’t be an asshole, and I loved my brother for it.
“Is it all ready to go?” I couldn’t believe that. It looked far from ready. But a million times better than a pasture with cows standing in it looking at me like I was crazy to be shopping for semi-permanent buildings on my cell phone while on their grazing land.
Oh yes, yesterday I did that. I stood in a pasture and thought this would be a pretty place for a tasting room—er, tent—and a cow rendered her opinion by pooping right next to me. Nothing charming or picturesque about the plop-plop of a cow patty.
“Not quite. Beside the dirt, there’s this.” Atley led us toward the back and through a set of old doors that once cleaned would be so rustic chic I was having heart palpitations. “Back here is where the kitchen, if you want one, and the bathrooms go.”
Wilson and I followed him down a hall and through an open doorway. It was an unfinished bathroom. It had walls and ceiling, but no plumbing fixtures. Not a sink, mirror, or potty. They’d propped the stall doors and partitions in the corner, wrapped in plastic packaging next to boxes of tile.
Next door, the second bathroom sat waiting to be finished as well. It looked like the construction crew walked out mid-job, taking their tools and leaving everything else where it lay.
Numbness had replaced my cautious excitement as I let Wilson shepherd me in Atley’s wake to the other end of the hall and into the would-be kitchen. By the time this place was ready, Kate’s offer to film and Wilson and Cameron’s internet fame would be long gone. My best competitive advantage was slipping away and taking my chance to make a big splash in the wine business with it.
The kitchen was even farther from completion. It was a stark white box with nothing but commercial flooring and a massive vent hood hanging on one wall. There wasn’t a stove, oven, sink, dishwasher, or anything else.
“Shit.” My curse reverberated off the empty room’s unfinished drywall and bounced back in my face.
“They stopped at about ninety percent complete. It was a money thing. At the end, Blue Star was eating them alive. Between deferred maintenance and projects they started that got out of hand, they were going broke. The old owner went over budget by fifty percent on the house renovations, and everything snowballed after that.” Atley fixed his gaze on Wilson as he spoke.
My brother likely knew all this before he bought the ranch. Wilson didn’t get as wealthy as he was by not digging into the details. So Atley explained the situation for my benefit, but he didn’t want to look at me. Lovely.
“Looks like you two have ten percent to finish.” Wilson clapped Atley on the back and put an arm around my shoulders. It came across like a pep talk, veryGo team. You can do it.
In a daze, I let Wilson lead me back into the main room. The three of us stopped dead center in the dimly lit space.
“It will be expensive.” I worried my lower lip with my teeth.
“I can supply funds.” There was a cock to my brother’s head and a glint in his eyes that I knew. He was getting excited.
I suppressed the urge to answer with my own smile. Excitement didn’t change reality.
If Wilson got on board, the odds of pulling off a miracle increased exponentially. The Blue Star Winery rebrand would happen. We’d need to get creative and stick to a tight schedule, but it could happen in time to catch a ride on Vacation Dream Homes’s coattails.
I’d be able to make a name for myself in the wine business. A big enough splash in any industry could cause a tidal wave that brought job offers and opportunities. This would work.
Impulsively, I gave him a quick hug. “We’re doing this.”
“No. You, Atley, and Gabriel are doing this. The three of you are going to help each other bring all this to fruition. I’m leaving to go to California with Cameron next week, then after that, I’ve got the hard launch of the Bio-ID drugstore line. I’ll be putting out supply chain fires all month. There will barely be time to drink wine, let alone finish a build-out or plan a marketing strategy.”
My bloom of excitement withered. Wilson wouldn’t be helping; he’d be financing. And my brother didn’t throw away his hard-earned money on failures… even for family. No. That kind of thinking was self-sabotage. I locked down my doubts before they took over.
“Yes, sir.” The nod that accompanied Atley’s reply was barely perceptible. The tick in his jaw had reappeared, and his gray eyes looked as flat and dull as the dirty windows of the dancehall.
He wasn’t on board; he was doing the bare minimum to keep his job. Shit.
Hopefully Gabriel, the winemaker I’d yet to meet, would be more receptive to the rebrand.
