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“We need nine more.” I handed him back his paperwork.
“We ain’t got ‘em. Big festival in Kyle this weekend. The yard is empty.”
Oh shit. I couldn’t suppress my ironic chuckle at the pun. Nothing like a full-blown crisis. It was better than a shot of espresso to sharpen the focus early in the morning.
“I guess put it over there.” I pointed to a gravel pad that was halfway between the parking area and the dancehall. Thankfully, the two handwashing stations Rae ordered were on the back of the trailer, so at least we had them.
“Got it. Wish I could be more help. I’ll let my boss know about the mistake.” The truck rumbled through the parking area at low speed. While my brain kicked into overdrive, possible solutions took shape.
Rae’s minivan stopped in a cloud of dust in the spot the truck had just vacated. Her door sprung open, almost hitting me in the gut. The Phillips siblings had a knack for driving fast and furious when a crisis arose.
“Where are the rest?” She wasn’t shouting but was right on the edge.
“Morning, darling.” I savored the scent of roses and Rae like some pathetic stalker. It was better than morning dew or fresh coffee. For a split second, I considered grabbing her and kissing the hell out of her. But I no longer had that privilege. I’d broken the rules, lost my shit on her, and was now banished from her bed… or rather her body. I’d never been welcome in her bed.
Fuck, I was an idiot. This woman was worth whatever I had to give up to earn even a moment of her time.
“No, no, no. We don’t have time for ‘morning, darling.’ I need shitters.” She waved a half-empty mug of coffee at the guy unloading the trailer. Her voice edged closer and closer to shouting with each word.
“Calm down.”
She spun back to me, almost spilling her coffee down my chest. “In the history of the world, has telling someone to calm down ever worked? Allow me to answer for you. No.”
She wasn’t wrong about that. So, I was an even bigger idiot than I’d been seconds ago.
I’d only wanted her to stop panicking long enough to answer a few questions and listen to my idea.
“I’m sorry about that.” Honestly, I was.
Rae rolled her eyes and pulled out her cell phone, ignoring me for the device.
She must have rushed from the guest house when the alert came from the gate. Her yoga pants and oversized top that slipped off her bare shoulder were wrinkled like she’d slept in them. The soft slope of her shoulder looked lickable, and her half-brushed hair made me itch to smooth the wayward strands.
“Don’t bother calling the company. The driver said they are all out.” I tried to temper the news with the most pleasant tone of voice I could.
A small, evil voice from the blackest, ugliest part of my soul pointed out that if I wanted to ruin the day, this was my golden opportunity. A bad soft open was a perfect way to destroy the venue’s reputation. The Elmer gossip chain would crucify this place. I could walk away, wish her luck, and let her handle it. If she failed, so be it. No tourists. No tasting room.
I stifled a groan. Nope, not doing it.
I didn’t want her to fail. I wanted her to succeed. Kick ass. Earn her place at a big Napa Valley winery. She was doing what most of us in our forties weren’t brave enough to do. She was reinventing her life. And no matter my opinions about the tasting room and all the people tromping across Blue Star land, I’d help her fly to new heights.
“So we’re fucked unless Google finds us an alternative.”
Was it wrong that her not crying but searching for a solution was turning me on? Damn, she was an incredible woman. She deserved more than an ornery cowboy like me.
“Did you call Big Willie’s Movable Toilets before this Austin outfit?” Willie was the only port-a-potty guy in Elmer, and he was only successful because of the lack of competition.
“Yes, he said he couldn’t help me.” She rolled her eyes at me again, to signal I’d asked the dumbest question yet this morning.
“Why did he say no?” Lazy-ass Willie was what they really should call him.
“I didn’t give him the third degree. I said thank you for your time and hung up.”
“Give me a second.” I pulled up Big Willie Compton’s personal cell number and clicked call. It rang and rang. Please, not voice mail. I willed the lazy bastard to pick up.
“Christ on a cracker. Rivers, do you know how early it is?” His annoyance and the phlegm he coughed up made me wince.
“Sun’s up, I’m up. I need nine shitters, Willie.”
