I’m overcome with the urge towhimper.
Hannahahems into her hand, and I suddenly remember we’re not alone. My face flushes, this time in embarrassment, and I let go of her wrist. I have a whole session in my Small Business Owners 101 course on treating your staff with compassion and respect that both HannahandRiver took, and now they’re seeing me do the exact opposite. I suck in a breath and step firmly out of Laine’s face.
Especially since she’s still clutching shears.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Hannah, River, and Bowie, anddefinitelynot Laine. “Just talking … farm stuff.” I swallow around the knot of desire and fury lodged in my throat.
“Farm stuff, huh,” River says. Laine and I both shift our gazes, a bit sheepishly. Hannah, bless her, smooths the tension over with a bright smile. “Laine, right? I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Hannah Tate, and this is my son Bowie. You already know River?”
Laine pauses and punches out a short breath. “That I do. Hey, River, good to see you, man.” Her eyes flicker over to Hannah, and a spike of jealousy surges inside me as Laine’s gaze softens. “Nice to meet you, Hannah. I’m sorry, too. Me and the boss here don’t always see eye to eye.” Laine shrugs, then gives Hannah a crooked, cocky smile. “Guess I’m used to doing things the Napa way.”
Oh,look. I want to murder her again!
“Yes, Laine often forgets we’re inBlue Ridge, which has an entirely differentclimate. We get frosts well into May here in Northern Georgia. Which funnily enough”—I raise a finger to the sky—“isnotCalifornia!”
I’ll be professional next time.
“That’s for fucking sure,” Laine mutters through her clenched jaw. Then, with a smile that looks like an insult, she says louder, “Okay, boss. I’ll delay the rest of the pruning if you say so.”
“I say so,Beave.”
Everyone frowns. “Big Vintner Energy? BVE?”Ugh. Is there anything more awkward than having to explain a bad joke? Nothing to do except own it now. I gesture at Laine. “Beave.”
Laine raises both hands with afuck thissmile and walks away from me backward. “Got it. If you don’t mind, I’ve got more farm stuff to do.”
I hope she trips. But not with the shears. That’d be too graphic.
“See you around, Laine!” Hannah calls. “If you’re free, some of the local queer community’s meeting up at the new wine bar downtown later this week.”
Laine salutes and turns away, and I spin on Hannah.
“Why did you do that?!”
She grimaces. “Sorry, but she’s new here, and I know how hard that can be. Besides, maybe you two just need to bond?” She laughs nervously, grabs Bowie, and books it toward the winery.
I sigh, emptying my soul into it. I know she can’t help it. Hannah’s physically unable to be rude. It’s cute most of the time, but the Queer Mountaineers ismine. I refuse to share another sacred thing with Laine, only for her to hate it, too.
After Hannah, River, and Bowie leave, I stew in my office, puzzling over the encounter. What was with that boss comment Laine made, anyway? Did she think I’d sayno, haha, never mind, I’m your sweet little bottom, sorr-eeee!
Or did shewantme to say yes? Did she want me to sayyes, I’m your fucking boss, now do as I say, then grind her beneath my heel? The thought makes my mouth go dry, and a trail of goose bumps alights on my arms because I—I think shedid.
The sound of stomping feet passing by my office toward the winery snaps me back to present. They land with a distinctly pissy quality, telling me who it is before she passes my open door.
“Laine, come in. Need to talk to you.”
Laine heaves a sigh from the hallway. “Don’t worry, boss. I won’t go to your little queer club,” she says, enough ice in her tone to make me wince. “Now, can we be done for the day, or are there more things you’d like to criticize?”
“Comein,” I repeat, refusing to take the argument-bait she’s dangling in front of me. “Please?”
Laine pivots on the spot with rigid compliance and moves a miserly inch into my office. “What.”
“Goddammit, Laine, just come in and sit down.” She’s not making this easy on me, that’s for sure. These hot and cold reactions leave my head spinning. She absolutely hates being told what to do until suddenly, out of nowhere, it seems to … turn heron? She goes fromfuck thistofuck meand back so fast I’m not even sure it happened.
Judging by the muscle ticking in her jaw right now, she’s firmly infuck thisterritory, and I have about thirty seconds before she leaves, whether I’m done talking or not. She drops into the chair across from me, folds her arms over her chest, and spreads her legs wide, taking up as much space in my small office as she possibly can. This is intimidation, pure and simple.
I wish I didn’t like it so much.
Like applying pressure to a bleeding wound, I try to staunch the horny thoughts flowing right now. But Laine’s words out there rattled me, igniting an electric energy between us that refuses to dissipate—halfwanna fight, halfwanna fuck, and 100 percenttry me.
