Greg is unmoved.
With a sigh, I say, “Fine. Go ahead and dock my pay and I’ll cover the cost myself. Theseareour selections.”
He doesn’t say another word to me as we set up the room.
At 11:30 sharp, he opens the doors to a line of people waiting to get in. It doesn’t take long for the room to fill up, guests seated both inside and out on the shaded patio. I work my way from table to table with the waitstaff, describing the wines, tossing out tidbits about the vineyard, and mentioning the winery’s anniversary. Outside, a silver-haired couple stops me to ask about the red they’re sipping. It’s the priciest wine on today’s list, but that doesn’t stop them from picking my brain about every last nuance and enjoying their glasses to the last drop.
As I stride back inside and join Greg at the bar, I feel a pang of pride. He has a line of guests to ring up for purchases, and to my delight, most every bottle he sells is from the high-end line that I selected.He gives me a side-eye, smiling a little bit, and I take that as a truce.
Just then, the couple I’d been speaking to earlier comes up and orders a few cases of the Elite Reserve—our most expensive wine. For their daughter’s upcoming wedding, they tell me, and an extra bottle for their own anniversary at the end of the month.
“How wonderful. Congratulations to your whole family,” I say warmly.
Cocking my head, I watch Greg flick his eyes up good-naturedly as he completes the sale and arranges for some of the waitstaff to help load the cases into the couple’s car.
“Okay, okay,” he finally says. “You were clearly right about the selection and the anniversary thing. I’ve never had so many people mention the winery’s anniversary before.”
“Probably because you don’t celebrate it. Hopefully, that changes after today.”
He laughs. “I’m sure it will.” He swipes the credit card of another guest ordering multiple cases of wine, then lowers his voice. “Just between us, we used to have a staff member who did a bang-up job planning the wine lists, but her replacement is a bit of an idiot.”
As if on cue, Jessica walks in wearing a dress much too short to do actual work in.
“Speak of the devil,” Greg murmurs under his breath.
She makes her way toward us, her expression morphing from cocky confidence to shock as she takes in the open bottles of pricy wine on the bar. Beelining straight to Greg, she scowls as she hisses, “Who’s the stupid asshole who fucked up the wine tasting?”
The waitstaff must see the Look in her eye, because they all disappear like roaches when a light goes on. Luckily, the last guest has already wandered to the outside patio—which is a relief, since Jessica wasn’t a bit concerned about keeping her voice down.
I cross my hands on the countertop and smile sweetly. “Asshole? Maybe. But stupid, I am not. Is there a problem?”
Jessica’s brows shoot up. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed me. But she does now.
“Frankie. So good to see you again. And with all your clothes on, for once,” she says.
“Well,” I say, smile still pasted to my face, “youdohave to get a little naked for truly mind-blowing sex.”
Oh, does that feel good as it comes out of my mouth. Jessica’s nostrils flare.
“Not if he’s banging you over a desk,” she points out.
I nod, pretending to mull it over. So we’re doing this. I’m flying pretty high after the successful event, so fine. I’m all in. Leaning over my arms, I say, “That’s a great suggestion, sweetie. We don’t have a desk in our bedroom, but maybe we’ll have to get one.”
Greg is looking between us, clearly enjoying the show. He suddenly stiffens and Jessica’s entire demeanor changes as Dante strides into the room.
Taking in the scene, he looks at me with one eyebrow hitched.“How’s your first tasting going?” he asks.
Jessica tries to put a possessive hand on his arm but he moves away, taking a closer look at the more expensive bottles lined up on the bar just like she did a moment ago.
“Have a look at today’s sales receipts,” I tell him. I nudge Greg, who prints out a receipt with the grand total and hands it to Dante. He looks over it, then shifts his gaze up to me.
“How did you do this?” he asks.
I shrug. “We uncorked some of the rarer vintages for the lineup, which people seemed to appreciate, and we played up the fact that it’s the winery’s anniversary today. I suggested we push the Elite Reserve as the perfect anniversary wine. As you can see, the guests agreed.”
Dante lowers the paper and smiles.
It’s a real smile, a rare one, both ends of his lips curving up. My heart flips and I can’t help but smile back, even though his quickly disappears again.
