Page 11 of The Sweetness of Life

I look at the guy recording this and pin him with a severe look.

“Delete that.” I’m not even nice about it, and he flinches before he starts pressing buttons. Once he’s reset, he nods to Kelly and then me, and I launch into a better answer.

“Here’s the thing, Kelly. My father was and is exceptional. Yes, I understand the role I now play as the new owner, but I’m excited to continue his legacy. He has the ability to know the exact moment a wine is done fermenting and ready to be bottled.” Shifting in the leather chair, I peek at Shelby to make sure she’s paying attention. She needs to hear this as much as the reporter. “I’d like to believe that instead of filling his shoes, I’m following in his footsteps. This is my home. This is my winery. I grew up here, worked part of every harvest, and spent every holiday here. I’m not new to running a winery. I was born for this. Wolff Winery is very excited to be a part of Food Network Magazine’s Southern issue. We appreciate Shelby coming all this way to stay with us”—my gaze briefly lands on Shelby, who’s leaning on the armrest closest to me and listening intently—“and look forward to tasting what she comes up with to pair with our wines.”

My eyes trail back to Kyle. His hands are now down by his sides, relaxed, and he’s leaning against the wall. He nods in approval, but then he glances to Michelle, and the two of them exchange an unspoken comment. There’s something about that look that irritates me, and it leads me to believe they’ve been discussing me—not that I blame them. My mood has been off since she arrived.

Everyone around me has felt it and steered clear. I don’t even know why I let her bother me so much. Maybe it’s on principle since she’s a critic and I can’t stand critics, or maybe it’s because I’ve spent too much time around people like her: unapologetic, selfish, career-climbing workaholics. Her expression is blank, guarded. I have no idea what she’s thinking, and that bothers me, too. Everything about her bothers me.

“Shelby, you must have been very excited to be chosen for this. How did you feel when you got the call?” Kelly crosses her legs and shifts them in my direction, pushing her skirt up a little instead of down. The move is blatant, and everyone sees it, including Shelby. Why I thought encouraging Kelly would be fun, I have no idea, and now I’m going to have to deal with her.

“I was very excited. I love Food Network, and I love working for them. As you know, Kelly, I’ve worked with them in the past, and in addition to this assignment, I’m writing another article for the special issue on the top twenty-five farm-to-table restaurants across the southeast. We’ve stumbled across some incredible places.”

Huh, I didn’t know she was writing that. Come to think of it, I didn’t know she had worked with them before either. Great, just great. May as well throw another log onto the fire that’s become my living hell. She has an established relationship with the magazine, which means I really can’t mess this up—no matter how much I dislike her.

“Wolff Winery is beautiful. I mean, who wouldn’t be excited about getting to spend two weeks here?” Shelby smiles at me brightly.

You!

I want to yell at her, the little liar. My hands grip my thighs as I think back to yesterday when she made it abundantly clear that we were not her first choice.

Looking away from us, her eyes sweep over the hillside—my hillside—and it feels strangely intimate, as if she’s looking at me and I don’t want her to be. I want her to look at nothing. I want her to disappear.

“How do you think you’ll come up with the pairing ideas?” Kelly’s voice breaks through my raging thoughts. I realize I’m staring at Shelby, and she’s looking back at me as if she wants to poison me.

Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.

She turns away from me and smiles insincerely at Kelly.

“Food is best represented when it’s like its family. I’m looking forward to spending the next two weeks with the Wolff Winery family and seeing how they cohesively interact. I’m certain they have a few food suggestions that mean something to them, and I can’t wait to dive into their garden.”

“Have you had a chance to tour the winery yet?” Kelly asks Shelby, but she looks my way with an eager expression, likely hoping I’ll extend an invitation to her. No thanks. I’ll leave that to Kyle.

“No, I arrived yesterday and took the time to settle in. I did, however, open a bottle of chardonnay that I found in the cottage. I’m not embarrassed to say there is none left. It was delicious.” She licks her lips, and my heart involuntarily stutters.

She likes my wine.

This shouldn’t surprise me—after all, it’s excellent—but coming from her, someone who I expect to be indifferent toward us—toward me—it does. Hearing praise for our wines, no matter whom it’s from, never gets old.

Shelby glances my way, and her smile drops when she realizes I’m still watching her.

“So, you’re a big drinker?” I ask, my brows rising in amusement. “An entire bottle of wine and here you are looking chipper today.” I lean back in my seat, cross one foot over my knee, and smirk at her.

Her jaw drops, and Kyle clears his throat.

Shit. I really have to work on my filter around her.

Recovering quickly, she surprises me when she laughs—laughs. As if her smile weren’t temptation enough to draw my attention to her mouth, her laugh is infectious and hypnotizing. She reminds me of the femme fatale firefly. The females can’t fly, so they flash to lure in a mate, and the minute he lands—he’s eaten.

The interview continues for about another twenty minutes. Kelly asks questions about the winery, last season’s harvest, and the current menu at Shelby’s restaurant. I can’t remember the last time I was in Charleston, and I chuckle to myself, wondering how she would react if I showed up at her door.

“All right, this has been great. I’d like to go ahead and get a few pictures of the two of you together. Let’s get one out back on the patio with the vineyard in the background. I’ll have you two toasting each other, and then let’s get a few of you down in the cellar.” Kelly turns her smile to me, and I inwardly cringe.

Shelby stands and starts walking for the door. Following her seems to be the lesser of two evils, and without thinking, I set my hand on Shelby’s lower back to guide her out of the room. She stiffens and shoots me a death glare. I don’t know why, but this takes my already irritated mood and pushes me toward the edge—an edge I’d like to push her off. I scowl at the back of her head as we turn down the hall, and I’m certain the entourage behind us saw both of our reactions. Just a little bit longer, I chant to myself.

Pride rushes through me as we step out onto the porch. The view here really is one of the best on the property. The vineyard sweeps over the hillside, which slopes down and is surrounded by orchards of fruit and pecan trees. It shows off almost all one hundred and twelve acres, and no matter how many times I see it, it never gets old.

The magazine crew has already staged the area. There’s a high-top table with an open bottle of wine and two partially filled glasses. Behind us is the vineyard, and in front of us are light diffusers and six people staring at us.