Page 12 of The Sweetness of Life

“Okay, you two. I’m going to place you.” A guy walks over, pushes me behind the table, and then guides Shelby to stand next to me. She looks at me, flinches, and then takes a step to the side. The guy frowns.

“Shelby, I know it feels like you’re standing in his personal space, but we need the shot to be tight. The closer you are together, the more of the winery the readers will see.”

She steps back in as a breeze sweeps across the porch, successfully blowing her hair all over my face. It smells even stronger than yesterday, like vanilla and honey. She smells good, real good. Inwardly, I groan.

The guy moves back in, smooths her hair down, brushes some translucent powder over both of us, and then claps in delight. “I can already tell these are going to turn out beautifully. I appreciate you two coordinating for today. It definitely helps the photos.”

Coordinating? I look at her white dress and black shoes, and then I look at my own outfit. I’m wearing a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, gray dress slacks, and black shoes. I wouldn’t say we’re coordinated—these colors are standard—but we don’t clash.

“The white attire will make the color in the wines stand out. Very good choice.” He moves out of the way, and the photographer steps in front of us, testing the light.

“All right, folks.” He looks through the lens of the camera. “Zach, take a half step back and move a bit to your left so Shelby’s a little in front of you.”

A little? Where they’ve positioned the table has left almost no room between it and the porch railing. I do as he asks, brushing against the backside of her. She tenses and quickly sucks in air, expanding her chest. My eyes are drawn to it; I can’t help it—she’s beautifully proportioned—and I find I’m squeezing my glass so tight it may shatter. At least it doesn’t look as if she’s any more comfortable than I am. She kind of has the deer-caught-in-headlights look, which makes me feel better. If I have to suffer, so does she. Though, the way her lips are slightly parted . . .

Shit. I need to stop looking at her.

Click.

Click.

My head pops up and the photographer takes a few more test shots before looking at the screen of his camera.

“Perfect. If you two could take a deep breath and relax your shoulders, it’ll look more natural. On the count of three, here we go.”

We both hold up our glass of wine, and on three, we smile for the camera.

Blueberry Sour Cream Streusel Muffins

TWO HOURS HAVE passed since we started taking these photos, and even though I think I’m standing in the most gorgeous wine cellar I’ve ever been in, I’m officially over it.

Michelle and Kyle are off in their own world, and the camera crew hasn’t stopped fussing over the current set of shots. Kelly hasn’t talked to me once, not even to ask me a question. All I’ve done is memorize every detail of this room.

The wine cellar sits beneath the manor. There are several rooms that house the wine, but we are currently in a large great room that could easily hold fifty people. The floors are quartzite, the room is lit by crystal chandeliers, and in the center is a large wooden table for private dining.

Since no one is paying attention to me, I shoot inconspicuous glares at each of them. Everyone but me is in long sleeves, including Kelly. She has on a suit jacket. I’m in a summer dress. The special issue of the magazine comes out over the summer, so the dress is appropriate, but no one mentioned we would be down here, and I’m freezing.

Letting out a sigh, I rub my arms and then reach over to the snack plate, grab a cracker, and dip it into a pimento cheese dip. I don’t think snacks were originally part of today’s schedule, but Michelle did a great job throwing together a few tasty things and an antipasto appetizer board. All of it’s delicious, and as I savor the classic Southern dip, I appreciate that she hand-grated the cheese. I wonder what this would taste like as a grilled cheese, and then I frown. I shouldn’t be thinking about food; I should be thinking about how awesome this feature article is going to be. Instead, I’m bored, ignored, and feeling very out of place, just like the Feeding America benefit. God, what an awful experience that was. I never should have agreed to be set up with him . . .

“Oh my gosh, Shelby. You are going to love him, I know it.” Lexi had squealed as she reached over and squeezed my arm. “He’s tall, good-looking, ambitious, and one of the nicest and most genuine guys I’ve ever met—and trust me, having a twin brother who played football and is in the military, I’ve met a lot of guys.” She rocked up on her toes, grinning at me as excitement poured off of her.

My stomach tightened with expectancy, and I knew I’d been caught up in her exuberant emotions of introducing us as well as my own of meeting someone for the first time.

“If he’s so great, why isn’t he your date?” I asked as I turned to face her.

Her smile slipped a little and her shoulders slumped before she shrugged them, shaking off whatever thought had saddened her. In all the time I had known Lexi, she’d never dated anyone, and for the first time—especially after seeing her respond that way—I wondered why.

“I guess he could be, but only as a friend. It isn’t like that between us—it never was. Besides, you two are perfect for each other.” I didn’t push for a better explanation as we stood there watching the door and chatting with people who passed by. I had no idea what the guy looked like, but I still hoped I would somehow know him when I saw him.

Sure, both Lexi and Meg had encouraged me to look him up online first, but I didn’t want to be influenced or intimidated more than I already was. So, I waited and waited. He should have already been there, but Lexi hadn’t spotted him, either. With each minute that passed, I became increasingly nervous. It’s one thing to go on a blind date set up by a friend; it’s another to go on one set up by a best friend.

“There.” Lexi finally pointed over toward the bar where he was waiting in line. My eyes followed hers and my heart sputtered a bit. “You can’t miss him: tall, blond hair, and a scowl.” She giggled, dropping her hand to her side. “He actually looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.”

“I see him.” And I did—every bit of him. Lexi hadn’t been kidding: he was incredibly handsome, but he also looked incredibly annoyed. He had one hand deep in his pocket and the other ran over his face and around to the back of his neck. Everyone around him seemed to sense his mood and were all standing a half step away from him, as if they’d unanimously agreed to give him some breathing room.

He moved forward in the line, placed his order, and dropped a few bills in the tip jar. Turning in our direction, he stepped out of the way and took a sip of his drink. Holy moly. He was nice to look at from the side, but straight on, this guy was gorgeous with trendy styled hair, a strong jaw, broad shoulders, solid arms and legs, and an overall air to him that screamed confidence.

Lexi let out a little squeal next to me. “This is going to be so great, I know it,” she said, barely louder than a whisper.