Page 5 of The Sweetness of Life

Elaine and I were together for over a year, but as soon as my career ended, so did we. Her sudden departure left an incredibly bitter taste that I haven’t been able to wash away, and then last November, a bad review dropped on our wines. Rarely does this happen, so when my father called eight months after I had taken over, yelling at me all what-the-hell-have-you-done, I was shocked and even more pissed.

The wine community is very tight, and in general, we all support each other. A bad review can haunt a winery for years, and that isn’t good for any of us. Unfortunately, my past of being photographed with A-list celebrities, dating the infamous daughter of our team owner, and the rumors that I would one day be a shoo-in for the hall of fame didn’t help. Someone caught wind of my name in connection with the winery, the story caught like wildfire, and the backlash has been near devastating.

“So, what’s going on with you and Michelle?” I change the subject and test the waters.

He tenses and his eyes dart to mine before returning to the hallway. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” His voice fades off at the end, and I nod, not believing him for a second. Since my point is made, I let it drop. He stays out of my personal life, and I’ll stay out of his.

Walking into the tasting room, I smile at Michelle. Her eyes leave mine for a split second to find Kyle and then bounce back to me. Like Kyle, Michelle has been here for years and is a great team member. She’s a little too rural for my tastes, and she’s an employee, but I can see the appeal. Her brown hair is always kept in a braid, she has adorable dimples, and she always wears short skirts with cowboy boots. A smirk lights up her face, and she shifts her eyes toward the woman standing across from her. What is it with the two of them today?

I follow her gaze down the old mahogany bar and freeze.

Holy shit.

It’s as if the air is sucked out of the room and I can hardly breathe, the vision of her catapulting straight at me even though she’s standing eight feet away. I’m looking at the one girl I never wanted to see again.

I stop breathing.

Speaking of the devil, here’s one in the flesh. A she-devil!

Only I will not be selling my soul to her.

Ever.

Her eyes widen a little as my jaw locks tight and my teeth grind together. Flashes waver in front of my eyes as I lower them and trail over her body from head to toe. Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, showing off every detail of her perfect face. Her shirt has slipped to the edge of one shoulder, revealing the smooth white skin over her collarbone, and her legs are endlessly long and wrapped in skin-tight denim. I hate to say it, but the shoes are incredibly hot. She’s hot . . . even more so than I remember.

Shit.

More flashes follow, and twinges alert me to a headache moving in.

My eyes land back on hers, and she’s scowling at me in complete disapproval. What she has to disapprove of, though, I don’t know. I’m the one who has to be worried. Fear slides like glacial ice into my veins, only to melt from the anger—anger that is causing my blood to boil. I know who she is, I know what she does, and she needs to leave—immediately. Although she didn’t write the four wilted grapes review, I still despise her and everyone like her. I don’t want her to have any ammunition she could fire at us. We’ve worked too hard building our brand and our business back up.

Kyle clears his throat to break the silence, or should I say the standoff. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him and Michelle glance at each other.

“Really?” Her voice echoes across the room and sends my heart racing. Damn, I forgot how lovely her voice is. It’s all Southern and slightly raspy. Too bad she’s the epitome of a snake in sheep’s clothing, the devil in disguise. She props one hand on her hip and gives me a disgusted look. “That’s all you have? A blank stare and baby owl eyes?”

“Baby owl?” My voice is rough with emotion. What’s she talking about?

“Oh, he can speak. Yeah, you know.” She blinks at me several times in an exaggerated way, her long eyelashes waving at me.

Kyle chuckles then turns it into a cough, covering his mouth with his fist as I shoot him a warning look.

Turning back to Shelby, I ask her, “What are you doing here?” My hand holding the football squeezes to the point of pain.

She sees the movement and her face clouds with confusion. “What do you mean?” Slowly, her bag begins to slide down her arm. She catches it and places it on the floor next to her feet.

“I didn’t realize the question was a difficult one. Let me rephrase: why are you standing in my tasting room?” The hate I feel for this girl drips off my words, and she takes two steps back.

“You’re joking, right?” She crosses her arms under her chest. My eyes drop straight to her rack, which is being pushed up in a very enticing way. Damn. Internally, I curse myself. I cannot find this girl attractive.

I don’t answer her, and her frown deepens.

“The magazine did tell you I was coming, right?”

“They told me they were sending a chef from Charleston, a Ms. Leigh from OBA.”

OBA! Oh hell! I was so excited during the call I didn’t realize that was the name of the restaurant! I am an idiot.

She throws her arms out in a well, here I am gesture and then drops them down by her sides.