Page 79 of Somewhere Only We Know

He grinned. ‘I can waft?’

I held his gaze. ‘Okay, swagger then. Is that better?’

‘Much. Okay, you win.’ He shook his head, smiling and tapped a number on his phone screen. ‘Tim? Me again. Change of plan. We’ll do the tour.’

Two hours later, the tour group had arrived and were seated under the porch. They were a mixed bunch: four Germans; a mother and daughter from Sydney who’d immediately wandered off to try and photograph a family of dozing kangaroos under the trees; a couple on their honeymoon, whose bodies were so entwined that it was hard to see which was him and which was her; and an American family from California with three grown-up children.

‘Keep an eye on the youngest American boy; this is our third vineyard and he’s starting to slur his words.’ The tour guide tipped me a wink and retreated to his minibus to wait.

‘We’ve all been there.’ Jono smirked.

‘Welcome to Ruby Creek.’ I handed out a sheet of tasting notes to everyone. I’d already set the table with a flight of glasses, jugs of water and a batch of cheese straws which I’d knocked up out of ready-made pastry from the freezer. ‘Today, we’re going to be tasting the sparkling Chardonnay, our 2022 Sauvignon Blanc, a new Chenin Blanc, our best-selling rosé and two of our reds, one of which is my favourite Ruby Creek wine. And then for those who still have room, we’ve got a Bacchus which is almost sold out – so if you like it, make sure you don’t leave without a bottle.’

‘So you were listening, I’m impressed,’ Jono murmured, tearing the foil off the first bottle. ‘Full marks for attention to detail.’

‘But of course,’ I replied. ‘I hang on your every word.’

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

Jono had divided the pickers into two teams, each headed by one of the girls. They’d decided to have a competition to see who could fill their trailer first. It was probably going to be the fastest-ever pick and result in a lot of bruised grapes, but from the hoots of laughter drifting to us on a warm breeze, it sounded like they were having fun.

‘My parents started this vineyard when I was a baby,’ Jono began, popping the cork. He handed the bottle to me. Our fingertips brushed and a frisson of pleasure fluttered down my spine. ‘Their passion for fine wine must be in my blood because I’ve been lucky enough to live and work here my whole life. Our heritage is in our Semillons, which have won international awards, but over time we’ve added premium reds to our portfolio and now our name is as synonymous with robust Cabernet Sauvignons as it is with our sought-after whites.’

I went around the table with the sparkling wine, pouring everyone a sample, ignoring the American boy when he swigged his straight down and held his glass out for more.

‘We’re particularly proud of our sparkling wines,’ Jono continued. ‘This one has vibrant floral aromas, intense citrus flavours, balanced by a mineral acid backbone.’

‘What do you think?’ I asked, once everyone had had a taste. ‘Did you like that?’

The group nodded their assent, already eyeing up the next bottle. I pulled the cork out of a bottle of Semillon.

‘At Ruby Creek we like to think of ourselves as more than quality wine producers. We make good times in a glass, an opportunity to make memories with family and friends. We believe that you can taste our love for what we do.’ He turned to me and caught me gazing at him. ‘Isn’t that right, Maggie?’

I was mesmerised by his passion for his family’s business, by his obvious love of his home. And if I was honest with myself, I was mesmerised by the sheer presence of him. I’d teased him about his manly swagger, but I’d meant it. I hadn’t felt this affected by a man since I’d bumped into Gordon Ramsay coming out of a boutique on Bond Street and asked him if we’d met before. Gallantly, he’d said no, but he was sure he’d remember if he had. It was only after he’d walked away that I’d realised who he was.

‘Yes,’ I stuttered, my mouth dry. What would his lips feel like? Would he be as tender with me as he’d been with that thirsty bumble bee? Would I find out? I wanted to find out, very much. What had been his question? ‘Yes. Absolutely.’

‘Maggie?’ said one of the Germans. ‘You are pouring that wine on my shoe.’

‘That was a success,’ I declared once the group had finally left.

We’d sold out of the Bacchus and organised to have two cases of Merlot delivered to Germany; and the mum from Sydney had placed an order for Ruby Creek wines for her daughter’s wedding later this year. The Americans had been about to make a purchase when their son turned green and vomited. The boy blamed the wines; his parents clearly blamed themselves. They had bought a case of rosé and proceeded to slink back to the minibus, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the group.

‘It was.’ Jono nodded. ‘We make a good team, you and me.’

We collected up the glasses and loaded them into the dishwasher in Ruby’s Bar.

He reached a hand to my face. I held my breath, heart pounding, hoping he was going to kiss me.

‘Eyelash,’ he said, touching a fingertip to my cheek. ‘There, gone.’

‘Oh. Thanks.’ Hope vanished as quickly as it had come.

‘Maggie? Can I ask you a question?’

‘Sure.’ I felt my heart race again.

‘Would you …?’ He frowned and shook his head. ‘No, no, nothing.’