AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Okay, okay. I get it. Touchy subject for you.”
I say nothing.
“If it helps, I got the same spiel from Dee during our drive. She considers you her brother, no matter what.”
I still say nothing.
“I guess it’s a failing of mine. I don’t know any adopted people. A friend of mine has a rescue dog, and she did the DNA thing. It was really interesting to find out what breeds are in him, see which characteristics he has from each one. You know?”
Again, I say nothing.
She huffs, standing and placing her hands on her hips. I try not to think about how pretty she looks in her indignation.
“If we’re going to be working together, you’re probably going to have to speak to me on occasion.”
“Is that your real hair color?” I ask. Then I want to slug myself. Why the hell does it matter? Her hair is gorgeous. Hell, she’d be gorgeous with no hair at all. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.
Her eyes nearly pop off her face. “Excuse me?”
“You’re just really blond. I’m just wondering.”
“You’re pretty blond too. Is that your real hair color?”
“As a matter of fact, it is.” Does she actually think I would color my hair?
“So I lighten my hair a little,” she says. “So what? I’m a natural blond underneath too. Just slightly darker.”
“I figured. No one has hair that blond. Except maybe a few Scandinavians. Or an albino.”
Her hair isn’t as light as an albino’s. I have no idea why I said that. Why I’m being such a dick.
“You know what?” She shakes her head. “I’ll just see the vineyards tomorrow. I can’t believe I actually thought…”
“Actually thought what?”
She shakes her head again. “Never mind.”
I’m being an ass. I know it, but I can’t seem to stop myself. The truth is, though, that I’m attracted to Ashley White.
I don’t want to be, but I am.
I have to hold that part of me in check, but it doesn’t excuse being an ass.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Let me just tell you the truth.”
Chapter Seven
Ashley
“The truth?”
“Yeah,” he says. “The truth is that I don’t think we need an intern. We have a huge staff of talented people, none of whom have a”—air quotes—“doctorate in wine.”
Yeah, he’s still being a jerk.
“Is that the problem you have with me? My education?”
“No. I have no problem with you personally. My issue is you’re not needed here, and I don’t have time to train you.”
“Then don’t train me.”
“It’s not that simple. My uncle thinks I need to improve my people skills.”
I can’t help myself. I burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“You can’t improve your people skills if you don’t have any in the first place.”
His full lips straighten into a line.
At least he’s not frowning.
“I have plenty of people skills,” he says. “I use them when I need them. I just don’t think wasting three months on an intern who’s going to take what I teach and go work in some huge California winery merits any use of them whatsoever.”
“Wow,” I say.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning…wow. You’ve got one big-ass chip on your shoulder, Mr. Steel.”
“If you—”
Then he shuts his mouth. Abruptly. As if a battery that controls his mouth went dead.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“For your information, I’m not planning to work in a winery. I want to be a sommelier at a Michelin three-star restaurant.”
He erupts in laughter.
And oh, it’s a glorious sound. The luscious Syrah red coats my mind.
He’s making fun of me, but I could drown in his laughter. In his delicious dark-red laughter.
Finally, he gets hold of himself. “Why, then, are you here? You don’t need to learn about harvesting and winemaking. You’re only concerned with tasting.”
“It’s all related, Dale. You of all people should know that.”
He doesn’t reply.
Yup. Got him. I’m right, and he knows it.
“Besides,” I add, “I’m getting credit for the internship.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You keep calling me a doctor of wine, but I’m not. At least, not yet. I still have several credits to go before I graduate.” I smile, resisting the urge to wink. “Technically, I’m just a master of wine at the moment.”
His lips quiver.
He’s trying not to laugh.
If he’d only just let go! Allow that glorious laugh of his to take him over! It’d do us both a world of good.
“How’d it feel?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“When you broke out in laughter a minute ago? How’d it feel?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
I walk toward him until only about a foot separates us. “You need to do some serious loosening up.”
No response. Not that I expected one.
I close the distance between us and pull the leather strap out of his hair. “You can begin by letting this gorgeous hair down.”
“A lot you know,” he says in monotone. “I don’t usually pull my hair back. My mother asked me to this evening.”
“Shake your head, sweetie.”
“Huh?”
“My mom is a hair stylist in LA. That’s what she says to her clients. Boy, I bet she’d love to get her hands on your mane.”
