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“You really know how to kill a moment, huh?” he deadpans in mock disgust, but behind it all, he’s beaming and I’m enjoying this far too much.
We both grab a plastic tub, hauling it over to one of the sheds that’s on the far end of the property. It’s not used for wine making any longer, but a lot of the old supplies are stored in it. It’s one of the original sheds from when the place was started all those years ago, and now that technology has caught up, they don’t really have any use for making small-batch wine. It’s the perfect set up for us to experiment with mead making.
“How long have you worked here?” I ask, as we’re walking.
“I don’t really know. A long time, I guess,” Tommy responds, but continues again, adding more to the story. “I started working here back when Ellen and I were in high school, but I took a break when I went to college.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you went to college. Where?”
“Washington, but I didn’t last. Only made it a year before I was back here. It wasn’t for me, I guess.” He says that last part a little quieter, almost as if he’s embarrassed by what most would consider a failure.
“College wasn’t my thing either. Obviously, I’m working in the tasting room at a winery.”
“But maybe this is your thing,” he says, motioning around to the vast land covered in grapevines and rolling hills in the distance.
“And maybe it’s yours too.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tommy
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when things started to change between us, but they definitely have. Somewhere along the way we’ve gone from being work colleagues to friends; two people who can hang out, give each other shit and enjoy a few laughs.
But as cool as it’s been and as much as I’m enjoying spending time with her, I can’t read too much into it. Because friends are all we can ever be. Friends are all we evershouldbe.
“So, what did you learn in all of your research?” Penny asks when we get the last of the tubs with the supers into the shed.
I throw my hat onto one of the long work benches before unzipping the front of my suit. I’m drenched underneath it, the material clinging to my clothes, which are stuck to my skin.
“I didn’t,” I say, shrugging my shoulders out as I peel the suit off my torso. “Weren’t you gonna figure that part out?”
Penny pauses, her zipper half undone as she narrows her brows at me. “Seriously?”
I grin. “Nah, course not,” I reply, shoving the suit pants down my legs. “Just giving you shit, Pen. Fuck me, that’s hot,” I mutter, throwing the suit across the end of the table.
When I turn around, Penny is still staring at me, only this time she’s got a strange look on her face, kind of a little dazed, with her wide eyes and her mouth open a little.
“What?”
Her mouth snaps shut as she swallows hard, shaking her head. “Nothing,” she mutters, now peeling her own suit off. Underneath, she’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts, her skin glistening with sweat, as the fabric of her shirt clings to her body, letting me know about every single dip and curve.
“Fuck,” I murmur on an exhale as I shove a hand through my hair.
Penny throws her suit over with mine before lifting one of the tubs onto the bench. “So, we gotta cut all the wax off,” she says, reaching for the knife. The way her lean body stretches over the bench nearly has me groaning out loud and wondering if this was such a smart idea after all.
“You know how to do it?” I ask, tipping my head toward the knife.
Penny turns, holding the huge knife up as she spins it in her hand like she’s some sort of ninja. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You think so?” I ask, a brow raised in question. “Because that’s a seriously big and seriously sharp knife you’re wielding, you know that, right?”
Her mouth widens with a grin, her tongue poking out at the corner as she meets my gaze. “You scared, Tommy?”
Now it’s me grinning, as I reach my hand out and wrap it around her wrist. “Of you or the knife?”
Her fingers tighten on the handle, the breathy, “Both,” she lets out suggesting I’m not the only one somehow affected by all the heat that’s suddenly swirling between us, both literally and metaphorically.
I let out a low chuckle. “Just don’t chop your fingers off, okay?” I tell her. “I’m not sure I’m up for picking up all your stumps before I take you to the hospital to get them stitched back on.”
