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“Do I sense some jealousy?”
I tore the lettuce with relish, wishing it were Michael’s head that I was ripping from his body. “No,” I fumed, pouting.
“Then what’s got you so mad?” she asked, gathering some herbs and garlic for the salmon.
“I’m not mad. I’m embarrassed.” The reality caused me to deflate a little. She didn’t say one word. Just grabbed a knife and started mincing the garlic. “Okay, maybe I am mad a little too,” I admitted.
“With Pops?”
“No. With Michael Blaire.” My lips curled into a sneer just saying his name.
“About what?”
“He didn’t tell me who he was.”
“Was he supposed to?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know!” My hands flew up with a mind of their own. “But it was humiliating!” I buried my head in my hands, not wanting to admit the ugly truth.
“Did you tell him who you were?”
“Why would I? Clearly, I worked there since I stood behind the counter and all. Not to mention, the nametag.” I pointed to the tag still pinned on.
“Hmm.” That was all I got from her. I considered her question. Should I have introduced myself? No, that would’ve been weird. Why would I introduce myself to a customer?
I took a deep breath and waved my hands, trying to put my thoughts into an explanation. “So, Jenny and I are sitting there talking, and I go off about Blaire and how he builds outrageous hotels. How he’s an egomaniac. Anddickwadis just sitting there, der-dee-der, not saying anything, totally egging me on.”
“What do you meanegging you on?”
“He was asking questions and staying in the conversation.”
“Maybe he was trying to get to know you.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“Or maybe he was just trying to be polite.”
“C’mon, Grams. He was trying to get me to shove my foot in my mouth, which I did. Excellently, I might add.” The memory brought an embarrassed blush to my cheeks.
“I’m going to play devil’s advocate here. It sounds to me like there was more to it than trying to wheedle some smart-ass retort from you.” She cackled, amused with herself.
The back door opened, announcing Pop’s return. I waited until he came through the doorway before I sprang. “What was that all about?” I whirled. All my calm immediately switched to outright irritation.
He ran his hand through his full head of black hair. “What was what?” Pops asked, pretending to be oblivious to my frustration.
“Don’t play coy with me. Michael Blaire in the tasting room? You rushing off to talk with him?” I crossed my arms.
“I told you I had a meeting scheduled with him.”
“That was supposed to be earlier.”
“He called and asked if we could push it back. Said he got tied up with something.”
“You didn’t say he was cominghere.”
“He asked if it would be all right for him to come by. I didn’t think it’d be a problem. Figured he wanted a glass of wine at the end of the day. Plus, it made it easier for me.”
“And?”
