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Several hours later, once I’d become sufficiently cross-eyed from the endless spreadsheets and charts and figures scrolling across my computer screen, I rose from my chair for lunch. Before heading out, I took a moment to bend side to side, sighing in relief as my back cracked and popped.
“Remind me to order a better desk chair,” I said to Jeff when I exited my office. “Better yet…order me a better desk chair. That’s what we pay you for, isn’t it?”
“Your wish is my command, boss,” Jeff said. I didn’t miss the snark in his tone, but I chose to ignore it.
“I’m off to lunch.”
“Heading to Sydney’s?” Jeff asked.
I normally went to Sydney’s, the diner in town, for lunch, mostly to avoid any chance of running into Amara. But today, I didn’t feel like it. I was in the mood for some of Ezra’s cooking.
“Nah, I’m just gonna go down to the restaurant.”
Jeff nodded. “See you in an hour.”
When Andreas Delatou first constructed the winery building in 1909, it consisted of the tasting room and the cellars below. Since then, each new generation has added on to the original. Leon's father, Christos, had built the offices and expanded the tasting room into a lobby, gift shop, and outdoor patio. Leon, of course, had been the mastermind behind the restaurant, which he opened in the early 2000s.
I was borderline hangry after starting my day off with all the boring parts of my job like those lame ass spreadsheets, and I practically stomped all the way down to the dining room. I knew getting some food in me would do wonders for my mood.
At least, I thought so until I stepped through the archway into the dining room and came face to face with the bane of my existence and her parents.
“Cal!” Leon shouted the moment he saw me, and my plan to duck out and head for Sydney’s flew out the window.
I wove through tables until I reached theirs, offering Leon and Lena a tense smile and studiously ignoring Amara, though I could feel her glare like a brand on the side of my face. If looks could kill, I’d be dead several times over.
“Why don’t you join us?” Lena said. She was a formidable woman—she’d have to be if Leon married her; I couldn’t imagine him with someone meek—but now that the transition of power had gone smoothly and we’d had nearly half a year to distance ourselves from the harsh words we’d all spoken in that final meeting five months ago, she’d warmed to me considerably.
“Oh, I really couldn’t impose,” I said, waving a hand. “I was just going to belly up to the bar and beg Ezra to feed me his famous grilled cheese.”
“You’re such a child,” Amara said under her breath, so quietly I knew her parents hadn’t heard. No, that barb was meant only for me.
“Says the party princess,” I quipped.
“What was that?” Leon asked.
“He said he was leaving,” Amara told her parents sweetly, a fake smile glued to her face.
“On second thought”—I moved around to the empty chair, right next to Amara, and pulled it out—“I think I will join you, thanks.”
“Our pleasure,” Lena said. Then she reached into the center of the table and lifted the bottle of Pinot Grigio.The perfect lunch wine,I’d heard her call it on more than one occasion. “Would you like a glass?”
“No, thank you,” I said politely. “I still have half a day of work to get back to.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Leon said, already signaling for the waitress to bring over another glass. “The boss won’t care,” Leon added with a wink at his daughter.
“Actually—” Amara held up a finger, clearly ready to protest, but her mother shushed her.
“Relax, Amara. A little wine with lunch never hurt anyone.”
“I don’t think you need to remindherof that,” I said.
Amara turned her head toward me so sharply that her hair whipped against my shoulder with athwack.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Amara…” her father warned.
“Did you not hear what he just said to me?” she asked her father incredulously.
