“Fine.” She looks right at me, defiance pulling all her features tight. “My mother thinks you’re a vineyard manager from our competition who’s not happy with his job. I never told her that,” she rushes to explain. “Not exactly,” she qualifies. “But believing that is what made her agree to give this a chance. Which means I get a chance. You could help me save Golden Leaf.”
Holy fucking sneaky shit.
“Okay. Here’s the thing. I’m supposed to be some hotshot manager? I could barely assemble a tent on my own. Your mother’s been in this business for decades. You don’t think she’ll realize anything is up?”
I raise my eyebrows high at her. I like the determined set of her mouth.
“She and I have very specific schedules. Our paths don’t cross very often during the day. And, since you’ll be taking over my job, that means your paths won’t cross. I was born into this. I’ll teach you every single thing I know, and once you’re confident, I’ll be able to work on other things. Things that will save Golden Leaf. Hopefully.” She puts a hand out on my arm. “Please. I promise, I’ll be on call anytime you need me. We even have a manager’s apartment over the garage you could use, no cost, if you need.”
She’s likely as desperate as I am.
“Can you give me a second?” I ask.
She nods, hands clasped like she’s praying. I walk to my foreman, turn in my badge and tools, and leave with him screaming at my back. When I get back to the parking lot, her eyes are wide and shiny with hope.
“Alright, Caletti. I’ll take the job. And I’ll take the apartment, too.”
A colossally bad idea, but I can’t turn my nose up at zero rent.
I hold my hand out for a shake, but Jordan throws herself in my arms, hugging my neck hard. My nose is in all that sweet hair, held back in a ponytail. Her warm body presses against mine, too close, too soft, too fucking irresistible.
“Thank you, thank you so much! Thank you!” she cries, her voice loud in my ear.
It immediately makes me think about how much I’d love to have her screaming in my ear in a whole different scenario.
Which makes me untangle her arms from my neck and gently push away from her. “Alright. This is business, Caletti. There’s no hugging in business. Why do I have a feeling I’m gonna earn every damn penny of that paycheck with my blood, sweat, and tears? Lead the way. Let’s check this place out.”
She bites her lip, and I have this random thought that that little nip was to resist the urge to kiss me.
I shake my head and get into my truck. I let the fact that I’ve just quit my second job for a girl whose smell I can’t get enough of sink in, and hold out hope that this doesn’t end in complete disaster.
“It just takes a little extra push sometimes,” Jordan says. She rears back and then throws her weight into the door while turning the key. She blows a long breath up and her bangs flutter out of her eyes.
“Can I help?” I ask, reaching for the doorknob, but she shoos me away in favor of launching her long body at the door again. After the third time, the apartment door finally opens. I can’t help but chuckle at her stubbornness, as I extend my hand to motion for her to go inside first.
“You know, I can probably fix it,” I offer.
“We have a handyman, Enzo. What we need is your expertise,” Jordan says.
“Right, my fake expertise.” I run a hand through my hair and sigh, debating for the hundredth time whether I should back out or not. “This…this all sounds like a crazy plan.”
“Maybe it is a crazy plan.” She presses her fingertips to her temples, looking exasperated. “But I’m out of options. Mother won’t listen to me, and Golden Leaf will be locking its gates for good before the end of the season if something doesn’t change—fast. I need you Enzo.”
Her delicate hand touches my forearm, and I swear I can feel hot need ripple through me because of that one small touch.
“So, this is the apartment,” she says, stating the obvious and nervously pulling her hand out of my grasp. “It’s not much, but it’s comfortable. You’ve got a basic kitchen here. Living room, and the bedroom is back there with a master bath. There’s a second bedroom, if you can even call it that. I’m not sure if it will fit a bed, but maybe a small home office? Before it was used as the management apartment, I used to sneak up here and pretend I was an artist. I’d set up a canvas and sit by the window and—” Jordan stops mid-sentence and shakes her head like she’s embarrassed. “Here, check it out.”
She makes her way over to the far wall and pulls back the curtain, revealing the sweeping view of the vineyard.
“I’ve lived here all my life and the sight of the grounds in the morning has never gotten old.”
The morning mist clings to row after row of the low lying plants. The sun’s not quite all the way up and its rays leave a golden haze over the rows of vines.
“Wow,” I say, letting out a low whistle. It’s inadequate. Moronic. But I don’t have words for the view. “That is…wow.”
“Beautiful, right?” she nods.
“It’s pretty incredible,” I say. “I mean, I’m an ocean guy, but this really gives the waves a run for their money.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I think this is exactly what’s missing. What could help bring Golden Leaf back into the spotlight. We just need to open our doors more, you know?”
“Right, okay, let the public see what’s going on behind the scenes you mean?”
“Exactly!” Jordan says. “My mom is all about presenting a product to the consumer, but she doesn’t really want them to experience it on this organic level, the way that we do. She wants them to buy the wine, but not really share a piece of this place, if that makes any sense? I want people to be just as excited about coming to Golden Leaf and seeing where the wine itself comes from as they are about uncorking one of our vintage reserves.”
I find myself nodding along because her shiny-eyed excitement is contagious. Every alarm bell in my head is going off. This girl, her passion, are going to make it impossible for me to keep a clear, detached head about all this.
“If we opened the grounds for sunrise and sunset tours, how could people not fall in love with it and want to take a piece of it home with them?”
“You really get it, Enzo,” she says, locking eyes with me and grinning wide and true.
All worries aside, I can’t help but feel like one lucky bastard to be standing in this gorgeous place and having this beautiful girl impressed with me.
“So,” Jordan clears her throat and blinks, breaking the eye contact that was hotter than anything two pairs of innocent retinas should have been able to produce. “Over there, in the low lying areas are the Rieslings, Pinot Noir, and Merlots. The soil there has more clay and stays cooler.”
I nod like I fully understand how soil difference is better for different grapes and dutifully follow her finger to the right side of the vineyard.
“And there, in the higher reaches are the Cabs. There’s more sandstone in the soil which means there’s more sunlight and warmth. Our Cabernet Sauvignon has really come into its own the last few seasons. I’m really proud of it.”
She pulls her bottom lip in shyly, like she doesn’t want to admit how much love she has for these…grapes. It hits me right then that the passion she has for these vines isn’t something anyone can fake; and the idea of trying leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
“I’m never going to get all of this.”
I look at the long rows of vines she’s been studying and thinking about her entire life.
I think about how I used to watch my brother’s best friend try to explain the difference between a beach break and a reef break to the novices who signed on for his surf classes.
Sure, you can explain the terms all day long, but it takes years of paddling out in the swells before you really know what’s different about those waves. Not to mention how to ride them. How to anticipate them.
And, even after committing
uncountable hours to the waves, you’re still throwing yourself body and soul into the ocean, a force no man can imagine taming. The same swells you learned to surf on before you learned to walk can rip you apart on a bad day. That’s just the way it is.
This vineyard needs someone who knows grapes the way I know waves—that someone is clearly Jordan, and I’m failing to see how we’re gonna have any luck pretending it’s me instead.
“You don’t need to get it all on your own,” she insists, getting so flushed, her freckles disappear under the pink. “I told you, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“But that doesn’t seem fair, Jordan. I don’t—I don’t know if I can take credit for a job I’m not actually doing.” I say it, and I mean it, but I can tell by the way her forehead crinkles—and by the near emptiness of my bank account—that we’re both equally desperate. So I back down and decide this is the best worst option for both of us right now. “But I promise to bust my ass and do whatever you need.”
Relief lights up her face and she holds out her hand to shake mine.
“Let’s get started then,” she says, pumping my hand up and down.
There’s no way I could deny her enthusiasm. I look back out the window, noticing how the sun flickers off the leaves the same way it reflects off the ocean waves at high noon. Maybe it’s not a whole different world. Maybe I’ll catch on faster than I think.
Maybe I don’t have a choice if I want to avoid slinking home, broke and defeated.
I take a deep breath and nod, trying to lose myself in Jordan’s smile and remember how scared shitless I was just before I nailed my first backside tail slide surfing with my uncles in Puerto Escondido.
Sometimes, you just have to throw yourself behind something, no matter the outcome, you have to give it a shot.
“Okay.” I nod. “Let’s do this.”
“What do you mean she wants to meet with me?” Enzo asks. The color drains from his normally olive skin.
“Well, she is the owner, Enzo, so you had to imagine that you’d have to sit down with her at some point,” I say. “And it’s fine. Really. You’ve already got the job, Mom just wants to hear some of your plans first hand.”
“I have no plans!” He throws his hands up in a mini-panic. “You have plans, Jordan. You. This is never going to work.”
“It will work. It has to. Listen, we’ve been over all of the processes—”
“Jordan,” he slinks down onto the sofa next to me, looking defeated. “You’ve been around wine your entire life. Your mom? She was born into this decades ago. I can’t expect to fool a woman who probably has Cabernet running through her veins.”
“You’re being dramatic,” I say. I hope my face is convincing. My mom is tough, and I’m not totally sure how this is going to go. That’s why I have to be there too. “Listen, I’m going to sit in with you two. If you get stuck, I’ll take over. I promise you this is going to work.”
“And what if it doesn’t?” Enzo asks. “Then what?”
“If it doesn’t…” I hadn’t really allowed myself to consider what would happen if Mom finds out that I’ve been lying to her. That Enzo and I have been lying to her. She wouldn’t just be furious with him, there would be consequences for me as well. I’m not sure she’d let me stay on at Golden Leaf either. It’s worth the risk, though. This vineyard is everything to my family, I can’t just sit by and let it Mom lose everything that she’s worked for—that her parents worked for when there are things we could be doing to stay afloat. So what if Mom is afraid of change. Enzo and I can do this. Together.
“If it doesn’t, I owe you dinner,” I say. It’s not even close to enough of the type of consolation prize he’d deserve if this plan goes south, but I’m not willing to consider real stakes.
Enzo chuckles. It’s deep and sexy and a little rough. “I think if I lose this job, I’m going to need more than dinner, Caletti.”
“Oh, yeah? What’d you have in mind?” I say. I take a step closer to him. I don’t even know if it’s voluntary or my body has decided on its own to get closer. That smile draws me in whether I want it to or not.
He tilts his head back and forth, weighing his options. The way he looks at me, I’d offer up anything at this point.
“Dinner and one—nah, at least two cases of beer. It’s gonna take a lot of liquid courage to go crawling back down South once I lose my job and my place to live,” Enzo says.
I let out a soft, fake laugh. Trying to hide my disappointment that he didn’t say he wanted me. Alone. Preferably without a stitch of clothing. “Beer. Of course.”
“Right, I mean, the wine here is damn good, but if your mom catches on, I don’t think either one of us will be offered the employee discount. So, yeah, beer it is.” Enzo shrugs and flashes that smile again. “What can I say? I’m a man of simple pleasures.”
“I’ll remember that,” I say. I wipe my hands down the front of my skirt, smoothing the invisible wrinkles, wishing the simple movement would work on my nerves as well.
“Hey now, don’t get too serious, you’re going to worry me.”
He reaches out and touches my fingertips lightly with his own.
I freeze. “Business only, remember?”
It sounds stupid as soon as it comes out. He wasn’t hitting on me. Obviously.
“We just need to get over there, okay?” I say.
Enzo nods slowly and says, “Sure thing, boss.”
He follows me out of the cluttered office and we silently walk down the long hallway. The cream and gold striped wallpaper hasn’t been updated since I was in diapers. I should hate it, but it feels like my childhood. When both of my parents lived under the same roof, and were on the same team. When everything in my life didn’t feel like it was up in the air. I run my finger along the thick, patterned paper as we walk, playing out every possible scenario in my head. What if Mom asks for details about Enzo’s previous experience? I was pretty vague when I explained his past job duties. What if she shuts me down when I try to take over talking for him? What if—
“Hey,” Enzo says, startling me. He tugs on my forearm just before we reach Mom’s office, pulling me in close to him.
“We didn’t talk about what happens if we pull this off in there,” he says. His breath is warm on my face, I step in closer.
“Of course we’re going to pull it off,” I say, more confidently than I feel. “I’m sure of it.”
“Okay, so when we pull it off, we need stakes for that, too.”
“I’m listening,” I tease. Or try to tease. Or try not to choke on my words, because my God, those damn eyes might be hypnotizing me.
“A date. We make your mother believe that I’m the real deal, you let me take you out, Jordan. A proper date.” His thumb makes this gentle back and forth motion on the delicate skin of my wrist. He doesn’t seem to notice it, but my heart beats in time, like a metronome, to the rhythm he sets.
Yes. Yes, please, take me on a date. Take me anywhere you want to go, Enzo.
I twist my arm away as casually as I can and try to steer the conversation back to a safe place where my heart isn’t out of control and I’m not slowly drowning in the depths of his hazel eyes. “We already agreed to dinner if we fail, Enzo.”
“I didn’t say dinner. I said a date.”
How does he manage to keep his voice so calm?
“Maybe,” I say, stumbling a little as I try to step away from him. “We’ll see what happens.”
“No ‘maybe’s,’ Caletti. We make this work, you’re going out with me.” He closes the space between us again, and this time, I freeze. The only thing moving is my heart, beating wildly, slamming into my ribs. His lips are close to my ear as he whispers, “I’m dying to see what you’re like when you really let your hair down. Or can you only do that when White Snake is playing and you’re wearing a fancy bridesmaid dress?”
It’s so quiet, I doubt whether I heard him correctly or not.
He pulls back and smiles,
his canines gleaming, his soft lips curved so beautifully.
That smile. Good god, that smile is doing very bad things to me.
“Oh holy Jesus, please don’t mention me getting drunk at the wedding in front of my mother,” I gasp, trying to imagine just how furious my mother would be with me for getting sloshed in front of everyone at Dad’s wedding. “Don’t mention getting drunk at all. My mother finds it’s disrespectful.”
“Disrespectful?” Enzo double checks, leaning close and crossing his arms.
Is he doing it just to make his biceps bulge. Because mmm…
No! No, I am not getting distracted by his gorgeous anatomy.
“To the grapes,” I say, shushing him when he laughs. “Don’t mention the wedding any more than you have to,” I hiss, glancing to see if Mother is poking her head out to investigate the noise we’re making.
The smile wipes off his face. “It couldn’t have been easy for her.”
The reality of the fact that my parents are no longer together hits out of nowhere, a sucker punch to my throat that leaves me speechless for a few long seconds. “It wasn’t,” I manage to croak.
I close my eyes and so many things flash in front of them: my parents taking me out on trails to horseback ride, our family vacation to my aunt in Nantucket, Dad with his arms around both of us so he could kiss Mother’s cheek, then mine, and call us ‘his girls.’
But that’s all gone now. Life goes on, and it isn’t always easy or particularly nice.
“Don’t you dare look at her like that,” I say dryly, steamrolling my own flighty, soft feelings.
“Like what?” he asks.
Innocently. I guess he has no clue how soft those gorgeous eyes of his go when he feels sorry for someone.
“Like you feel bad for her,” I warn. “Etta Caletti loathes pity. Ready?”
Enzo blinks twice, and I take that as a ‘yes.’
Ready or not, here we come.
I pull the door open to my mom’s office, square my shoulders, and walk in.
“Jordan, I didn’t realize you were joining us.” Mom is perched behind her desk like an ice queen on her throne. She doesn’t even flick her eyes up to meet mine.
Almost Lover Page 6
