They trekked up the slope to the main house, stomping the snow and dirt off their boots before going inside, and each hung up their coat on hooks in the mudroom, Hemmy at their heels. As always.
Alexis wanted to be the last to eat, her stomach still turning in anxious knots over the prospect of her first batch of ice wine, but Ben gently nudged her ahead of him.
“Ladies first.”
“I’m not eating much.”
“Yes, you are. You’re about to put in ten hours of hard labor in the freezing cold. If you don’t take care of yourself you’ll be no good to your crew.”
It irked her how right he was. “Whatever.” Ugh. There goes that word again. She was sounding more and more like a teenage girl every day. Kind of like her sister, who she missed like crazy, even if Grace drove her mad half the time. When they were together, all was fine. It was when she was away—which had been a lot lately—that Alexis’s resentment grew.
She ate in silence, not paying much attention to the chatter at the dining room table, finding comfort in her dog at her feet. Curtis, Ryan, and Carter peppered Ben with questions about the other coast—if California girls were all tall, blonde, and hot like the movies portrayed, and if he liked his wine better than Coastal Vines.
Shane, Claudia, and Alexis paused, waiting for his response.
Ben sipped his Lobster Red, Alexis’s favorite of their reds, and dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Shrimp or scallops? Lobster or crab? Haddock or Striper? Why do we have to choose? It’s all delicious.”
“Crab? Dude, there’s no comparison. Maine lobster wins all the time.”
“Says the Maine lobsterman.” Ben picked up his wine glass and toasted Ryan. “I look forward to sampling some of the lobster that comes off your boat.”
“Now’s the time to eat lobster. Them claws are chock full of meat right now. Kinda like a bear storing up on food for the winter.”
Once dinner was eaten and bellies were full, Alexis led her small crew outside again.
“I’ll keep an eye on the shmucks.” Brady rested his arm across Alexis’s shoulders. They’d been close friends since elementary schools. Both into sports and their farms, both not the least bit interested in the popularity contests and drama.
“I appreciate it. Thanks for helping. I owe you big time.”
Brady picked up a crate and strolled off to the west side of the field.
As soon as he left Ben pulled her aside as the men continued toward the fire.
“Here. I saw these things at Boon’s and thought they might come in handy.” He pulled out a bunch of packages of hand and foot warmers.
“Do you even know what they do?”
“Yeah. Boon said you put them in your gloves and they keep your hands warm. Ingenious, really.”
“They’re a staple around here.” Alexis pulled out two wrappers from her coat pocket. “Although I don’t recommend putting them in your gloves. We want to keep the grapes frozen. Put them in your boots though.”
Ben laughed. “You weren’t going to tell me about these snazzy little inventions, were you? Hoping I’d lose a toe or something?”
“Or something.” Had she known ahead of time that Ben would be around for the harvest she probably would have given him toe warmers. “If you can’t handle the cold, this job may be too much for you.”
“The weather I can handle.”
“As opposed to…?”
Ben winked at her and shoved the warmers in his coat pocket. “You don’t scare me, Alexis Le Blanc. Bring it on.”
“Oh really?” She ran her tongue across her teeth and assessed her competition. No, he wasn’t competition. He was…a challenge? No. A competitor for sure. And Alexis didn’t like to lose.
“Ten bucks says you run inside to thaw out before I do.”
“Ten? That’s all?” Ben pulled his knit cap lower, covering his ears, and assessed her thoroughly with his pretty eyes. “Loser has to give the other a foot massage. In front of the fire.”
“Gross. I don’t touch feet.”
“Know you’ll lose, huh?”
Her stubborn Irish gene won out. “As if. Game on, Italian boy.”
“Why not Italian Stallion?”
“Please.” Alexis rolled her eyes and hid her smile as she marched off toward the fire. She checked the weather app on her phone one more time. Pleased with the report, she put it back in her pocket and called out to her help. “Time to roll, people. Remember to keep the grapes frozen at all times. No handling them or bringing them by the fire. The barn door must stay opened. If it gets too cold, you can go into the tasting room. Mom has coffee and muffins by the fireplace.”
She handed out clippers to everyone, picked up her empty wooden crate, and marched off to her Rieslings.
An hour later they had enough grapes to start the first run on the press. She gently and slowly placed the grapes in the press and watched the magic appear. Her heart raced and her feet tapped restlessly.
“This isn’t something you get to see every day, especially in Napa Valley. Mind if I help?”
Too excited to care about Ben invading her space, she nodded in agreement. “I can’t say I know much about ice wine. Why is it so important to press the grapes while they’re still frozen?”
Alexis’s cheeks hurt from smiling, from the cold, from her accomplishment. She did it. After three years of research and Mother Nature on her side, she’d harvested a successful crop of ice grapes.
This time, the lightness in her chest and racing heartbeat had nothing to do with Ben’s proximity. Tonight was about her dream coming true. For years she’d kept the winery running by staying true to Grumpy’s formulas and producing consistently classic wine.
Picking and pressing the frozen grapes and turning them into ice wine was about her dreams, her goals, her accomplishments. Alexis wasn’t following in someone else’s footsteps. Tonight she was trailblazing her own path, making her own mark in the wine world.
Her senses heightened, she could practically taste the sweetness in the air and her excitement came out in a flurry of words.
“The water in the juice remains frozen as ice crystals during the pressing, and only a few drops of the sweet concentrated juice are obtained from each grape. Most of the water, which is ice right now, is left behind.” She hummed as she busied herself around the press, slowly adding grapes to the feeder. “Look at this gorgeousness. Not a drop of water.”
“Like Curtis said earlier, a lot of work for a few drops.”
“And totally worth it. Do you know how many gallons of maple sap is needed to make one gallon of syrup?” She didn’t care for his or Curtis’s skepticism, and wouldn’t let either one of them bring her down from her euphoric high.
“Can’t say I do.”
“Forty.” Alexis continued to feed the grapes through the press, her heart beating more rapidly with each bunch. When the box was empty, Ben pushed it aside and brought over another.
“Don’t tell any sugar house in New England that it’s a waste of time.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. So what happens after the pressing?”
“After racking and clearing the sediment, the clear juice is inoculated with a strong yeast culture.”
“Same as regular wine. Anything different with the rest of the process?”
Tempted to warm her hands, preferably under Ben’s coat, she resisted the urge and took in a gulp of icy cold air. “You can feel the dry, cold in your lungs. It’s fascinating, and what makes for ideal conditions. The juice from frozen grapes is very sweet, and can be difficult to ferment. The high sugars can create a hostile environment for the yeast. Fermentation stops early, leaving relatively low alcohol and high sugar levels in the finished wine. It can take weeks to months to age. I’ll have to check it regularly as I really don’t know what to expect.”
Now she sounded like a tour guide, but she didn’t care. There weren’t many wineries in the U.S. that made real ice wine. “You know, many attem
pt this and fail. They end up with icebox wine.” She prayed she didn’t fail. Rejection had come to her in many ways over the years, and this was not another one she wanted to add to her list.
“What’s that?” Curtis and Ryan, and any man she’d dated, would roll their eyes at her monologue, but Ben studied her with interest and an unfamiliar warmth spread in her chest.
Alexis broke off leaves and twigs from a bunch of grapes and tossed them aside in a barrel. Hemmy nudged his nose in the scraps, finding a decent size branch to chew on. “It’s when winemakers pick the grapes before they freeze, and then basically stick them in a freezer. It’s not the real deal. Still a nice wine, but fools gold, you know?”
“I can’t wait to taste the final product.”
Alexis lifted her gaze from the press and snorted. “You won’t be around.”
“I’ll come back.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Just like Brandon did. Sure, Ben may come back someday to pay her family a visit, to look in on his investment, but he wouldn’t be coming back to see Alexis. No one ever did.
Charlie, Drew, Pete. They were part of her group as well. Once they flitted off to points of yonder, none of them gave her a second thought. They all had wives and kids, and were living the life in bigger cities.
Ben held up a bunch of grapes for Alexis and she took them without making eye contact.
“I’m running out of grapes.”
“I’ll go check on the others.” He left and a wave of guilt fermented in her belly.
He had been nothing but sweet and kind, offering his time in the middle of the night to help her family harvest. He’d taken the clippers out of her mom’s hands an hour ago and asked if she could make more coffee for the crew. It wasn’t a chauvinistic move, but a subtle way to get Claudia to take a break and warm up.
Alexis noticed the care he took in snipping the bunches of grapes, the finesse in how he handled each grape as if it were a delicate piece of china. She’d also noticed how he did most of the hauling of the grapes to the barn, taking the physical load off her father’s back.
While she ran back and forth from the press to the vines, she never saw Ben take a break. He never complained, never stood around doing nothing. His concern for others was evident when he reminded each, almost hourly, to go inside and have some coffee, or to change out their wet gloves for a dry pair.
“You’re allowed coffee and bathroom breaks, you know,” she said to him when he returned with another crate of frozen grapes.
“I’m good. I’d like to see the sunrise. I bet it’s gorgeous coming up over the horizon.”
She followed him out to the frozen ground where the vines were nearly picked clean. They were planted on the south side of the slope so they would get the most amount of sun. Ben had made his way down the final row of grapes and stood, stretching his back and arms. “We may have the prettiest sunsets in the country, but I hear no one can hold a candle to a Maine sunrise.”
“The top of Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park is the first place in the United States that sees the sun.”
“Have you ever been up there at sunrise?”
“No.” And she didn’t need another reminder of all the things she had yet to do in her life.
There was an adventurous side in Alexis that she’d curbed when she hit her twenties and realized this was where she belonged. On her family’s winery in coastal Maine. Men, money, vacations, a social life…none of them mattered anymore.
Or at least, she didn’t want them to. Not when that’s what ruled her sister’s life. Not when boys passed Alexis over, or used her to get to Grace. Better to lay low and dive into work.
“When I come back I’m going to drag your sweet little behind up that mountain, and we’re going to sample your ice wine.”
“In the morning?”
“Why not?”
“I think Curtis and Ryan can finish with the grapes. Why don’t you go inside and warm up?” She ignored his suggestion knowing he was full of false promises, and trudged her tired legs back toward the barn.
They’d cleared nearly all the vines with time to spare, and produced more wine than she expected. It was still too soon to abandon her grapes and the press. She wanted—needed—to have her hands in the action.
Now that she knew she’d have ice wine to bottle, Alexis needed to order spilts. The thin bottles were stylish, and a collector’s item for many.
“Have you thought of a name for your ice wine?”
“I have a couple I’ve been playing with.”
“How about Crystal Ice?”
“What?” Alexis stopped in her tracks in front of the barn.
“It’s catchy. Brings recognition to your town as well as your wine.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Thin air?”
“Oh my God! I love it.” She really did, and wasn’t too proud to admit he actually came up with a good idea.
“What ideas are you tossing around?”
“They’re dumb. Grace is actually the one with the knack for names.”
“Lobster Red is very catchy.”
“Grace’s idea. I thought it was tacky, but people love it. I’ve been thinking about Coastal Ice, or Mainely Ice.” Ben scrunched his nose. “See? Stupid. Told you so.”
“You’re extremely talented in other areas.” He took the crate of grapes from Alexis and carried them inside the barn, leaving her flattered and flushed.
She took over the press, giving her parents a break, insisting they go inside to warm up or take a nap. When she was alone again, her thoughts drifted from grapes to bottles to warm, blue eyes.
“You look like you could use this.” Ben filled the doorway, a mug of coffee in one hand, a muffin in the other.
She stepped down from the stool she was on and rubbed her gloved hands together. “Coffee sounds wonderful. I can’t believe I haven’t succumbed until now.”
She took the mug from Ben and let the rich, steamy aroma of French beans swarm her face. “I love my mother’s coffee.” She sipped slowly and moaned as the hot liquid coated her throat. He’d even used her favorite French vanilla creamer.
“Claudia said to go heavy on the cream. She thought you’d want the orange cranberry muffin, too.”
“My mother is a saint.” She bit into the sweet treat and held back another moan. Normally she’d be rolling out of bed and shoving a muffin down her throat for breakfast, but this morning it all tasted different.
Special. Hopeful. Full of promises.
Ben tipped an empty crate up on its side and motioned for her to sit, then did the same to another crate and pulled up next to her. “How many bottles do you think you’ll cork?”
“Well,” Alexis started, wiping the crumbs from her lips, “ice wine is traditionally bottled in 375 milliliter bottles.”
“Bellissima.” The Italian accent rolled off Ben’s tongue, and Alexis did all she could not to lap him up.
Curbing her sexual appetite, she bit into her muffin again, followed by a healthy gulp of coffee. “You were listening to my lesson earlier.”
“I always listen to you.” His heated stare, the intimacy of the cold barn, the sleepless night, all were weighing heavily on her libido. She needed a distraction. Fast.
“Where’d you get the coffee?”
Ben tilted his head sideways, apparently confused with her change of topic and odd question. “In the tasting room, where it’s been set up all night. Why?”
“So you went inside to get it?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Score one for Alexis. “Looks like you owe me a foot massage.”
The sun was a bright ball of light in the sky and the temperature a cool twenty-five by the time Ben left the Le Blancs’. They hadn’t made plans for the foot massage yet, but he wouldn’t let Alexis out of it before he left. Even though he’d lost, he’d absolutely won.
Ben wouldn’t be able to touch her feet and not think about touching her in other are
as. Maybe after a warm shower and a nap he’d have more control over his urges.
Hours later, when he woke and stretched, Ben rolled over and checked his cell, surprised to have a text from Alexis.
My feet are sore. Pay up.
Ben chuckled and typed a quick reply.
Meet me at the inn at six.
He wanted to elaborate, to tell her he’d wine and dine her first, then bring her to the comfort of his suite, and give her a full body massage in front of the fire.
Although he’d settle for the parlor downstairs.
For now.
Ben wasn’t betting the family vineyard on getting her up to his room tonight.
After another shower, he grabbed a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt, hoping casual was the way to go. He glanced at the mirror and realized he hadn’t shaved before his first shower, too exhausted to think about it, and hadn’t even thought about it with the second.
The well-past five o’clock shadow would have to do. Ben opened the jar of hair product, swiped his finger across it and did a quick finger comb through his hair. He’d need a cut when he got home. He needed to do many things when he got home.
Including checking in on Felicia. Not that he owed it to her, but he’d continue to support her until…He yanked at his hair in frustration. At the situation. At Felicia. At himself. Mostly himself. He had no right pursuing Alexis. Not now. Not until after…
Putting that part of his life in the back of his mind, he focused on business. It was booming, and taking the week off to do pro bono in Maine only put him further behind. Not that he was working terribly hard or complaining. Normally his business trips meant long hours in conference rooms, ass kissing, more meetings, late nights in his sterile condo reworking Power Points and sketches.
While he did spend a late night reworking the design and long term plan for the Le Blancs, the rest was more like a working vacation. Even staying up for twenty-four hours in near sub- zero temperatures, working his fingers to the bone was more relaxing than his usual gig.
And he couldn’t say he missed the suits. Ben had always been comfortable in a three-piece suit. Even the occasional tux for charity events didn’t bother him. Yet when he threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt he felt more like a…man.
At First Blush (A Well Paired Novel Book 1) Page 10
