by Jen Talty
“I owe you an explanation.” Weezer strolled in wearing a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, her combat boots, and of course, perfectly styled hair and makeup. She truly was a beautiful woman, but she was a walking contradiction. She had a tough-as-nails exterior with an intimidating personality. However, it took a lot to frighten Eliza Jane.
Now, Malbec? He utterly terrified her, but for very different reasons.
“I should say so.” Eliza Jane set the wine glass down, folded her arms across her chest, and leaned against the counter. She’d been in Candlewood Falls for a week and had barely had a chance to settle in. She’d known she’d meet the prodigal son at some point; she’d just hoped it would be long after she’d had the chance to feel secure in her position at the winery. “Besides being scared that someone had broken into the cottage, I’m concerned about my future and what you promised me. So, I need you to be straight with me because your son is adamant that he’s selling The River Winery.”
“He has no authority to do so,” Weezer said. “Carter and I own it, so unless Malbec can somehow find me incompetent and get my husband to agree to sell, it’s impossible.” She pulled up a stool, took the glass, and brought it to her nose. “Jesus. What was I thinking? This isn’t good.”
“It’s not the worst.”
“But it’s not up to my standards,” Weezer said, letting out a long breath. “I owe you an apology.”
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that Weezer River never apologizes.”
“You heard wrong.” Weezer smiled. “I almost never say I’m sorry. But I do when I do something wrong. However, you’re going to have to keep this to yourself. We can’t go having the world believing I’ve gone soft.” She waggled her finger. “Otherwise, I might have to take it back.”
“Okay.” This had to be the worst apology ever, but the fact that she was getting one at all, especially considering everyone had told her that Weezer would screw her over, said something about how the world might not know the real Weezer. “I’ll keep it to myself if your explanation is to my satisfaction. And if my contract is still intact.”
“Fair enough,” Weezer said. “First, I’ll tear up that contract and give you a permanent job right now. I know you’re good. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. And you can make your own wine with your name on it. But remember, it can’t be one that we already make. Obviously, because of my kids. Or one that my grandfather used make because I’d like you to bring those back. It was a mistake to ever retire those blends. I only did so because I couldn’t handle the production. But with you here, we can grow that process together with Malbec.”
Eliza Jane opened her mouth because no way was Malbec getting in her way, but Weezer cut her off.
“I did use you, and I did lie to my son. I told him that I found a buyer, just to get him to take time off work and come home. I thought he’d become jealous of your skill and worry that he could lose all of this and want to be a part of it again.” She lifted both her hands, palms to the ceiling. “And I hoped that some sparks would fly, and he’d stay home for good this time.”
“That’s quite a tall order.” Eliza Jane’s pulse kicked into high gear. She didn’t know whether to laugh or hightail it back to the west coast. This had to be the most absurd scheme she’d ever heard.
However, she had to admit; she was insanely flattered that Weezer held her in such high regard.
On all accounts.
“I should quit,” she stated boldly. “I don’t like games.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. But I’d like you to stay. I know it’s going to take a couple of years to turn this place around, but we can do it.” Weezer lifted her finger. “However, I have one condition.”
Eliza Jane might have a few of her own. “What’s that?” She swallowed. She’d been warned about how ruthless Weezer could be.
“If you ever decide you want to leave The River Winery, then the Eliza Jane Blue label, or whatever you decide to call it, stays with this winery. You can’t take it with you.” Weezer arched a brow. “You’d be using my grapes. And the process would be developed here. It’s only fair.”
Essentially, Eliza Jane would agree to stay in Candlewood Falls forever.
Or give up her name if something happened.
And she’d promised her father on his death bed that when she did find the right winery to make the perfect blend, her name would be displayed proudly on the bottle. It had been so important to her father and she would honor him that way.
That request had seemed to come out of the blue, but there were so many things about her family’s history that she didn’t understand. Besides, her great-grandfather had the talent and the passion.
He just didn’t have the disposition.
“I can accept that part of the deal,” Eliza Jane said. “What percentage of the label are we talking about?”
“Equal partners,” Weezer said. “Only I won’t have a single say in how you make your wine. It’s just I’ll be funding it.”
“I think that’s fair,” Eliza Jane said. “However, I need to have more skin in the game.” Her heart beat so fast, she thought it might jump right out of her chest. She hadn’t expected to be negotiating this part of the deal for at least a year, but if they were going with a more permanent situation, then there was no way she was moving forward without knowing Weezer’s intention.
And getting it in writing.
“What kind of skin are we talking?”
“Two and a half percent in a year. Five percent in five years. Ten percent in seven years.”
“That’s a lot of skin in my winery.”
“I will be the one doing most of the work,” Eliza Jane said. “And it needs to be done in a way that if anyone sells, my portion can’t be sold with it. So, I will either have to be bought out or be taken along for the ride.”
“I’ll have to discuss that with Carter and all my children since this affects them, too, before I agree and put it in writing, but I think we can come to terms.”
“You do that, and we’ve got ourselves a deal.”
And that sealed her fate.
Now, all she had to do was make sure Malbec stayed the hell out of her way. That might be easier said than done.
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”
“One more thing.” Eliza Jane rubbed her hand over her thigh. Every night before she went to bed, she glanced at the image of her great-grandfather. And every night, she got the feeling that whoever had snapped the picture had been right at the river’s edge where Weezer had said the family had planted the very first grapevines.
“I wouldn’t get too greedy, young lady. I’m not a very generous woman, and this is going to be difficult to sell to my family.”
“This isn’t about asking for anything more,” Eliza Jane said. “I’m curious about the year the vineyard was established, and when the first grapevines were planted.”
“Oh, boy. I can’t even remember the year my kids were born.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “My grandfather started out as an illegal bootlegger, so it’s sort of hard to pinpoint a date. It’s why the grapes are so far back by the river.”
“Bootleg wine?” Eliza Jane asked. “I get that during the prohibition. But that wouldn’t have been your grandfather’s time, would it?”
“No. But he made whiskey and wine and sold it, avoiding the taxes, therefore making it illegal. I don’t know exactly what year he went legit. I’d have to look it up.”
“So, the first few years, The River Winery was illegally run, and your family avoided paying money to the government. That’s very interesting. I’m surprised that’s not a story the world talks about.”
“That’s because it’s not the narrative we want the world to know. And you’re not going to repeat it, now, are you?” Weezer hopped off the stool and didn’t give Eliza Jane a chance to answer. “Why don’t we take the barrels that we have left of that particular blend and use them for cheese pairings at some of
the upcoming festivals and to sell as cooking wines. That should take care of some of our issues, and you can get to work making great wines.” Weezer turned and glanced over her shoulder. “And while Malbec is here, take advantage of his abilities. I’m sure you’re just as good as he is, but two great minds could do a lot together—even if only for one week.”
She got the feeling that Malbec was a lot like his mother and not very hands-off. “Are you going to give him any control, even from a distance?”
“He’s smart, and I value his opinion.” She waggled her finger. “You’d be a fool not to tap into that brain of his no matter where in the world that boy of mine is. Now, if anyone comes looking for me, I’m off to chase that damn Alpacino back through the fence. Stupid alpaca manages to find its way onto the vineyard all the time.” Weezer practically skipped out of the room.
Eliza Jane shook her head. She suspected that the woman pretty much got whatever she wanted.
And then some.
However, she did want to find out more about the history of the vineyard and winery. She didn’t care about what Weezer’s grandfather did in the past.
She’d just turned her attention back to the task at hand when the door squeaked again. “What did you for—? Oh. Hi, Malbec.” She blinked a few times, trying to catch her breath. It annoyed her that a man had this kind of effect on her mind and body.
But it was worse that it was Malbec.
Especially since she’d only known him for a day.
While he wasn’t the enemy, at least according to Weezer, he hadn’t entered the room with a beaming smile.
As a matter of fact, he didn’t look happy at all. His lips were drawn into a tight line, and his brow was furrowed. “Hey, Eliza Jane. Have you seen my mom?”
“She just left like ten minutes ago. Said something about an alpaca named Alpacino?”
Malbec’s blue eyes went from dull pools of darkness to a sparkling drink of water in seconds. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I swear she’s in love with that darn animal. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found her down there talking to it. My dad once told us that if she ever left him for real, it would be for an alpaca.”
“They’re funny-looking creatures.”
“You can say that again. But you have to admit, they are kind of cute in their own odd way.”
“If you say so.” In order to keep her mind on anything other than the man standing way too close, causing a warm blanket of heat to spread across her skin, she continued to bottle the tasting and cooking wines. One of the things that had enticed her to come work at The River Winery was their unique way of doing business. While they sold their wines to liquor stores and restaurants across the country, they also did a lot of local festivals and tastings, and they weren’t afraid to think outside of the box, creating an entire line of specialty wines just for cooking and pairings they used at special local events only. It really gave them a hometown feel.
Just like their tagline.
Small town. Big taste.
“Here. Why don’t you let me help you?” Malbec stood next to her and began corking and labeling. While they used a big plant to do the bulk of their bottling, these specialty items were done by hand. It was a nice and special touch to be able to put personal labels on each bottle.
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind. Besides, I wanted to say I’m sorry for barging in on you this morning,” he said as he pulled down the level.
“It was an honest mistake.”
He nodded. “That is true. But I was rude and said some things that I shouldn’t have.”
“Yes. You were. But so was I. You caught me off guard with the things you were saying. However, I’ve since spoken to your mother, and we’re all good.” She glanced in his direction. “I’m not leaving. And your mother isn’t selling.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Normally, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, but Malbec managed to twist her stomach into knots.
“Just so you know, I’m going to do everything in my power to talk her into it, and I’m going to discuss it with people I know in the business. There are some large wineries that would love to buy this place. Whatever agreement you have with Mom, I will do my best to ask them to honor it. But you know how these large companies are.”
One of the bottles slipped from Eliza Jane’s fingers.
He bent over and managed to grab it before it smashed into a million pieces on the wood floor.
But not before red wine spilled all over her jeans.
“Shit,” she mumbled as she snagged a cloth from the counter and patted herself down.
Unfortunately, Malbec had done the same thing.
Awkwardly, she batted his hand away.
“Let me help,” he said softly as he took a cloth and swiped at her thighs.
“I’ve got it.” She reached for the towel. A soft, lingering sensation coated her skin. It felt like a warm, fuzzy blanket on a cool fall day as she snuggled in front of a fireplace, eagerly awaiting the very first snowflake to fall from the sky. It was always the anticipation of what might happen, and part of her wished she hadn’t pushed him away and let him clean up the wine that soaked into the fabric now sticking to her legs.
“Why would start a conversation with major liquor corporations?” She took a step back and glared. She needed to focus on the problem and now how badly she wanted to feel his lips on hers, because that would only make this situation worse.
“Because they acquire small wineries like this all the time,” he said. “The vineyard I work at used to be a small, family-owned operation. But ten years ago, Venture Liquors bought it out. At the same time, they snatched up the surrounding land and expanded the vineyard. It’s really given us the opportunity to become a household name. Not to mention, the original owners are sitting pretty financially.”
“Not everything comes down to money, and you run the risk of ruining your family’s special blends. You know they will come in and change the process, and the flavor of your wines will change as a result. They will never be the same.”
“My mother’s already screwed that up.” He waved the bottle in her face. “Can’t you smell that? It’s nearly ruined.”
She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes for a long moment. She couldn’t deny what was literally right under her nose. “Yes,” she whispered. “But—”
“No buts. My mother has let this place go, and it will take years to rebuild the wines and our reputation if we remain a small family-run operation.”
She narrowed her stare and poked him in the chest. “And whose fault is that?”
“Are you saying it’s mine?”
“You’re the one who went off to Napa Valley for some corporate winery job and left your mother to fend for herself, aren’t you?” She couldn’t believe the words that flew from her lips. She didn’t know this man or his history with his family. She only knew what others said. And she, of all people, should know that it could be a bunch of misunderstandings and half-truths, considering what the world had thought about her great-grandfather.
“Are you kidding me? I make one of the finest wines in the country.”
“Just because it costs a pretty penny doesn’t mean it’s all that great. And does it have your name on it? No. Did you create it? No. You follow a recipe that has been in place for how many years now?”
“I tweak it from year to year. Just like we do here.”
“Your mother created seven fresh blends all on her own. And before that, your grandparents created six blends. And let’s not forget the whiskey that came out of this winery during the prohibition. The River Winery is a leader. All you do is follow the herd.” She brushed her hair from her face. “I’d rather be a pioneer than just another cog in the machine.” She tossed the rag onto the counter and stormed out of the room, wishing she knew where the hell this alpaca named Alpacino was.
He sounded like he might be a good listener.
5
Malbec
“A cog in the machine?” Malbec whispered as he followed her outside and around the building. There was no way that Eliza Jane had just said that to him, had she? Well, he had something to say about that. “Eliza Jane, wait.” He jogged down the path and skidded to a stop, bringing his hand to his forehead as the sun nearly blinded him.
A flash of dark hair waved in the distance as Eliza Jane took off running toward where the riverbend and the water met the alpaca farm.
Looked as if she might actually want to have a chat with Alpacino.
Wonderful.
What the hell did that animal have that the River men didn’t?
“Eliza Jane,” he called as she wove through the rows of vines. “You don’t get to say those things and just take off.”
She turned. “Oh, yes, I do.” She planted her hands on her hips. “And unless you want to know what I really think of you and your plans, I suggest you leave me alone.”
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her or give her a piece of his mind.
Both were equally appealing for different reasons.
He sucked in a slow breath and counted to ten. Something his father told him to do when he wanted to be like his mom and go off at the mouth.
Only this time, it had to do with controlling his desire to kiss the hell out of this woman, and that kind of made no sense. He shouldn’t be turned on by being insulted.
He closed the gap so he stood only two feet away. “You can believe whatever you want about me and how my leaving for Napa affected my family and this winery. But you don’t know me or my mom or the history, so you’re honestly talking out of your ass.” He reached out and covered her mouth with his hand. “There’s no point in saying another word on that subject. We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
She shoved his hand away. “Then why are we standing here, obviously having an argument?” She arched a brow.
“Because if you want to make your own label, you have to be a cog. And if you can’t accept that, you’ll never survive in this business.” He had to bite back a smile as the look on her face went from tense and angry to tight and confused.
