“You know, if you’re in the market—” Pam began, but Ashley was already tugging me away from the table.
I shoved the business card in my tiny purse, trying not to stumble in my wedges as she pulled us into the mass of bodies closer to the dance floor. “That was so rude. She might offer me a job!”“That’s wonderful, but we came here for a man. You don’t have one of those already, so that’s what we need to focus on.” Ashley scanned the crowd.“You don’t have one either, but you don’t see me trying to set you up,” I pouted.“Hey, you’re the one who’s been complaining about being single, not me.” Ashley’s gaze snagged on something behind me. Or should I say someone.“Hey, champ. Come dance with my friend.” Ashley grabbed a tall blond-haired guy by the bicep.He didn’t seem perturbed by a random girl grabbing him. He smiled at me, right before his gaze slid down to my chest. Sigh. Well, he didn’t have boat shoes. And he had actual hair on his legs. Not too much. Not too little. Okay, this could work.“It’s actually Chad,” he yelled back over the loud music with a wink. One for Ashley and one for me. Impressive. All that blinking would have had me dizzy if I tried it.Ashley’s nose twitched and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. It was an inside joke. Anytime I went on a bad date and came home to tell her the story, we labeled the guy as a Chad. And now she was setting me up with an actual Chad. What could possibly go wrong?“Yeah, okay, let’s just go with Champ.” Ashley spun him around and literally pushed him at me.He finished putting something in his pocket and put his hands on my hips. “I guess we’re dancing, babe.”I winced, but put my hands on his very broad and muscled shoulders. “It’s El, actually.”He shrugged and pulled me into his body. Oh my. The boy definitely worked out. “I prefer babe.”Of course he did. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and right then I was one step away from begging for some action in the romance department. “So, you must love wine, huh?” I said loudly, trying to make myself heard as he steered us into the middle of the crowded dance floor.His grin was lopsided and quite cute in a mischievous boy kind of way. “Nah. I prefer beer or whiskey, but free wine isn’t so bad.” His hands slid a little further south, now resting on the top slope of my considerable junk in the trunk. I’d been “blessed” with curves and while the booty was in fashion right now, I could have done with a little less volume all around. Especially when Chad’s gaze slid back down to where my boobs were exploding out of my sundress.“How about you? Here for the free wine or the music?” he asked my chest.“Honestly?” Thinking of Pam, I let it fly. “I’m here for the guys.”His gaze flew to my face and his eyes did some weird smoldery thing that reminded me of Aladdin. Probably worked on a lot of girls, but it was making me want to quote Disney movies.And this, ladies and gentlemen, was why I was currently single. The flirt gene had passed me by.“Oh, really,” Chad said right as he held me so tight I wasn’t sure if breathing would be an option. He twirled me around and then his face was in my neck.“Oh!” I wasn’t sure if that shiver was because whatever he was doing felt good or if it was because I was insanely ticklish.He sloppily kissed behind my ear. Both hands slid down to grab my backside and I was pretty sure he had just licked my neck. With a jolt, I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away. “Sorry, gotta find the restrooms. Be right back.”And then I spun and walked away, not sure where Ashley was or where the bathrooms were either. I just knew I needed a second to catch my breath and pep-talk myself into more flirting with Chad. If I called it quits now, Ashley would just find me another Chad, and he might not be as cute as this one—even if the guy had licked me. I saw the green porta-potties and made a beeline for them. Thankfully there wasn’t a line yet. I hoped that meant the stench wasn’t deadly yet either.I didn’t actually need to relieve myself, but I did use the toilet paper to blot the sweat happening under my arms. I’d tried every deodorant under the sun and not one lived up to its antiperspirant claims. I’d learned to blot a lot and never, ever wear gray. Oh, and breezes were lifegiving.“Come on, El. Time to put the girls out there and reel him in. You got this,” I muttered to myself as I stepped out of the porta-potty, now moisture- free and ready to flirt even if it killed me.I saw Chad’s bouncing blond head as he danced to a fast song by himself. He looked a little crazy, but I had to hand it to him for having the confidence to be out there on the dance floor without a partner. Pushing between couples, I made my way over. Right before I got to him, Ashley caught my attention, dancing with a guy I’d never seen before. She mimed writing something down and then putting a phone to her ear.Ah man, she wanted me to get his number, and I knew she’d dog me until I did. The moisture was back.“Hey!” I waited for the timing to be just right and touched Chad’s arm when it wasn’t flailing through the air.“Oh, hey, babe,” he said with a smile aimed at my face, then my boobs, then my face. Oh, nope. Back to the boobs. “You’re back.”I nodded. “Yep, I’m back. Hey, so I was wondering if I could get your phone number?” I mean, I wasn’t sure I wanted it, but it would get Ashleyoff my back, so I’d go along with this sham.He licked his lips. “For sure. Got your phone in that bag of yours?” He gestured to the tiny purse strapped across my chest, reminding me it was there.I fumbled with the zipper, trying to get my phone out. Come on, fingers, cooperate. “Ready.”He gave it to me and I typed it in under Chad the Neck Licker. “Awesome. I’ll text you later, but I’ve gotta go.”He bobbed his head. “Okay, yeah, cool.” For some reason I felt like we both knew in that moment that I wouldn’t be texting him.I walked away, dodging the other dancers and wiggling my phone in the air to Ashley so she knew I got his number. Phew. Now the pressure was off. I could enjoy my afternoon without feeling like a failure in the man department. I was no closer to that white picket fence and two-point-five children, but at least I might have found a new job.Wandering through the first row of tents, I had a gut-wrenching memory of the oldest Cunningham brother informing me that I lacked a general sense of professionalism when I’d interviewed for a sales position at West Wines a few months back. That had hands-down been the most humiliating moment of my life. He’d sat there in his designer suit with his perfect hair and Rolex watch that cost more than my beater of a car, and told me I needed more polish. Sure, I’d been sweating like a pig just to get up the nerve to interview for the position, but I didn’t need him to be so specific with his criticism. Not my fault the donuts he’d brought in that morning for the company had been jelly filled. It was the white shirt curse. You wear a white shirt, you’re going to spill something on it. Everyone knew that was a law of the universe. Again, not my fault I came into the interview wearing my donut.But that was in the past. Today, the sun was shining, the music was perfect, and I had a sweet lady willing to consider giving me my dream job—assuming it paid well. Life was pretty darn good, even if I never actually texted Chad the Neck Licker.I felt an evil grin light my face. Daydreaming about telling my boss to shove his “professionalism” where the sun didn’t shine brightened up my day considerably.The rest of the wine festival went well—at least from a sales perspective. I introduced myself and West Wines to a few wineries I hadn’t spoken to before, making connections that would hopefully help us grow. Dad had made us one of the biggest distributors in this part of the state, but there was always competition. And now that West Wines was going to essentially support the launch of Mom’s winery, well, I didn’t want to tell her this, but it was going to be tight for a bit.My mother wasn’t wrong about needing help. Besides not having the first clue how to make wine, she wasn’t much of a salesperson. She was too kind. If I left it to her, she’d be giving the wine away. Jacques already had his hands full in the winery—he’d mentioned that Mom was a lot more prepared to embrace the “art” side of winemaking than she was willing to undertake the more scientific aspects.But making her own wine was Mom’s dream, and it was the only thing that had made her smile since Dad had died. So even
“I’m glad.”“That one was a firecracker,” he said, nodding at El’s distant form, making slow progress through the parking lot. The fading sun was lighting her blond hair, making it gleam with glints of gold.I faced him. “What do you mean?” My stomach turned over itself uncomfortably. “You didn’t, uh . . .”“What? Here? No.” Chad’s eyes went a little misty and I knew he was picturing it. I kicked myself for putting the idea in his head. He shook his head and his gaze cleared. “Nah, she’s not my type. Too . . . I don’t know. Too something. Seemed kinda overeager, if you want the truth.”“What do you mean?” Could a sweet girl like El really be interested in a guy who called himself ‘The Chadder’?“I mean, I like a girl who’s into it, you know?” “But?”“She asked for my digits. Like five minutes after meeting me.” He nodded like this proved some kind of point. “I’m a pretty serious catch, I know, but even a guy like me likes a little more foreplay than that.”“Dancing at a wine festival
The front door slammed behind me and caught part of thecloth shopping bag I had in my hands to take to Mom’s house. I tried to pull it free, but it was lodged pretty good. With a sigh, I grabbed my keys out of my purse to open my place back up, but then I fumbled the keys and almost spilled my travel mug of coffee.“Careful there, El,” came the voice I tried to avoid when I was running low on time or patience.Frank. My duplex neighbor.I gave him a weak smile, which froze in place when I saw him standing in his bathrobe and boxers, scratching his considerable beer belly. He had one of his female mannequins sitting in the single chair he could squeeze in on his tiny front porch. Usually, he kept those ladies inside the house, which was creepy enough. No need to bring them outside and remind us he had a few screws loose.“Off to your mom’s?” he called across our adjoining decks, then took a huge slurp of coffee before offering the cup to his inanimate friend.My routine was highly pre
She swung her arms out to the side, one of her splints catching me on the shoulder and nearly knocking me down. Her voice came out at a decibel equal to a rocket taking off in Florida. “It’s always about the boobs!”Heads swiveled and I was done. I pushed the cart out of the store, studiously ignoring her like I wasn’t with the crazy lady shouting about boobs. She would catch up eventually. Probably.The only mercy was that in all the conversation throughout the store, I hadn’t told Mom about Chad. Or the fact that I’d actually texted him last night in a moment of weakness. Ashley had been hounding me all afternoon to text him just to see what would happen. At twenty-eight, you’d think peer pressure wouldn’t be a thing anymore, but I was alive and well to tell you that it is. And it got me. I texted Chad and he’d texted me back and now the ball was in my court. Me and sports didn’t get along, so I knew nothing about what to do with this flirt ball or where my court even was. And also,
I shouldn’t have texted with her. I should have told her right away that I wasn’t Chad. I almost forgot she thought I was until that last text came in.Beautiful Accountant: Enjoy your work. Goodnight, Chad.I sat back in Dad’s chair, the loud groan of the hinges sending a wave of deep sadness rolling through me. The single lamp was on over the desk, and the room was otherwise dark and quiet. Seeing my phone light up with El’s name had brightened the place—and my evening—but the brutal reminder that she didn’t even know who she was texting dimmed things considerably.That and the news that she was going to quit.It was probably that information that had stopped me from coming clean. She was leaving anyway, and though Solano Creek wasn’t a big place, I spent all my time at West Wines or Cunning Ham Winery. The odds I’d ever see her again felt miniscule. And who knew if she was even staying here? I knew nothing about Isabel Watson.Nothing except that she was beautiful. And smart. And t
Beautiful Accountant: Not possible. Me: but he’s probably not as hot.Beautiful Accountant: No one is as hot. Doesn’t matter though. I’m done.Despite the fact I was now grinning at her assessment of me, two things occurred to me. One, Chad would not be as excited about her descriptions of me as I was. And two, she was still planning to leave, which dulled my happiness considerably.Me: Maybe there’s one person who is almost as ‘hot’? Like, for instance… me?Beautiful Accountant: Gah. I’m the only person who can put a foot in her mouth via text. Of course you are. Sorry.Me: Thank you.What kind of weird world was I in? I needed to make sure Chad’s feelings weren’t forgotten even though he didn’t care in the least about hers.I needed to come clean.I’d tell her at eleven. When she gave notice.***But at eleven, I was in the midst of a crisis. One of our most sought- after wineries had just called to tell us they’d had a storage issue in their wine cave, and half of last year’s bottl
Crap on a cracker. Please tell me this wasn’t happening.Inside I was cackling like Mom, complete with a coughing fit and some chest thumps to keep the ol’ ticker going, absolutely hysterical with the ironic turn of events. Outwardly, I was dying a slow death, frozen on the spot while all the realizations came tumbling through my brain to slap me in the face. Boston, my soon to be ex-boss, was the son of my new boss. And I’d told my new boss straight to her face that her son was an ass. I’d be fired before I even got the first day of training under my belt. And I couldn’t go back to West Wines once Pam told Boston why I’d been fired. Why couldn’t my life ever be smooth and graceful?My eyeballs dared to move, eyeing the black polo shirt Pam had in her hands that was to have been mine. I saw the cute pig logo, the one I would have proudly worn as I poured wines and schmoozed my way to higher and higher commissions. The Cunning Ham. Boston Cunningham. It was all coming together now. Wha
I guessed it also made me inhale sharply because the next thing I knew, one of the buttons on my polo decided enough was enough and shot straight toward Boston, pinging him on the chest before falling to the floor.“Oh!” I gasped, one hand going to the gaping hole on my shirt, the other covering my gaping mouth.Boston made a noise that sounded an awful lot like he was being strangled. He bent down and picked up the button, putting it on the counter and looking away. “Maybe you should just unbutton it and put that last button out of its misery.”My face flamed a thousand degrees. I looked down to see the remaining button sweating bullets. I took pity on it and unbuttoned it, which saved the button from popping off, but gave a wider expanse of cleavage than I preferred in a work setting. In a stroke of genius, I remembered a tool that would save the day. Spinning around, I took the clip off the cute bulletin board behind me that housed all the laminated wine menus, clamping it onto my