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“For the record,” I called out. “You’re right. Lainey is too good for me.”
I closed my eyes, letting the silence of the large space engulf me, the smells of the wine settle on me. I might not be the winemaker, or the man who ran the entire company, but this tasting room was my domain, and even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to be serving wine and slinging racks of glasses for the rest of my life, for now, this place was home.
It was 9:59, and I was sitting in my car, ready to go. The cake was already loaded, Dad stopped by and gave me a hand before he headed to survey a new construction, and I needed to hit the road now. Where the hell was Nero?
My phone buzzed with a text from Sherry. I opened it to a video of a woman’s attempt at a unicorn cake only to hilariously fail. I laughed, sent a quick reply, then glanced in my rearview just as Nero’s Porsche came to a stop at the edge of my driveway. Ten o’clock on the dot. He hopped out of his car, long legs covered in a pair of jeans and paired with a navy-blue thermal that hugged all the right spots. Damn him and his too perfect genes.
I flattened my hair with my palms, hoping to control some of the flyaways. I would have showered, but I had to remake my damn cakes last night after I couldn’t remember if I put sugar in or not. After baking and hoping for the best, I took a tiny sample that only confirmed my biggest nightmare. I forgot… sugar. And it was all Nero Grasso’s fault.
My mind was too focused on this drive with him. I was desperate, so I didn’t argue, but as soon as I walked out of the tasting room, I realized how bad of an idea it actually was. Normally, I could ignore my crush and be friends with him or continue conceding that he was my best friend's older, very handsome, untouchable brother. But no. He had to kiss me! Damn him.
He held two coffees in his hand as he strode up my driveway like he didn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, I had so many tabs opened in my head, my brain felt like it was one thought away from malfunctioning.
I turned toward him, tapped my Fitbit, then waved for him to hurry.
He slid into the passenger seat with ease. His six-foot frame crammed into the barely-there leg room thanks to Sherry, who was last sat there.
“Here.” He thrust an Espresso Yourself to-go coffee cup at me. With his head practically in my ceiling, he used the controls on the side to adjust to a more reasonable position.
“You’re late,” I said.
“Good morning, Nero. Thanks for the coffee. How are you on this lovely day?”
I pursed my lips together and glared at the smartass.
“Sorry,” he said on a sigh. “Franc and Gio stopped by the tasting room and threw me off my shit. Then I forgot I told you I’d bring coffee, so I placed an order on the app, but Michael still hasn’t fully figured out the system yet, and Kenneth was doing damage control for all the people who were waiting for their coffees that were never made.
“I bet that was a fiery conversation.”
“Kenneth kept telling Michael he needed to stick to coffee and let him handle everything else.”
A giggle slipped from my lips. I loved those two. “I’m sure by the end of the day they’ll kiss and make up.”
“They always do, but not before Kenneth slips in a few zingers.”
“Oh, to be a fly on the wall.”
Nero glanced over his shoulder. “I thought we were running late. You’re giving me crap, and we’re still sitting here.”
“Well, someone doesn’t have their seatbelt on yet.”
With a shake of his head, he grabbed the belt and clicked it into place. “Happy now?”
“Very.” I put my car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Once on the road, I lifted my coffee to my lips and took a tentative sip to make sure it wasn’t too hot. The dark roast hit my tongue, and I sighed at the joy it brought me. I moaned as I took a full sip and prayed it would be enough of a caffeine boost to get me through the day.
I placed the cup in the holder and caught Nero’s gaze on me.
“What?” I asked, swiping at my mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”
He cleared his throat. “No, sorry. I… no.”
I wasn’t used to him not being direct. Even yesterday in the tasting room, he seemed off, especially when I made the comment about the kiss. He was usually so quick-witted, but yesterday he lacked the speed. He turned his head toward the window, his body moving with him as if he was trying to get as far away from me as possible.
I brushed my teeth. I could still taste the mint, so it couldn’t be my breath. “You’re acting weird. What gives?”
“I’m not acting weird.”
“Bullshit. I’ve known you most of my life. I know when you’re acting weird.”
