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She draws in a deep breath, and then she says, “Marry me.”
Tequila sprays out of my mouth and all over the bar at her words. “What?”
She picks up a napkin to wipe her cheek. I guess I sprayed more than just the bar.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. But…what?”
She offers a small, awkward laugh. “Marry me. Stay married to me for a year, and then I get the vineyard. She’s out. You get revenge, she gets karma, we all win.”
“We all win?” I repeat. How, exactly, is this proposal of hers winning for me? I mop up the mess on the bar I just made with some tiny napkins. “I suppose next you’re going to tell me you want to have a kid with me for the Temecula land, too.”
She blows out a breath and stares at her drink. “No. I would never do that. These rules Nana made up were meant to be kept secret. It all was supposed to happen naturally.”
“How did Amelia find out?” I ask.
She shrugs. “No idea. But she found out, and then I found out, and now I’m going to take what’s rightfully mine. You know…if you’re up for my revenge plan.”
“This is ridiculous, Gracie. I can’t marry you.”
The bartender walks over with some plates filled with food, glancing up at me as he catches my words. “Drunken shrimp and nachos,” he says as he sets the plates in front of us.
He stays out of it, thankfully, but we probably shouldn’t be having this conversation publicly.
“It’s fine,” she says quietly. “I knew it was a longshot. I just…don’t want her to get the vineyard. She doesn’t even like wine. It’s a money machine for her, and that’s all, but it’s been my dream to run it since I was a kid. I just need a year. If you want a part in running the vineyard, you’re welcome to it. If you don’t, you can walk away from it and never hear from me again.”
The thought leaves me feeling hollow and alone.
I don’t want to never hear from her again. I reach for a shrimp and bite into it, chewing thoughtfully.
Could I really do that? Could I really marry Grace to help her get her vineyard?
Grace grabs a shrimp, too, and we both chew quietly. She takes another one, and I do, too.
And then my mouth starts to feel a little funny…tingly, like it’s almost itchy. “Oh shit,” I mutter at the same time Grace starts scratching her arm.
“Does this sauce have mustard in it?” she asks, glancing at what’s already becoming a rash on her arm.
“Wait, are you allergic to mustard?” I ask as panic starts to rise.
She nods.
“Holy shit. So am I.” What a weird coincidence. “My mouth is getting itchy and tingly.”
“Shit,” she mutters. She starts to dig through her purse, pausing to scratch her arm. “I keep Benadryl in here just in case. Want one?”
“Two, please.”
She locates the pills and hands me two, and I swallow them down with tequila as she takes two, too.
I call the bartender over. “More drinks. And take the shrimp.”
He eyes us both for a beat. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “We’re both allergic to mustard.”
“Oh, the barbecue sauce has a mustard base. Can I get you anything?”
“We both took Benadryl,” Grace says.
