Of course this would be one of them. And so the gig was up, sooner than I’d like. Poor Alanna was going to faint any second at the thought of us being snagged.
“My name is Rachel Watson. Daughter of Howard Watson.”
It didn’t take long. The smiling, affable guy who had approached us was gone. His eyes darkened, but I refused to flinch at his outwardly hostile expression.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, the tic in his jaw less sexy than it might have been if it weren’t menacing.
Join the club. My father was no peach, but that didn’t mean I was going to take any shit from Mr. Grado either.
“I’m not sure how you want me to respond to that?”
“What are you doing here?” This tone was anything but affable now.
“Enjoying a cider beer with my friend before she goes back home tomorrow.”
“Too bad you don’t like beer.”
Touché. “Alanna does.”
At that, Alanna nodded. I’d have been surprised if she’d said one word from here on out. Which was totally fine. I had this.
“There’s a winery next door where you might enjoy spending a Saturday afternoon,” he said. “It’s just down the street. Called Sunset Vineyards. Fair warning, though, the owners are total assholes.”
Agreed, but I wasn’t going to let that one pass. Only I could call my father an asshole. This guy couldn’t.
“Nice. Real classy.”
“I never claimed to be classy. Your father and his partner haven’t taken a meeting with us, or any other vineyard, once since they bought Sunset. If you don’t believe me, go spy on any of the others in the area and ask about them.”
I ignored that since it sounded perfectly likely to be true. “I’m not spying.” Which was, of course, a complete lie.
It wasn’t like I said to Alanna, ‘Let's go spy on the competition.’ It was more like, ‘Let’s go check out our neighbors before they know me.’
“No? Then why not introduce yourself when you came in?”
Good question. “Do you want us to leave?”
Clearly he did. But there was enough gentleman in Marco Grado not to admit it. Alanna did it for him.
“Maybe we should go,” she started when he cut her off.
“By all means, stay and enjoy your beers.” A bit of the edge he’d shown when I sprung my name on him was gone. “And please tell your father all about the brewery. He won’t see it anytime soon. Unlike most of the lake’s owners, he and his partner make themselves scarce. As I’m sure you know.”
I knew all too well. Neither my father nor Jerry had any business owning a vineyard. Neither lived nor worked here. They hired out the proprietor and vineyard manager’s jobs, along with all of the others. For them, it was an investment, plain and simple.
With the air still crackling between us, I forced myself to concentrate on the conversation. He smelled so damn good.
“That’s about to change.”
“Oh God,” Alanna muttered. “You know what? If we’re staying, I’m gonna need another beer.” She slid off her barstool.
“Tell them it’s on the house,” Marco said to Alanna.
“Thanks,” she muttered, not asking if I wanted another, which, if I were being honest, I did. It was really a good beer. Light and crispy, a perfect blend of sweet and dry.
He’d moved to standing near the center of the table, away from me, so I couldn’t really smell him anymore. A shame.
I took a deep breath. He’d figure it out soon enough. “I’m taking over as the vineyard’s manager.” Aside from a tick in his jaw, he didn’t respond. Not able to tell how he felt about that particular bit of news, not that I cared, I continued. “My father never wanted a vineyard.”