As expected, Min didn’t take kindly to my pronouncement. “First of all, I’m totally covered.”
“Farming out your jobs, maybe. But you know it won’t be the same.”
“The fact that we had to split my jobs between three people should tell you something.”
I groaned as Neo looked up to the vaulted ceiling and said, “Here we go.”
“No, we don’t. I don’t have time for this, Dominica. Yes, you’re covered. But we’re down two tasting room associates, and now a marketing director, in the busiest time of the year.”
“For you,” Neo said.
Truth was, we all pitched in wherever it was needed. Running the wine cellar and the overall operations at Grado Valley, the summer was busy for me. But during harvest season, Neo worked like a demon. We all did, really. Not one of us minded hard work. And as Min and our parents would remind me, her travel to Italy wasn’t “time off.” She was going to Italy for a purpose. She was planning to bring back knowledge and ideas on ways to improve our own operations as an “Old World throwback” vineyard. But that wouldn’t help me get through the summer.
I let out a breath. It was done. I was sorry to see Jena go, and Grado Valley would miss her terribly. But if she was happy, I was happy. Mostly. Actually, I wasn’t happy at all in this very moment.
“No way,” I said aloud as my interview arrived a few minutes early.
Thayle had only told me she’d set up an interviewee for this morning. I had no other info except that it was a woman who’d left a message yesterday about a tasting room associate job. A position we desperately needed to fill.
But not that desperately.
I stood straight up and watched as my interviewee walked into the building. No fucking way.
“Holy shit,” Neo whispered. “She’s smokin’ hot.”
Ignoring him, I began to think of ways to cut this interview short. I didn’t need to talk to her to know this would not work out. On top of the fact that she was so drunk Saturday the woman was making snow angels—in the grass—she didn’t know shit about wine. And admitted the fact two days ago.
So why in the hell was she here, in the Cellar, looking for a job as a tasting room attendant?
“I have to run,” Min said, smiling at Brooke on her way out.
That I remembered her name, despite the fact that I liked precisely zero things about her, was yet another reason to get her out the door now.
“I think,” Neo drawled, “the vines can wait. It’s been too long since I’ve interviewed. Don’t want to get rusty.”
“Getting rusty” around here meant not working in positions outside one’s usual day-to-day grind. Our parents firmly believed regularly stepping into jobs that weren’t typically our own was vital to running a successful vineyard. Neo may have been our winemaker, but he also worked the tasting rooms, helped with wine club pickups, and pitched in wherever he was needed. Without complaint. That was just the way of it.
“Rusty, my ass,” I mumbled as she approached.
Neo was right about one thing. Brooke was smokin’ hot.
“Don’t get comfortable,” I whispered to him. “This isn’t going to take long.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
brooke
Two thoughts ran simultaneouslythrough my mind when I walked through the double doors of the 1942 Wine Cellar.
First, how was it possible two guys in the same room were that good-looking? The last time I’d seen two dark-haired men that gorgeous standing together was on my trip to Rome. Amy and I had taken a cheap flight last minute a few summers ago, and to this day I wondered what they put in the water over there, especially the water drunk by their policemen—because every single one of them was drop-dead gorgeous. As if it were a job requirement.
Second, our tasting room attendant was here and looked about as thrilled to see me as I was to see him. Was he a manager or something? Or was the other guy doing the interview? Which I still couldn’t believe was happening. This was as crazy as anything I’d ever done. Maybe the craziest.
The entire house had ganged up on me yesterday, and by the time we’d finished a late morning walk along the lake, it was decided. My spontaneity had been taken to an entirely new level. We contacted the owner of the rental, and he was able to extend my stay until Friday. Leeta and Tina were even staying with me for another day too, though the others had to head home today. After I called Grado Valley Vineyards and left that message on their machine, we agreed that if I got a call back for an interview by Friday, it was a sign. This crazy plan was meant to happen. If not, I’d stay the week, then head back to the city to job hunt.
As I approached, the jerk frowned. The slightly younger one with him didn’t bother to hide his appreciation of me. He stopped short of looking me up and down, so I returned the courtesy and tried not to outright ogle him. But holy hell, they must have been serving that same Roman water here in Grado Valley.
“I’m sorry to have wasted your time coming in this morning,” Clark Kent said. “But I’m not sure this position is for you.”