Strangely, he seemed less than pleased by that.
“What else do we have in common?” I asked, changing the subject. “You never answered me.”
He lifted his glass. “Meritage. You told Perry it was your favorite. This is mine too. Neo hit it out of the park with this blend.”
“How do you know I told Perry it was my favorite?”
“Because I asked.”
Asked? What did he ask? Why did he ask? Cryptic as usual. “Why is there suddenly an available cottage?”
“Pleading the Fifth on that one.”
I wasn’t going to let him get off that easily, but as we cleared the trees surrounding each of the cottages, I gasped. It was the same view as from the back of the Cellar. From the courtyard, or even the open lawn we’d toured earlier, it had looked like the cottages were more inland. But three of them, which looked rather like log cabins, sat right on top of the lake. Separated by trees and enough shrubbery to make each cottage semiprivate, each one a lakeside oasis of its own, all were the same size roughly, but styled a bit differently.
“I’m on the end. Neo and Marco share the one in the middle. The one on the far left is being renovated. We were hoping to have it finished by summer.” He turned and looked up the hill to our left. There was a naturally worn path, which Cosimo headed up now.
“This one is also just finishing renovations,” he said as we stood in front of a smaller but absolutely beautiful wooden cottage. “If you can stand a few workmen lingering for the next week or two, it’s yours.”
I made my way up the steps onto the porch and turned back around. “I can see a bit of the lake from here.”
“Not much of it. But some,” he agreed, joining me.
That damned traitorous heart of mine started thumping again.
Cosimo held out his hand. “The keys.”
I barely noticed as he dropped them into my hand. I was too busy looking at his eyes. From this close, even behind the glasses, their dark brown depths drew me in. Quickly looking down, I closed my hand around the keys.
Again, he was on the move. Not bothering to tell me where he was going.
“Wait,” I said, catching up. “How much is it? I’m working on a tasting room associate salary.”
He walked back toward his own cottage, which was not all that far from my own. Fantastic. More of Cosimo Grado was just what I needed.
“Take on full-time hours, and it’s yours for the summer.”
Was he serious?
“That’s incredibly kind”—the word nearly stuck in my throat. “But I was sort of hoping this summer would be the calm before my storm, so to speak.”
He climbed up the stairs of his wraparound porch, substantially bigger than mine. Not that I was complaining. “Part-time, with weekends, and pick up shifts when we need you.”
He gestured for me to sit on one of the two Adirondack chairs off to the side, and I couldn’t help but wonder why he was being so nice all of a sudden.
“That’s really generous,” I said, sitting. “Too generous. What’s the catch?”
He sat on the chair next to me. “Does there have to be a catch?”
“There usually is.”
“You’ve spent too much time in the city.”
He had no idea.
“You are a businessman. That cottage probably goes for...” I tried to imagine what a place like that, practically on the lake, would rent for.
“Three thousand a week.”