The Crush (Oregon Wine Country #1)(37)

Manolo reached over and cupped a bunch of hard, green berries. “You sure these are grapes? They look like peas to me.”

She laughed. “The fruit’s just starting to set. Just wait a couple of months and you’ll see.”

“Before I go any further with the new tasting room wall, I need to know if you want some kind of display shelving.”

She shook her head. “I told you. Just the bare bones.”

“Display shelves are pretty basic. And built-in looks classier than free standing. If it’s the former it can wait, but if you want built-in, now’s the time to speak up.”

She sighed. “Write up an estimate and I’ll look at it.”

Estimate? Manolo didn’t have patience for estimates. He’d just go ahead and order the lumber. It wouldn’t take him much over the round figure he had in mind for the bottom line. To save time arguing, he simply nodded.

“Sounds like things are on track at Sam’s place.”

“The walls should be up by this time next week. Everything’s right on schedule.”

Junie’s eyes probed his. “You mean, for the crush.”

He felt transparent under her gaze. Tread carefully, Santos. He always kept his exit strategy close to the vest. If a woman knew your plans, it weakened your hand.

“Yeah. The crush.”

“That’s why you wouldn’t sign a lease over six months.”

He never should have blurted out the details of that lease on the very day he’d met Junie. But how could he have imagined that little more than a month later, he’d be remodeling her tasting room and making her dinner a couple times a week? Not that that meant anything.

“Where are you going after that? Do you have a new contracting job lined up? A volunteer mission?”

“Nothing yet. But I’ve always got my ear to the ground.” The Belize job was still up in the air. Sam was the only one outside of the EWC who knew about that prospect. “The only thing that’s carved in stone is that I’ve got to be at Sam’s first thing in the morning to supervise the framing crew. In the afternoon, I’m headed back to the Reserves.”

Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe it’s that time again already!”

“Time flies when you’re working your ass off.”

“Other than a few extra tourists, I barely noticed it was Memorial Day last weekend.”

“The consortium was hopping. Sam must’ve taken out a dozen vanloads of them on tours.”

“When you’re in the service industry, you work holidays. It’s the same with me and most of my friends. Poppy, Rory, Heath.... By the way, did Sam tell you about the hike Monday?”

“He did say something. You going?” Say yes.

“It’s my day off, thank goodness. I’d hate to miss it. Usually we all bring something to eat. But you’re excused, since you’ll just be getting off a plane.”

“Me, pass up a chance to cook for a crowd? Not likely.” He cocked his head. “If I’m not mistaken, this’ll be the first break you’ve taken since I’ve known you.”

“I never miss our post–Memorial Day hike! That, and the Clarkston Splash in July. A bunch of us get together and rent out the community pool at night. Poppy and I used to lifeguard there when we were kids. You’re welcome to come.”

Junie in a swimsuit? “I’ll try to make it.” Wild horses couldn’t drag him away.

“All I can think about is keeping things moving along here and at the consortium. Do me a favor?”

“After all you’re doing for me? How can I say no?” Eyes full of gratitude shone up at him. Her lips puckered into a fat, juicy strawberry as they fought a smile. She should have looked ridiculous with her face peeking out of that white hood like a nun’s wimple. But instead she looked for all the world like a wood nymph from the nearby forest.

Manolo swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Stay out of the tasting room until I get back. It’s not safe with the floor ripped up.” There was no reason she had to go in there until he was finished. He’d already transferred all her stuff over to her mother’s old bedroom so she could use it as an office temporarily during the renovation.

She shrugged. “It’s already off-limits to customers during the rehab—assuming I have any.”

In the weeks he’d been hanging around Brendan Hart Vineyards, the only visitors he’d seen had been bussed in by Sam.

A pang of empathy hit him. “Don’t worry, Buttercup.” He crooked a knuckle under her chin. “Just wait till I get finished with this place. . . .”

That one square inch of skin fused them together like a magnet. His feet stepped closer of their own accord until the toes of his boots bumped hers.

Her lips relaxed and parted. He scrutinized every inch of her face, seeking fault . . . justification to quell his growing desire. It was true. Junie wasn’t a conventional beauty. Her features were a tad too strong, and freckles from working outside sprinkled her nose. But with no makeup diverting attention from them, her irises shone like sapphires. Even under the glaring summer sun, her naked skin was poreless, her cheeks downy as peach fuzz. She was like an organic fruit, imperfect on the surface but better for you in the ways that counted.

His body stiffened with lust. But this was no run-of-the-mill attraction. An undercurrent of danger ran through it. His heart pounded like it did the moment his CO announced, “Operation mobile” unexpectedly and he knew all of his skills were about to be tested to the limit. At moments like that—when a man was never closer to death—he never felt more alive.