The Crush (Oregon Wine Country #1)(39)

And then he left Junie standing there, as confused as ever, looking at his retreating back.

When she was almost back to the beginning of the trail, she heard Keval’s voice. “Juniper! Hold up!”

She turned and waited for him to catch up. Together, they walked out of the pines to the designated picnic area.

A black truck was headed their way.

Keval clutched the stitch in his side. “Well, look who it is. Clarkston’s newest lady-killer.”

“You don’t like Manolo.”

“If by ‘don’t like him,’ you mean I don’t trust him, then no, I don’t.”

Clearly, Keval hadn’t forgiven Manolo for taking food to Holly.

“I appreciate your loyalty. But are you forgetting all the work he’s done for me for nothing?”

He stopped and cocked an eyebrow. “Really, Juniper? Really? Haven’t you heard? There’s no such thing as a free tasting room.”

A dark cloud crossed the sun. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“No problemo, amiga. That’s what friends are for.”

But neither her confusion nor Keval’s lack of trust could stop the pounding of her heart as she watched his truck bounce over the grass toward the picnic grounds.

“I see you made it,” said Junie coolly.

“Flight got delayed. Knew I wouldn’t make the hike, but I didn’t want to miss the party.” He yanked back the tarp covering his truck bed and pulled out his camo duffel. “You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

“Nope.” She nodded toward the trail. “The others aren’t even back yet.”

“Hey, Keval.” Manolo reached out his hand in greeting.

“What’s new and exciting on the East Coast?” Keval asked, as if he hadn’t just dissed him behind his back.

“Not a damn thing, unless you’re into wall-to-wall traffic and bumper-to-bumper people.” He tipped back his head, looked up at the sky and sucked in a breath. “Aaahhh. This is more like it. I kept wishing Lewis and Clark could have seen that view from the plane. The Columbia Plateau, then the Cascades. Mount Hood, still covered in snow in June. . . .”

He scoped the picnic area. “Good. I took a chance there’d be grills and brought burgers.”

“Everyone should be getting here soon. We all brought something to share.”

“Bring some of your pinot?”

“Better than risking poisoning you all with my cooking. Sam said he brought some bottles too, so we can do a little taste comparison if you want. Or if you’d rather have a beer, Heath brought some of his.”

“Either one sounds great.”

Not long after Manolo started unpacking his bag full of goodies, Rory and Heath appeared, still arguing the merits of cider versus beer, followed by Poppy and a few others.

Sam walked up from his van, carrying a cardboard box full of wine.

Manolo reached into his bag and pulled a large wooden paddle.

“Have peel, will travel,” he said, giving it a twirl.

“You’re going to make pizza—on that grill?”

“Gonna give it my best shot.”

While the others scattered to their cars for their coolers, Manolo pulled out his spices and other ingredients.

He turned to Rory. “Any good, aromatic wood around these parts? Oak? Maple? I’d like to find some twigs to throw on top of this charcoal for extra flavor.”

After they’d shared their food and wine, Poppy followed Junie to her car to get their hoodies while someone lit a campfire. “Manolo is really nice, and such a Renaissance man!” said Poppy. “Is there anything he can’t do?”

“He definitely has his talents.”

Sam left, while the rest sat around the campfire sipping coffee.

“I really like tasting wine with food,” said Heath.

“Helping diners pick a wine to pair with their meal is a big part of what a somm does,” added Poppy.

“Food and ale pairings are getting popular, too. As a matter of fact, I’m planning to do that for the crush. I’ve started experimenting already. Hoppy beers go well with game birds, like duck. And I can do roasted root veggies with a darker stout. I’m hoping it’ll bring in a different sort of customer.”

Firelight sparkled in Manolo’s eyes as he shot Junie a look.

She could practically see his grandiose thoughts racing ahead, like always. She shook her head in advance of what he was about to propose.

“Imagine this,” he said, raising his arms to the night sky like some charismatic preacher at an old-fashioned revival. “Stone benches around the perimeter of the patio at bench height for you to sit on. Lanterns hang overhead from a knotty pine pergola, hung thick with one of those climbing vines. What’s that called? The purple one?”

“Wisteria!” exclaimed Poppy.

Manolo snapped his fingers. “Wisteria. The vines allow some light in, but block the harshest rays. At night, you can look up and see the stars. The entrance is at one end, with a big square fireplace opposite for heat and atmosphere, flanked by twin pizza ovens.”

The faces around the campfire were rapt.

“Embedded into the longer sides are a few regular grills or warming ovens, sinks, and coolers. Then, in the center, four, maybe six round tables on matching stone bases shaded with market umbrellas in colors to match the current season. But the real highlight is the killer view all the way out to the Coast Range.”