The Crush (Oregon Wine Country #1)(45)

While he kept one eye on the degree of pinkness in his burgers, he kept the other on Junie. Before long, her crew shrank back from peppering her with questions, and she pulled her wine bottles from her bag and placed them on the picnic table.

Her hair, which used to be plain brown, shone with golden highlights in the sunset. And what was with that skirt? He didn’t recall ever seeing her in anything but jeans. No better proof that her mama was a dancer.

Meanwhile, on the far side of the pool, Daryl had joined in a rowdy game of beanbag toss.

Something smelled like it was burning. Manolo tended to the grill. When he looked up again, Junie was surrounded by a clutch of brand-new admirers. He recognized them from the job. Daniel owned the roofing company. Carlos was an estimator. Sharp as a tack. He couldn’t recall the electrician’s name.

Sam walked up and thrust a fresh beer at Manolo. “How’s it going over here? Can I give you a hand with anything?”

“You can get over there and do what it is you do,” Manolo growled between his teeth. “Guard the henhouse.”

Sam rocked back and forth on his heels as if they were discussing nothing more volatile than the weather. “Why should I?”

“You didn’t waste a minute telling me to back off when you thought there was a ghost of a chance I’d be moving in on Clarkston’s icon of womanhood,” he growled.

“Big difference between you and them,” Sam said, calmly swigging his beer.

Manolo brandished his spatula in the air and copped a challenging pose. “What’s that?”

“Not one of those homegrown boys is going to love her and leave her.”

Manolo tried to digest Sam’s blunt words as he plated the burgers. They were hard to swallow, but Sam was right. Junie would be better off paired with someone who wouldn’t destroy what was left of her tattered heart.





Chapter Twenty-six


The following week, Junie and Keval were at Sam’s place for a class in promotion for small wineries. Junie was restless. She kept fidgeting, thinking about all the unfinished work waiting for her back home.

“Can’t you be still?” Keval hissed, giving her bouncing foot the evil eye.

She drew her foot up and sat on it to anchor it.

A minute later, she looked longingly out at blue sky and white clouds. Clear days were scarce this summer. She pointed her nose in the direction of a faint breeze.

“You look like a Labrador with her head out the car window.”

She switched her feet out from beneath her. “Right now I should be positioning shoots and spraying for mildew, or be down in my barrel room, racking last year’s wine. Instead I’m sitting on my butt in this stuffy house.”

She’d gotten a glimpse of Manolo in his hard hat on her way to class. How could she concentrate, knowing he was working mere feet away?

The instructor’s monotone droned on.

Junie replayed the pool party yet again in her mind. After arriving an hour late to pick her up and then choreographing their entrance, Daryl had pretty much ignored her for the rest of the evening. That night had shown her what Daryl really was: a lightweight, plain and simple. She’d lost so many nights of sleep over the years, pining for him! But now she felt nothing. Daryl was out of her system, once and for all.

She’d lined up with the others for one of Manolo’s burgers, getting more and more nervous as the line dwindled, knowing that any minute she’d be standing right there next to His Bare-chested Highness. He had been clad only in board shorts and a souvenir apron emblazoned with KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD. Not staring at his body as she inched closer and closer had been nearly impossible. Other than Daryl, he’d been the only man within miles not sporting facial hair. His upper body had been as smooth as his chin. Inked across one bicep was a compass rose. If more proof of his footloose philosophy was needed, the globe on his other arm left no doubt. Junie had to clench her fist to stop her finger from reaching out to trace the latitude and longitude lines encircling it. Once she started, she wouldn’t stop there.

But when she was standing before him, paper plate in hand, he’d treated her the same as everybody else, with his usual irreverence. He hadn’t even seemed to notice that she had arrived on Daryl’s arm. There’d been no hint of the jealousy he’d displayed the first time they’d run into Daryl at the market.

After everyone was fed, Manolo had played lawn darts and swam and acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, while Junie wished she’d worn her swimsuit and cut-offs instead of a stodgy dress.

Now, in Sam’s house, the cross-breeze gained strength. “I smell rain,” she whispered.

“Pay attention,” Keval scolded without moving his lips. “It’ll help you understand what I do online for you better.”

She tried. Sam had said staying abreast of trends would give her points with distributors.

She skimmed over the bullet points in the handout and leaned against Keval. “Who can afford a flashy new website or buy tons of doodads stamped with their name to give away?”

“You want my opinion?” Keval asked.

“Is there a question back there?” the teacher snapped, craning her head to glare at Junie and Keval.

“No question,” Keval answered meekly.

When the teacher looked away Keval tapped his pen on the words, Food Service. Next to it he wrote, Munchies = ka-ching.