The Crush (Oregon Wine Country #1)(63)

Junie looked at Manolo, dumbstruck, while Tom glared.

Then her mom spoke again. “Junie, I have a surprise for you.”

She pivoted gracefully on one foot, and from behind her appeared a slender, long-haired man.

“Storm!” Junie threw her arms around her brother.

He hugged her back stiffly, his hands cool and clammy on her exposed skin.

“How’d you—”

“I told him,” said Mom, beaming. “It was Tom’s idea.”

“Where’s your girlfriend? I mean your partner? Mom said you were living together.”

“This is a business trip. I didn’t see why she should come.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Junie saw her momentary hurt reflected in Manolo’s eyes.

He reached for Storm’s hand. “I’m Manolo Santos.”

They shook, and Storm blanched, cradling his crushed right hand with his left when they were finished.

Then a familiar piano melody filled the air.

Mom extended a graceful hand, index and little fingers elongated, thumb tucked under, ballerina-style.

“What’s this?” Junie wondered aloud.

Mom’s eyes glistened. “Your father would be so proud of you. I know he would have danced with you today. But since he can’t, would you dance with me instead?”

Junie glided into her mother’s arms. The crowd parted as mother and daughter twirled around and around, surrounded by a panorama of friendly faces.

When the song ended, there was a smattering of applause and more than one person dabbing her eyes.

Sam approached Junie with a stranger in tow. “There’s someone who’d like to meet you. This is Dan. He works for Northwest Distributing.”

Dan handed Junie his card. “My company is interested in making you a proposal.”

Junie lit up. “Are you serious?”

“I certainly am.” He smiled. “Can I call you next week?”

A woman holding a fancy camera tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Juniper Hart?”

“Yes?”

“I’m with Wine Spectator. May I have a picture for the magazine?”

“Of course, sure!” She posed for the shot.

“After all this fuss dies down, would you consider sitting down with me one-on-one for an interview?”

Keval stepped between them. “I’m Ms. Hart’s publicist. All interview requests go through me.”

Junie and Manolo looked at each other and laughed.

Then Jed Smith approached her. “Juniper, your dad would be thrilled. Your wine is excellent. Serving complimentary pizzas is genius. There’s only one thing missing.”

“What’s that?”

“Humble pie for me, for not giving you that increase on your credit line.”

“I know I was a long shot.”

“I’d like to personally invite you to come back to the bank and meet with me.”

“Well, I—”

Movement over Jed’s shoulder caught Junie’s eye. It was Storm and Tom being edged out of her growing circle of well-wishers. On their faces were matching counterfeit smiles.

A local reporter holding a tablet angled for Junie’s attention.

“Let’s see what happens,” Junie called to Jed over the commotion. The press of people and gushing were taking a toll on her. She brushed away a lock of hair that had escaped from her topknot.

Manolo took Junie’s arm possessively. “That’s enough for now, folks,” he said, leading her through the throng to the quiet of her office.

“Thanks,” she breathed when they were alone behind the closed door.

Manolo picked her off her feet and twirled her around. “You did it!”

“We did it,” she replied.

“You okay?” he asked, still holding her close.

She smiled shakily. “Yeah! This is all a little overwhelming, but in a good way.”

He let her feet down but kept his arms loosely around her waist. “You have a lot of supporters out there.”

“I know. I’m so lucky.”

“You deserve it. Every bit of it.” He pulled back to look down at her. With one fingertip, he traced the demarcation line along her shoulder where her sun-browned arms met her milk-white shoulders. “You got a farmer’s tan,” he murmured.

She shuddered at his light touch.

He continued the line along the top edge of her strapless sundress.

“I remember this dress.”

She’d only ever worn it one time, with Daryl.

As he languidly traced the outline of her clavicle, up her neck to her earlobe, her eyelids fluttered and her head fell to the side.

“When you walked into that pool party, I—I won’t tell you what I wanted to do to that poser.”

They both knew who he was talking about. Junie opened her eyes and straightened her shoulders.

“Where is he? You’d think he’d be here for you, today of all days.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Daryl doesn’t care about anyone but Daryl.”

“Guess Daryl and I aren’t so alike after all.”

Wait. Did Manolo just admit he cared for her?

She plumbed his eyes for answers, but their black depths were unfathomable. That trademark chandelier smile was nowhere to be seen. The hard line of his jaw twitched. He looked like a man grappling with a life-or-death decision.