The Crush (Oregon Wine Country #1)(7)

“Maybe it does and maybe it doesn’t. And, Lieutenant?”

At the look on Sam’s face, Manolo’s smile faded.

“That’s an order.”





Chapter Three


Junie tucked Manolo’s bills into her metal cash box, pleased at the way they filled up the empty slots. Manolo Santos had presence. And Junie wasn’t the only one who’d been affected. He’d had her guy friends eating out of his hand on his first day in town.

She tossed her head, hoping to shake him out, but all that did was register that he had really asked her out to dinner! And, genius that she was, she’d turned him down, pleading too many chores. Weeding and mowing? At night?

But getting involved with an admitted drifter was the last thing she needed.

She had just dived under the desk to retrieve her late notices when she heard the tasting room door open again. One of the guys must have left something behind.

“Junie?”

“Mom?” What is she doing home already? “I’m in here.”

From the floor where she knelt, Junie saw a pair of Velcro-strapped Mary Janes coming toward her. Next, Mom’s pink face came into view, the blood having rushed to her head when she bent over. “What are you doing under there?”

“I dropped something.” She backed out on her hands and knees and slid the late notices to the bottom of the paper pile.

When Dad died, his life insurance had erased what was left of the mortgage, but his capital investment in the winery had left her with substantial debt. Storm had already moved to Colorado. Mom wanted to immediately put the house and vineyard on the market and pretend Dad’s dream—Mom’s nightmare—had never existed. But Junie, with the blind enthusiasm of a new college grad and no clue of the long, hard road ahead, had been adamant that she could make it on her own. If Mom found out she was now having money problems— “A better question is what are you doing here?” Even when Mom was at home, she rarely ventured out to the big outbuilding containing the tasting room, press, and cellar.

“It’s Friday, remember? I don’t schedule appointments Friday afternoons.”

“It doesn’t usually work out that way, though, does it?” Even when Mom did manage to quit working at a decent hour, she usually stayed in the city with colleagues to take advantage of its superior restaurants.

“I made it a point to get home early today. I am tapped out.” She looked around for a place to sit, but the only chair was the one behind the desk.

Junie studied her mother’s face. If she had something important to talk about, why now, when they had all weekend?

Mom smiled cryptically. “How about you? When was the last time you ate anything? Something good for you.”

Junie stuffed the late notices into a drawer. She tried to recall her last meal, but came up empty.

“That’s what I thought. Want to go out and grab a quick bite before you have to get ready for work? There’s nothing in the fridge. As usual.”

Junie stiffened. Mom was always on her to eat better. Most nights, Junie mechanically wolfed down whatever was on special after her shift at Casey’s Roadhouse. She knew she should make more of an effort. But food was way down on her list of priorities. Nothing ever seemed to really satisfy her hunger, anyway. Maybe working at mediocre restaurants for the past nine years had dulled her appetite.

“How about Poppy’s?”

Poppy’s, whose menu was stuffed full of the kind of sugary, highly glutenous confections that tempted even Junie’s palate? Something was definitely up. Normally, Mom would have suggested a salad from Demeter or at least the Radish Rose, whose menu had lots of choices.

“Sure.” As long as Mom was paying.





Chapter Four


“Poppy!”

Poppy Springer’s looks were as startling today as they had been back when she and Junie were lifeguards at the Clarkston Community Pool. Junie jumped up from her booth to give Poppy a hug.

“What are you doing home?”

“Busman’s holiday. Mom and Pop took the motor home up to Whistler for a few weeks. Lately my job situation is complicated, so I’m helping to hold down the fort. I left you a message.”

“I know. . . .” Junie slid back onto her vinyl seat. “Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you. It’s just that I’ve been so busy with work. . . .”

Poppy set down their water glasses, eyes lowered.

“Join the club. She doesn’t return her own mother’s calls,” Mom said.

Junie knew her excuses were getting old, but what could she do?

“How are you, Dr. Hart?”

“I’m fine, thank you very much. Nice to see you again so soon, Poppy.”

Poppy turned to Junie with a patient smile. “Your mom and I ran into each other at the place in the city where I’m hostessing part time.”

“Really?” Junie frowned. Mom hadn’t mentioned that. “I’m not blowing you off, Poppy. I promise.”

“Stop!” That was Poppy for you, swallowing her own disappointment so that Junie wouldn’t feel bad. “I know you have your hands full out there. Now, what can I get you two? The sticky buns are hot out of the oven.” She beamed at Junie. “Guaranteed to spike your blood sugar.”