Chapter 17
Sam’s meeting with the Wine Press ate up his entire Friday morning, but it had been worth it. He walked out of there more than satisfied with the group advertising rate he’d negotiated for his people.
He took his phone off silent to find a number of missed calls and messages. But before he checked any of them, he had to get hold of Dad’s doctor. He punched in the number as he jumped into his van. Following an interminable hold he finally got Dr. Mowbray’s medical assistant.
“Has he seen my message yet?”
“I’m sorry, but he’s not back yet.”
Sam felt his blood pressure ratcheting up.
“I’ve been waiting all week. Look, it’s important.”
“If he’s not back today, it should be tomorrow,” she blurted. “His flight’s been delayed by weather.”
Something Sam had heard earlier that morning came back to him. “A tropical storm?”
The assistant paused.
Sam sensed weakness in her hesitation.
“How’d you know that?”
“He’s in Hawaii?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Sam tossed his phone onto the seat of the van and cursed. While his very future hinged on knowing what was wrong, Dad’s doctor was lounging around some pool on Waikiki sucking down Mai Tais.
He could find a new doctor. But that wouldn’t get him the information he needed any faster.
His hands were tied—and there was nothing Sam hated more than not being in control.
He pulled into the back of the consortium where the dock was. What fresh hell was this? From the van, he could see there were problems. Big problems.
Keval was supposed to be in the front of the house manning his computer monitor and welcoming guests. Instead, he was standing on the dock, dwarfed by a circle of burly men.
He slammed the van door and marched over, their irritated expressions ratcheting up his concern.
“What’s going on?”
“Thank heavens you’re back.” Keval’s brow was etched with worry. “The good news is, the computer glitch’s fixed,” he said in a rush. “The bad news is, we got a backlog of orders coming out the wazzoodle—most of them from out of town—and not enough stock to fill them, let alone get them shipped out by the promised date. These guys filled what they could in the first hour. But since then, they’ve been standing around with nothing to do. One of them already left.”
“Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
“Check your phone. I must’ve called five times.”
Everyone was looking at Sam for answers.
“Pull up the unfilled orders,” he told Keval.
He turned to the extras. “How many vehicles do you have among you?”
“Three,” said a whippet-thin man with sage black eyes in a weathered face. “Couple of us rode together.”
“With my van that makes four. We’re going to have to go get more wine ourselves. I’ll print out a map and divide the area into sections. Some of you are going to have to make multiple trips, but it is what it is. I’ll keep you as close to the bulls-eye as I can. My van holds the most, so I’ll hit the outliers on the perimeter.”
“You’ll pay for our gas?” asked the leader suspiciously.
Sam nodded curtly as he headed for his computer. “I’ll take care of you. You have my word.”
Sam had started his day already looking forward to the night. Dinner with Red and then champagne and watching the sunset from their balcony at the B&B. After that, their first, whole night together. Even if she had assigned them to sexual purgatory, there was no one else he’d rather be with.
But duty before pleasure.
He kept his spirits up around his men. Then, alone on his first run, he added up the miles between wineries. Factoring in the necessary small talk with vintners and the loading and unloading, there was no way he could be showered, dressed, and ready for dinner at seven.
With a sinking feeling, he realized had no choice but to call Red and cancel.
Red took the news like a trooper. “I understand. You do what you have to do. And don’t worry about canceling dinner and the B&B, I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re a gem, you know that, Doc?”
“I know what it’s like to have your own business. We’ll have plenty of chances to go on dates.”
No, they wouldn’t. Not after Red found out about the house. She was bound to never want to see him again.
* * * *
The sun was setting when Sam returned from his final run. His van was heavily laden with cases of wine. Both he and it were covered in a reddish coat of dust from the Jory soil that lent Willamette pinot noir its characteristic earthy taste.
Hungry, hot, and sweaty, he prayed there were still men around to help him unload the van. His biceps were already screaming. But they had all put in way more hours this day than they’d bargained for.
Relief flooded him when he saw the scrappy crew on the dock waiting for him to arrive.
The men formed a human chain from the van to the loading dock. As Sam hefted yet another case down the line, he was surprised to see Red walk out of the building carrying a large tray. Behind her came Keval with a case of bottled water.
Sam straightened and saw the sandwich rolls. She’d brought chow. By the looks of it, enough chow to feed a small army.
The men’s eyes followed where Sam looked. One by one, strained faces melted.
Red threw back her head and laughed at something Keval said. Sam caught her eye and her laugh softened into a warm smile, making him want to drop his case of wine and go over there and lift her off her feet in a bear hug.