“Go easy with those bottles, Milsom. They are made of glass, you know.” Farrah stood in front of my car, another case of wine in her arms. I’d just slung a case of her latest vintage release into the trunk of the car with a rattle that made Farrah wince. “I’d like to tell you that I spent hours treading the grapes myself, but of course that would be a huge lie. Even so, that’s quality stuff in those bottles, and I’m not having many hours of happy inebriation being put at risk just because you’ve got man trouble.”

“I do not have man trouble, Faz.” I rounded on her, looking for something to wave admonishingly, but not finding anything more satisfying than a finger.

“Oh, yeah, you do. There is a man. You’ve got trouble with him.” She drew an equality sign in the air with her fingers. “Ergo, man trouble. Quod erat demonstrandum, as the Greeks used to say.”

“That’s Latin, not Greek. Also, shut up and hand me that case of wine.” Packing the cases away in the trunk, I wrapped them in a couple of thick blankets. The long driveway leading down from Farrah’s winery to the road was unsealed, and although it made for a rustic approach to the cluster of buildings and the wine-tasting area, it had also been known to shake fillings loose if you went over it at high speed.

Farrah made some notes in an invoice book, tore out a perforated piece and handed it to me. “Here. I’ve given you a pretty hefty discount, in exchange for which you will a)promote the hell out of my wine tours, and b)answer my questions about this guy you’re attracted to.”

“I am not attracted to Ryan. He’s a pain in the ass. I told you what he said about the bar, and about the town. What kind of presumptuous asshole would do that?”

“Well, okay. Maybe he just doesn’t know why you’re here; you haven’t told him anything about your life, have you? Besides, he’s only been in town a few days. Give him time to warm up to the place.”

“I haven’t told him anything about my life because he seems to think he’s got it all figured out without asking me. And have you forgotten what he’s in my bar for in the first place? He wants to demolish it.” I leaned against my car with an exasperated expression, slapping my hand down on the hood. I loved Farrah dearly, but when she got hold of an idea, she went all redhead on me and wouldn’t let it go. “What makes you think I’m going to be attracted to someone who wants to destroy my livelihood?”

Farrah looked at me shrewdly. “Because every time he’s mentioned, your cheeks start to color.” She tapped her pen against her chin, as if counting.

“No they don’t.” I shook my head. “I’m a doctor. I’d know.”

“Three, two and one…” Farrah pointed triumphantly with the pen. “You’re doing it right now.”

“I am not.” I felt my cheeks. “Well, okay, maybe I am, but that’s only because we’ve been talking about it. It’s a perfectly explainable psychosomatic—oh, never mind. Look, I’ll admit he’s pretty hot, okay? Is that enough?”

“Hot? Oh yeah, he’s hot alright.” Farrah whistled. “I’m surprised you can sleep at night, being only a few feet from him in his room. Haven’t you ever—” she winked exaggeratedly, “wanted to knock on his door late at night, to find out what he’s doing in there?”

“I know what he’s doing in there. I can hear him doing it. The walls are pretty thin, you know.”

Farrah’s eyes widened. “You can?”

“Uh-huh. Sometimes late into the evening. He stops, and then starts again after a bit.”

“Really?”

“Sure. He’s definitely…typing. Ow!” I rubbed my forehead where Farrah’s flung pen had just struck me. “What was that for?” I complained.

“That was for being an ass, Milsom. Now look, admit it; you are attracted to him. Pretending otherwise won’t change anything.”

“I had better not have a pen mark on my forehead now. Okay, I might find him slightly attractive. Are you happy? But,“ I picked up the pen from the ground where it had fallen, “that doesn’t change anything, because we’re on opposite sides of this argument. I want to keep my bar. He wants to demolish it.”

“He may want to demolish it.”

“Okay, he may want to demolish it. A tiger may want to eat me, but the presence of the word ‘may’ doesn’t mean we’re suddenly going to be best friends. There isn’t much I can do about the situation.”

Farrah’s eyes narrowed, and she riffled through her invoice book speculatively. “Instead of giving him the cold shoulder, you could try something more…subtle.”

“Subtle? Like bribery? I told you, I haven’t got enough—”

“No, woman. I mean you could use your feminine wiles to change his mind.” She looked me up and down pointedly.

“Have we got feminine wiles? Is that still a thing?”

“Babe, look at that figure. Your wiles are the wiliest that ever, uh, wiled, around these parts.” Farrah made an hourglass shape with her hands. “Just get back into those stretch jeans, get a pair of heels on, and do your thing. He might be an archaeologist, but judging by the way he was kissing you, and how he looked at you at the market, he’s got blood flowing in those veins.” Farrah gave a lascivious chuckle. “Especially the important ones.”

“You’re disgusting sometimes, you know that?”

She was unrepentant. “Hey, I’m a single mom. Living vicariously through my friends’ sex lives is all I have left. Plus,” she waggled her ring finger, with the wedding ring still on it, “perfidy-of-men, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. One of them is probably perfidying all over my bar as we speak.”

“Well, you are letting me down in a major way. Apart from a brief flicker when you kissed him, it’s been,” Farrah made a plane-crashing motion with her hand, accompanied by a steadily descending whistle, “all downhill. I’m dying here, from the bottom up.”

I took hold of the door-handle of my car. “You have my sympathies for your lack of excitement in my sex life. Because, yeah, that makes a lot of sense. Anyway, I haven’t seen Ryan all day. I don’t know where he is.”

“Well, actually Miss Not Nosy Enough, I do know.” Farrah tapped the side of her nose. “He’s over at Daisy McNeish’s guest house, and he’s helping her fix her roof, so there. Sarah from the hardware store said he came in asking for a tarp and a bunch of tacks this morning. Seems to me he’s not all bad.”

“Okay, okay. It’s not that I think he’s a bad guy—although he does still irritate the hell out of me with his attitude.” I opened the car door, and sat inside, my feet on the chassis. “It’s just…he’s more interested preserving things than he is in people. When he was talking about the town, it’s like he didn’t see any of the people. All he saw was a place, and a chance to make sure things don’t get ‘forgotten’. How could anyone be like that?”

Farrah nodded sympathetically. “Still don’t see why you shouldn’t charm him if it’s going to save you the bar, though. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Ha, no. Never let ethics get in the way of feminine wiles, huh?” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, Faz. Besides, I’m not sure it would work on him.”

“What, you seriously think Ryan’s not attracted to you?” An incredulous tap of the foot made me well aware of what she thought of that hypothesis.

“No, it’s not that. I know he is, but I think this thing with making sure things don’t get forgotten is really important to him. I watched his eyes when he talked about it, Faz; I think it means everything to him. I think it means a lot more than attention from one pretty girl.”

“One very pretty girl.”

“Right back at you. Besides, I’m not really a manipulator.” When I’d left the US, I’d been terrified that Kirk would react badly, accusing me of manipulating him to get what I wanted. I’d prepared a complicated explanation for him in my head, rebutting his arguments and justifying to myself why I’d treated him fairly.

Instead, he’d barely noticed I had left; after a brief but cordial exchange where I explained what had happened, he’d wished me well, and I hadn’t had another email from him since. Part of me felt that was somehow even more insulting than the angry accusations I’d been expecting. It was as if I didn’t matter to Kirk, that he wasn’t prepared to fight for me, even to the point of being angry when I left without warning. I didn’t belong to him, any more than he did to me.

“Look, I need to get back to the bar. Andy is coming over for…a visit.”

Farrah looked sideways at her. “Oh? Tell him I said hi. He seems like a good guy, although his sister’s pretty scary. He comes up to get things from the winery now and again; he fixed May’s bike for her for free one day, and I think she’s fallen permanently in love with him as a result. She keeps asking when he’s coming back to visit.”

“Very cute. Yeah, your little daughter seems to be treated a hell of a lot better by men than you or I do. Maybe she knows something we don’t. Are you coming for the open mic night?”

Farrah put both hands up. “I’m not sure yet, sorry. If May’s having a sleepover that night, I’ll come for sure, although I might not be able to stay long.”

“Okay, honey. You know where to find me.” I pulled my car door shut, and started the engine. As I rattled carefully down the long driveway, I saw May playing in the herb garden. May looked up at the sound of the car, and waved happily to me; I waved back and made a face, making May giggle.

Farrah’s happy without a man. She doesn’t need anyone else except for her daughter; she belongs here. Why don’t I feel like I do?