The early morning rays of light peeked through her blinds signaling the start of another day. Normally Alexis’s internal clock woke her up, not the sun, but after a restless night—that she blamed entirely on Ben Martelli—she sighed heavily and swung her legs out of bed.
She wasn’t one to lie in bed and wallow about the past. She never did the high school drama bit, never mourned over the lack of girlfriends, never cared about not going to her prom. In the grand scheme of life, none of that mattered. She knew that then and she knew it now.
It’s not like she was numb to the testosterone around her when she was a teenager. She’d been surrounded by it, much to her sister’s jealousy. The boys, her teammates, didn’t see her as a girl, and she didn’t see them as boys. They were friends, peers, classmates, teammates. That is until a game of flag football the summer after high school graduation when she got tackled by a shirtless Brandon Miller.
She’d seen him without his shirt countless times and it had never fazed her before. But since she left the football team, he’d filled out more, the muscles in his arms were more defined, his chest thick instead of lean and fit like it had been during their sophomore year.
Ogling boys wasn’t one of her past times. Never crossed her mind until she’d looked up into Brandon’s dark eyes and sweaty smile. There had been a tingling between her legs and a tightening in her chest she’d never felt before. Brandon hadn’t noticed and had hopped to his feet apologizing with a grin on his face.
“Didn’t crush ya, did I, Al?”
“You’re a QB. You can’t tackle worth shit.” She’d brushed herself off and scurried to her feet, hoping he’d read the blush in her cheeks as a result of the game and the sun, and not her newly discovered desire for her longtime best friend.
They’d hung out as usual all summer when Alexis wasn’t working. And the night before he left for school in Boston, they’d had a party at the end of the tote road in the back of the Courtways’ field. There was the usual smuggling of beer and cigarettes, and Alexis had gotten drunk for the first time.
She’d been sipping wine since she was thirteen, and had built up her system pretty well, but the cans of Bud being passed around were too tempting.
As was Brandon.
When the party had settled down after midnight, they sat in the bed of his truck and gazed at the stars and talked about their futures.
It was the first time Brandon had expressed concerns about not being good enough. About competing in college, and hopefully med school. Coming from a small Maine town and the son of uneducated parents, the thought of attending Boston College, even on a full scholarship, had scared him to death.
Maybe it was the alcohol, the starry night, the myriad of emotions, but that night when he looked at Alexis with insecure eyes, she thought back to his muscled arms, and how much she’d miss their late night talks.
His easy banter. His jokes. His acceptance.
Alexis couldn’t remember who initiated it, but clothes came off and her virginity was taken. Given freely.
They didn’t talk about it the next day when friends and family said their teary good-byes. Brandon didn’t make eye contact with her and gave her a casual hug, not the swinging bear hugs like he used to give. She could read the regret in his face. It hadn’t meant to him what it had meant to her.
They’d emailed and texted each other, but when he’d come home at Thanksgiving he didn’t even call her. Nor did he at Christmas. And by his sophomore year in college he’d moved to Boston, returning home only for sporadic family visits.
Alexis had lost her best friend, her virginity, her pride, and her first crush. She’d dated a few men over the years, no one serious, and went to bed with a few. None of them called the next morning or were interested in pursuing a relationship. Not that she wanted to settle down either. Still, the ego she didn’t know she had was crushed.
The only time she felt special to a man was right before she went to bed with him. And then…
And then it was a letdown. Again and again she’d go home alone, with more regrets, and an empty heart. Not that any man had come close to filling her heart. Even Brandon who she’d crushed on so hard that summer hadn’t totally owned a piece that really mattered.
It was more the idea of having a boyfriend. Of having a guy look at her the way they looked at her sister. Men would notice Grace and ask Alexis about her. Often she felt they agreed to go on a date with Alexis just to get one step closer to her sister.
Rejection came in many shapes and sizes, and Alexis had experienced them all. From her best friend, to casual dates, to her sister. In one way or another, she’d never been good enough to keep anyone’s attention for very long. Any interest in her was usually for a purpose, whether it be to get closer to her sister or just to get laid.
Ben fit the mold as well. Sure, he expressed a sexual interest in her now. He wanted her to agree to his destructive plan and then he’d jet back to California, leaving Alexis attached and alone.
It wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t let it.
Turning on the morning news while she got ready, she listened to the weather report as she brushed her teeth and hair, and stilled. Toothbrush in hand, she peeked out of her bathroom at the television and read the screen. Temperatures were expected to drop drastically today and tonight. The perfect night for picking frozen grapes.
With the warm fall that kept the grapes growing longer than normal, and cool winter temperatures of late, tonight’s deep freeze would make the ideal conditions for ice wine. She’d read through her research one more time and prep for tonight just in case.
This was her dream.
Anxious and excited for the prospect of crafting ice wine for the first time, Alexis rushed through her morning ritual. She hurried her snuggle time with Hemmy, filling his bowl with his favorite chow and, forgoing breakfast, bundled up in her usual duds, and jogged down her stairs to check on the netting over the Riesling vines. Hemmy was in his usual glory as he ran around the property sniffing around for a squirrel or chipmunk brave enough to face the cold.
Hours later, her stomach and fuzzy brain reminded her she needed to slow down and eat, especially if she was going to be up all night harvesting frozen grapes. The temperature had been a steady twenty all day, with the promise of a big dip tonight. Giddy with excitement, she let herself in to her parents’ kitchen, Hemmy at her heels, and opened the fridge in hunt of leftover pulled pork.
“Hey, sweetheart. I was on my way out to the fields to find you.” Her father took another plate down from the cabinet, and she scooped a pile of food onto it, tossing a piece of pork to the dog.
“Did you see the news? We should get a decent harvest of frozen grapes tonight. You and Mom may want to take a nap. It’s going to be a long one.”
“I knew you’d be all over this. You’ve been talking about ice wine for sometime.”
“Three years. We’ve had late frosts or cool summers. This is our year, Dad. I knew it was. We don’t need to turn our place into a construction zone to bring in more customers. Our ice wine will make the magazines, I’m sure of it. The Riesling are in their prime right now. The nets kept most of the birds away. Market research shows we can sell our bottles for thirty bucks, easy.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. While I’m just as excited for you to try your hand at ice wine, it’s not something we can bank on. The Canadians are the ones who own that market. Building a function hall is something that can consistently bring in customers, though.”
“Yeah? And for the record, we’re not bringing in grapes from Italy.” Ben hadn’t mentioned anything about importing but she wanted to make sure her father understood her loud and clear. “We’re not Napa Valley or Sonoma. We’re not even the Finger Lakes. We’re Maine and should be proud of it.”
“I agree with you there. I told Ben we were sticking with our grapes, maybe look into a few more hybrids, but we’re loyal to our own. He didn’t take offense to it.”
Alexis snorted and opened the microwave when it dinged. “I don’t really care what he takes offense to. This is our land. Our wine. Our reputation, and we’re not going to have some Italian ruin it for us.” Not that she had anything against Italy. It was a beautiful country, she was sure. It had everything to do with Ben and him getting to her in more ways than one.
Her father laughed and patted her on the back. “You’ve always been my spunky one.”
“Your loyal one,” Alexis muttered before shoveling her lunch in her mouth.
“Grace is loyal to our family as well. She’s not like you and me though. She needs to find herself. She’ll be back.”
Her father was more forgiving and trusting than her, that was for sure. A tinge of guilt poked at her full belly. Her father had kept Coastal Vines in operation out of loyalty and obligation to his father, and because Alexis had asked him to. What if they really were hurting financially? She left the money management to her parents, opting to run the vineyard and winemaking process instead.
If they needed to improve productivity, she’d consider adding more vines, but those would take three years to produce quality grapes. The ice wine would be their way out of debt, if that was the problem.
They ate standing at the counter, knowing if Claudia came in she’d scold them for their poor manners. Ignoring her guilt at bad mouthing her sister, Alexis washed their plates in silence and slipped on her coat.
“Think the Jeffreys will lend some of their crew for harvesting?”
“I’ll call Ryan. Chances are they won’t go out lobstering tomorrow anyway with the cold spell coming in.”
“Sounds good. I’ll call Brady and Carter. I’m sure they’ll help us harvest as well.” The Marshall brothers had been running their blueberry farm and apple orchard across the road since their father died ten years ago when they were in high school. Winter was slow for them and they were hard workers. Friends, too. “I’ll get the buckets and press ready. Time is not on our side. Looks like tomorrow may warm up to the mid-thirties.”
“I’ll make some calls.”
The rest of the afternoon, Alexis scrambled around, gathering everything they’d need to press the grapes while still frozen. They’d turned the over-sized barn into the pressing area nearly a decade ago and turned their smaller pressing room into the tasting room. Alexis never had a problem with that addition. Granted she was barely out of high school and was excited to have her own apartment upstairs.
And while they expanded the pressing space, it didn’t commercialize them, only improved their product. What Ben wanted to do…no, she didn’t have time to think about the city boy and his stupid plans.
Speaking of, the Italian filled up the doorway to the barn, warming up the room more than she liked.
“We’re busy.”
“Your dad said you could use another pair of hands.” Ben crouched and rubbed behind Hemmy’s ears, turning her dog into a weak pile of fur.
Alexis snorted. “Not yours.”
“What’s wrong with mine?” He stepped into the barn, closing the door behind him.
Alexis made herself look busy sanitizing the press. Again. “It’s cold, and it’s hard work. Something you’d pass off to your farm hands.”
“Stereotype much?”
“I don’t need to. Besides, you’re a businessman now. Eye on the dollar signs, not the grapes. My Riesling are fragile, and you hardly have the capacity to be gentle and nurturing.”
“I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, but okay.” Ben pulled off his gloves and shoved them in his pocket. “Do you have another press I can prep?”
“No.”
“‘No,’ as in you don’t have another one, or ‘no’ as in you don’t want my help?”
“Yes.”
“Yes you want my help?”
“No.” Alexis couldn’t keep up. All she wanted was him out of her space. He confused her too much. Reminded her of things she didn’t want to think about or feel. He infuriated her professionally, and personally, well, she really didn’t want to think about that right now.
Sighing, Ben leaned against the press Alexis was cleaning—again—and crossed his arms. “Whether you want me to or not, I’m helping out tonight. I’ve never seen ice wine being made. It intrigues me.”
“Well lah-ti-da. While you’re busy being intrigued, I’m going to be busting my ass in frigid temperatures in hopes to make a few hundred bottles of wine.”
“My help should help you bust your ass a little bit less.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.” Alexis wadded up the dirty paper towels and chucked them in a nearby trash.
“Alright. Elephant in the room time.” Ben took her by her shoulders and turned Alexis around so she faced him. “I said something last night that pissed you off. Whatever I said, I’m sorry. God knows that wasn’t my intent. I thought our night would end much differently than it did.”
Alexis pulled away. “You’re pathetic if you think sleeping with me will change my mind.”
“Change your mind on what? I’m not even talking about sex.”
“Bullshit.”
“So the elephant isn’t about my first draft plan for the winery, but about sex?”
“No. It’s about…never mind.” She hated that she sounded like a raving lunatic. This was what Ben’s icy blue eyes did to her. Brain fog set in, and she couldn’t remember what she was saying, why she was mad, what she was doing.
The last thing she wanted to turn into was a weak-minded woman blinded by money, shiny objects, and a sexy man. She’d lost her sister to them, and refused to follow in her footsteps.
Crushing on a man because of his looks was as out of character as wearing heels to work. Ben made her think about life beyond the winery and she resented him for it. She’d always taken her job seriously and wouldn’t allow a man to step in and alter her focus.
To be fair, it wasn’t Ben she was mad at. It was herself. Her stubborn nature wouldn’t let her enjoy casual flirting. It was okay a few days ago when she thought he was passing through town and she’d never have to see him again.
Which he still was, in a way. Only now that pissed her off. She’d gotten too close to him and liked him too much. His charm, his humor, how kind he was to her parents. Ben had all the qualities she didn’t know she was looking for in a man.
And he was just passing through town.
“You know what I found attractive about you the first time I saw you at the Sunrise Diner?”
“Don’t care.” No. She wouldn’t succumb to his dimples.
“It was how direct you were. Straight and to the point. This flare for drama you’ve got going on isn’t very attractive.”
“Excuse me?” If ever anyone wanted to ruffle her feathers, this was how. “I am the least dramatic person I know. I’m ignoring you because I don’t do dramatic.”
“Uh huh.” Ben shook his head and smiled in disbelief. “If you’re so straightforward, then tell me why you hate me so much.”
“You want to know? You really want to know?” Alexis pushed off from the wall she’d cozied up to and jabbed her callused finger into Ben’s chest. Blood rushed to her face in anger. “You come into my town, my family’s winery with your Italian-Irish good boy looks and try to charm the pants off me, and sweet talk my parents with manners and etiquette. You think your hot kisses and pretend smoldering looks and fake kind words are enough to convince me to throw out everything I value—which is tradition and family—and fall at your knees, thanking you with sex for your elaborate plan to turn our small business into some multimillion dollar corporation. I will not fall to modern day society’s expectations of what is in. That,” she jabbed him harder, “Benito Martelli, is why I can’t stand to see your smug face.”
“Our kisses are pretty hot.”
“Pig.”
“And my looks and words aren’t fake.”
“As if.”
“And sex with you wouldn’t be a payment or a thank you. It would be because the chemistry between us is crazy, combustible. You and I both know it. I can see it in your eyes. You want me as much as I want you.”
She hated how right he was. Hated her traitorous body. Hated how she was overreacting and turning into a drama queen. She wasn’t the shallow kind of girl who could be swayed with good looks and charm. This battle was about her honoring Grumpy’s dying wishes, not about curbing her annoying crush on him.
“Shut up.” Alexis spun on her heels and stomped to the back room to get more vats.
Two hours later, the crew set up a bonfire away from the barn and the grapes where they could thaw their fingers during short breaks, and Claudia set up carafes of coffee and muffins inside the tasting room. They’d need to leave the barn doors open to keep the grapes frozen at all times.
When Brady and Carter Marshall and Curtis and Ryan Jeffrey arrived Alexis called everyone around the fire to go over responsibilities.
“It’s crucial that the grapes stay frozen at all times. We have to pick and press them all by eight tomorrow morning. Once the sun comes up and the temperature rises, the grapes will lose their flavor.”
The winter had been the perfect weather conditions, light freeze, slow defrosts. Just enough for the flavors to intensify inside each grape.
“Is it true that each grape only produces one drop of wine?” Curtis asked.
“Something like that.” She ignored Ben as he sidled up next to her. Too close.
“Seems like a lot of work for not much of anything.”
“You’ll change your mind when you try a glass of the ice wine.” At least, Alexis hoped so. She’d done a lot of reading and research over the years, waiting for the right conditions to try her hand at the specialty wine. Some day she’d like to visit the Niagara district in Canada and watch how they harvest their grapes. In the meantime, she had only her tiny crop to work with.
“You’ll need to be careful when removing the netting from each vine. The grapes may be tangled in it and you don’t want to lose or crush any. And try not to handle them too long. Even your body temperature is enough to thaw them, making them lose their intensity.”
“Think this will take all night?” Ryan asked.
“Probably. Ryan, Carter, and Mom, you’ll start at the north end. Dad, you, Brady, Curtis and I will start on the south. Once we have enough to start pressing we can alternate between you, Mom, and me in the barn. You,” she gestured to Ben, “can be the runner. The crates get heavy, and I don’t want my mom hurting her back.” And she wanted Ben to feel it tomorrow.
Payback was a bitch. And so was she.
“I’ll be fine, sweetheart.” Her mom rubbed her hands in the heat from the fire.
“Why can’t Curtis be in my group? We were going to talk shop while we pick, if that’s okay,” Ryan asked. He was a complainer in high school as well. A good worker, but semi-annoying.
Alexis didn’t trust the Jeffrey boys to be on top of their game. Carter worked his tail off on his farm, but Brady was the more responsible one.
“I’ll look after them,” her mother whispered. “Ben, you can join Alexis and Shane. I’ll take the rest of the boys.” Claudia patted her arm and joined her new crew. “We’ll take turns being the runner.” At least Alexis could trust her mom to keep the boys in line. Until their fingers froze off, that is.
“I can help with the pressing as well,” Ben offered.
“I don’t think so.” Alexis turned her back on him.
She showed everyone to the pile of crates he’d helped her stack earlier. “Mom has a stew on the stove. Let’s get warm and fill our bellies before the fun starts.”
They trekked up the slope to the main house, stomping the snow and dirt off their boots before going inside, and each hung up their coat on hooks in the mudroom, Hemmy at their heels. As always.
Alexis wanted to be the last to eat, her stomach still turning in anxious knots over the prospect of her first batch of ice wine, but Ben gently nudged her ahead of him.
“Ladies first.”
“I’m not eating much.”
“Yes, you are. You’re about to put in ten hours of hard labor in the freezing cold. If you don’t take care of yourself you’ll be no good to your crew.”
It irked her how right he was. “Whatever.” Ugh. There goes that word again. She was sounding more and more like a teenage girl every day. Kind of like her sister, who she missed like crazy, even if Grace drove her mad half the time. When they were together, all was fine. It was when she was away—which had been a lot lately—that Alexis’s resentment grew.
She ate in silence, not paying much attention to the chatter at the dining room table, finding comfort in her dog at her feet. Curtis, Ryan, and Carter peppered Ben with questions about the other coast—if California girls were all tall, blonde, and hot like the movies portrayed, and if he liked his wine better than Coastal Vines.
Shane, Claudia, and Alexis paused, waiting for his response.
Ben sipped his Lobster Red, Alexis’s favorite of their reds, and dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Shrimp or scallops? Lobster or crab? Haddock or Striper? Why do we have to choose? It’s all delicious.”
“Crab? Dude, there’s no comparison. Maine lobster wins all the time.”
“Says the Maine lobsterman.” Ben picked up his wine glass and toasted Ryan. “I look forward to sampling some of the lobster that comes off your boat.”
“Now’s the time to eat lobster. Them claws are chock full of meat right now. Kinda like a bear storing up on food for the winter.”
Once dinner was eaten and bellies were full, Alexis led her small crew outside again.
“I’ll keep an eye on the shmucks.” Brady rested his arm across Alexis’s shoulders. They’d been close friends since elementary schools. Both into sports and their farms, both not the least bit interested in the popularity contests and drama.
“I appreciate it. Thanks for helping. I owe you big time.”
Brady picked up a crate and strolled off to the west side of the field.
As soon as he left Ben pulled her aside as the men continued toward the fire.
“Here. I saw these things at Boon’s and thought they might come in handy.” He pulled out a bunch of packages of hand and foot warmers.
“Do you even know what they do?”
“Yeah. Boon said you put them in your gloves and they keep your hands warm. Ingenious, really.”
“They’re a staple around here.” Alexis pulled out two wrappers from her coat pocket. “Although I don’t recommend putting them in your gloves. We want to keep the grapes frozen. Put them in your boots though.”
Ben laughed. “You weren’t going to tell me about these snazzy little inventions, were you? Hoping I’d lose a toe or something?”
“Or something.” Had she known ahead of time that Ben would be around for the harvest she probably would have given him toe warmers. “If you can’t handle the cold, this job may be too much for you.”
“The weather I can handle.”
“As opposed to…?”
Ben winked at her and shoved the warmers in his coat pocket. “You don’t scare me, Alexis Le Blanc. Bring it on.”
“Oh really?” She ran her tongue across her teeth and assessed her competition. No, he wasn’t competition. He was…a challenge? No. A competitor for sure. And Alexis didn’t like to lose.
“Ten bucks says you run inside to thaw out before I do.”
“Ten? That’s all?” Ben pulled his knit cap lower, covering his ears, and assessed her thoroughly with his pretty eyes. “Loser has to give the other a foot massage. In front of the fire.”
“Gross. I don’t touch feet.”
“Know you’ll lose, huh?”
Her stubborn Irish gene won out. “As if. Game on, Italian boy.”
“Why not Italian Stallion?”
“Please.” Alexis rolled her eyes and hid her smile as she marched off toward the fire. She checked the weather app on her phone one more time. Pleased with the report, she put it back in her pocket and called out to her help. “Time to roll, people. Remember to keep the grapes frozen at all times. No handling them or bringing them by the fire. The barn door must stay opened. If it gets too cold, you can go into the tasting room. Mom has coffee and muffins by the fireplace.”
She handed out clippers to everyone, picked up her empty wooden crate, and marched off to her Rieslings.
An hour later they had enough grapes to start the first run on the press. She gently and slowly placed the grapes in the press and watched the magic appear. Her heart raced and her feet tapped restlessly.
“This isn’t something you get to see every day, especially in Napa Valley. Mind if I help?”
Too excited to care about Ben invading her space, she nodded in agreement. “I can’t say I know much about ice wine. Why is it so important to press the grapes while they’re still frozen?”
Alexis’s cheeks hurt from smiling, from the cold, from her accomplishment. She did it. After three years of research and Mother Nature on her side, she’d harvested a successful crop of ice grapes.
This time, the lightness in her chest and racing heartbeat had nothing to do with Ben’s proximity. Tonight was about her dream coming true. For years she’d kept the winery running by staying true to Grumpy’s formulas and producing consistently classic wine.
Picking and pressing the frozen grapes and turning them into ice wine was about her dreams, her goals, her accomplishments. Alexis wasn’t following in someone else’s footsteps. Tonight she was trailblazing her own path, making her own mark in the wine world.
Her senses heightened, she could practically taste the sweetness in the air and her excitement came out in a flurry of words.
“The water in the juice remains frozen as ice crystals during the pressing, and only a few drops of the sweet concentrated juice are obtained from each grape. Most of the water, which is ice right now, is left behind.” She hummed as she busied herself around the press, slowly adding grapes to the feeder. “Look at this gorgeousness. Not a drop of water.”
“Like Curtis said earlier, a lot of work for a few drops.”
“And totally worth it. Do you know how many gallons of maple sap is needed to make one gallon of syrup?” She didn’t care for his or Curtis’s skepticism, and wouldn’t let either one of them bring her down from her euphoric high.
“Can’t say I do.”
“Forty.” Alexis continued to feed the grapes through the press, her heart beating more rapidly with each bunch. When the box was empty, Ben pushed it aside and brought over another.
“Don’t tell any sugar house in New England that it’s a waste of time.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. So what happens after the pressing?”
“After racking and clearing the sediment, the clear juice is inoculated with a strong yeast culture.”
“Same as regular wine. Anything different with the rest of the process?”
Tempted to warm her hands, preferably under Ben’s coat, she resisted the urge and took in a gulp of icy cold air. “You can feel the dry, cold in your lungs. It’s fascinating, and what makes for ideal conditions. The juice from frozen grapes is very sweet, and can be difficult to ferment. The high sugars can create a hostile environment for the yeast. Fermentation stops early, leaving relatively low alcohol and high sugar levels in the finished wine. It can take weeks to months to age. I’ll have to check it regularly as I really don’t know what to expect.”
Now she sounded like a tour guide, but she didn’t care. There weren’t many wineries in the U.S. that made real ice wine. “You know, many attempt this and fail. They end up with icebox wine.” She prayed she didn’t fail. Rejection had come to her in many ways over the years, and this was not another one she wanted to add to her list.
“What’s that?” Curtis and Ryan, and any man she’d dated, would roll their eyes at her monologue, but Ben studied her with interest and an unfamiliar warmth spread in her chest.
Alexis broke off leaves and twigs from a bunch of grapes and tossed them aside in a barrel. Hemmy nudged his nose in the scraps, finding a decent size branch to chew on. “It’s when winemakers pick the grapes before they freeze, and then basically stick them in a freezer. It’s not the real deal. Still a nice wine, but fools gold, you know?”
“I can’t wait to taste the final product.”
Alexis lifted her gaze from the press and snorted. “You won’t be around.”
“I’ll come back.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Just like Brandon did. Sure, Ben may come back someday to pay her family a visit, to look in on his investment, but he wouldn’t be coming back to see Alexis. No one ever did.
Charlie, Drew, Pete. They were part of her group as well. Once they flitted off to points of yonder, none of them gave her a second thought. They all had wives and kids, and were living the life in bigger cities.
Ben held up a bunch of grapes for Alexis and she took them without making eye contact.
“I’m running out of grapes.”
“I’ll go check on the others.” He left and a wave of guilt fermented in her belly.
He had been nothing but sweet and kind, offering his time in the middle of the night to help her family harvest. He’d taken the clippers out of her mom’s hands an hour ago and asked if she could make more coffee for the crew. It wasn’t a chauvinistic move, but a subtle way to get Claudia to take a break and warm up.
Alexis noticed the care he took in snipping the bunches of grapes, the finesse in how he handled each grape as if it were a delicate piece of china. She’d also noticed how he did most of the hauling of the grapes to the barn, taking the physical load off her father’s back.
While she ran back and forth from the press to the vines, she never saw Ben take a break. He never complained, never stood around doing nothing. His concern for others was evident when he reminded each, almost hourly, to go inside and have some coffee, or to change out their wet gloves for a dry pair.
“You’re allowed coffee and bathroom breaks, you know,” she said to him when he returned with another crate of frozen grapes.
“I’m good. I’d like to see the sunrise. I bet it’s gorgeous coming up over the horizon.”
She followed him out to the frozen ground where the vines were nearly picked clean. They were planted on the south side of the slope so they would get the most amount of sun. Ben had made his way down the final row of grapes and stood, stretching his back and arms. “We may have the prettiest sunsets in the country, but I hear no one can hold a candle to a Maine sunrise.”
“The top of Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park is the first place in the United States that sees the sun.”
“Have you ever been up there at sunrise?”
“No.” And she didn’t need another reminder of all the things she had yet to do in her life.
There was an adventurous side in Alexis that she’d curbed when she hit her twenties and realized this was where she belonged. On her family’s winery in coastal Maine. Men, money, vacations, a social life…none of them mattered anymore.
Or at least, she didn’t want them to. Not when that’s what ruled her sister’s life. Not when boys passed Alexis over, or used her to get to Grace. Better to lay low and dive into work.
“When I come back I’m going to drag your sweet little behind up that mountain, and we’re going to sample your ice wine.”
“In the morning?”
“Why not?”
“I think Curtis and Ryan can finish with the grapes. Why don’t you go inside and warm up?” She ignored his suggestion knowing he was full of false promises, and trudged her tired legs back toward the barn.
They’d cleared nearly all the vines with time to spare, and produced more wine than she expected. It was still too soon to abandon her grapes and the press. She wanted—needed—to have her hands in the action.
Now that she knew she’d have ice wine to bottle, Alexis needed to order spilts. The thin bottles were stylish, and a collector’s item for many.
“Have you thought of a name for your ice wine?”
“I have a couple I’ve been playing with.”
“How about Crystal Ice?”
“What?” Alexis stopped in her tracks in front of the barn.
“It’s catchy. Brings recognition to your town as well as your wine.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Thin air?”
“Oh my God! I love it.” She really did, and wasn’t too proud to admit he actually came up with a good idea.
“What ideas are you tossing around?”
“They’re dumb. Grace is actually the one with the knack for names.”
“Lobster Red is very catchy.”
“Grace’s idea. I thought it was tacky, but people love it. I’ve been thinking about Coastal Ice, or Mainely Ice.” Ben scrunched his nose. “See? Stupid. Told you so.”
“You’re extremely talented in other areas.” He took the crate of grapes from Alexis and carried them inside the barn, leaving her flattered and flushed.
She took over the press, giving her parents a break, insisting they go inside to warm up or take a nap. When she was alone again, her thoughts drifted from grapes to bottles to warm, blue eyes.
“You look like you could use this.” Ben filled the doorway, a mug of coffee in one hand, a muffin in the other.
She stepped down from the stool she was on and rubbed her gloved hands together. “Coffee sounds wonderful. I can’t believe I haven’t succumbed until now.”
She took the mug from Ben and let the rich, steamy aroma of French beans swarm her face. “I love my mother’s coffee.” She sipped slowly and moaned as the hot liquid coated her throat. He’d even used her favorite French vanilla creamer.
“Claudia said to go heavy on the cream. She thought you’d want the orange cranberry muffin, too.”
“My mother is a saint.” She bit into the sweet treat and held back another moan. Normally she’d be rolling out of bed and shoving a muffin down her throat for breakfast, but this morning it all tasted different.
Special. Hopeful. Full of promises.
Ben tipped an empty crate up on its side and motioned for her to sit, then did the same to another crate and pulled up next to her. “How many bottles do you think you’ll cork?”
“Well,” Alexis started, wiping the crumbs from her lips, “ice wine is traditionally bottled in 375 milliliter bottles.”
“Bellissima.” The Italian accent rolled off Ben’s tongue, and Alexis did all she could not to lap him up.
Curbing her sexual appetite, she bit into her muffin again, followed by a healthy gulp of coffee. “You were listening to my lesson earlier.”
“I always listen to you.” His heated stare, the intimacy of the cold barn, the sleepless night, all were weighing heavily on her libido. She needed a distraction. Fast.
“Where’d you get the coffee?”
Ben tilted his head sideways, apparently confused with her change of topic and odd question. “In the tasting room, where it’s been set up all night. Why?”
“So you went inside to get it?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Score one for Alexis. “Looks like you owe me a foot massage.”