27
BRYN
“Wow, well, thank you,” I say into my cell speaker. “See you on Friday.”
After I press the red button to hang up, a squeal escapes me. I get up from the stool and start on the old-school version of the running-man dance. It doesn’t even matter our viewers are probably laughing their asses off. Not even humiliation is going to stop my celebration. A squeak of a chair leg later, my sister joins me, fake-break-dancing until she messes up—Vic has never been much of a dancer—and falls over me in a fit of laughter.
“I can’t believe it! An endorsement deal.” I raise my hand for a high five, and Vic slaps it, lacing her fingers in mine. “It’s freaking amazing!”
I might not have been pleased at how cheesy Mitchell was on the air with Sophia in our television segment earlier this week, but the audience gobbled it up. Of those watching were the folks from Kitchen and Baths, who just offered us freebies with the agreement to use their products exclusively on air.
Chef Reyes walks by our windows dragging one of her moving boxes from the guest house. She’s in sweats and a tank, and her impressive sleeve and back tattoo is on partial display.
I wave her inside. “Ellie!”
“What’s up?” She spies me and my sister, who’s texting someone furiously. “Did you guys mix drinks, and if so, why wasn’t I invited?”
“We just scored dinnerware and a set of every size pot and pan imaginable for each of our guests to use,” I say. My eyes mist over at how the tide has turned. In the last week, I’ve been able to pay for our renovations and put some money in the bank using our cut of the profits from viewership, and now this. Slowly, this live stream is truly paying off, and we’re going to be more than ready for this opening.
Vic looks up from her phone. “We’ll have Mikasa dishes and Cuisinart and KitchenAid and everything on your wish list, Ellie. It’s all coming along.”
“No shit, really . . .” Ellie’s eyes fly to the camera, and a sheepish grin takes over her face. “Sorry. I keep forgetting.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Vic pats her on the shoulder. “If my sister can curb her potty mouth, I know you can.”
I play-pinch Vic on her bicep, and she yowls like a hound dog. She’s between trips, so she has been helping with the opening celebration prep. With it less than a month away, she’s addressed all the paper invitations to the guests on our VIP list, which includes our family, friends, and local business owners, as well as some San Francisco and Sacramento contacts who are in the travel and restaurant business. With Mitchell and his brothers busy getting the winery plans started at Mountainridge, and Ellie in town for the weekend to bring in the first of her things now that the guest house is complete, it feels like a girls’ weekend at Paraiso.
“We should celebrate,” Ellie suggests. “I need a break from unpacking. I know it’s ludicrous to say this, but I don’t want to cook.”
Vic’s eyes light up in agreement. “And as much as I love your cooking, I agree. Let’s get out of here, have a night out. Why don’t we go out with your man, ate? Make it more fun?”
“Who, Mitchell?” A spot on the counter has my attention, and I scratch at it until it’s gone. I haven’t yet told Vic that my relationship with Mitchell progressed. She knows as much as the audience does, that it’s a purely G-rated relationship, and I haven’t found a good time to mention it.
Selfishly, I want to keep the intimate parts of our relationship to ourselves, since the world seems to know everything else about us.
“Duh.” Vic spins, leaning back on the counter, facing away from the camera. “And his two brothers. Holy hotness. If I was only single.”
My face snaps to her just as she clamps her mouth shut. Only one of those sentences stuck. “You’re not single? What the hell? Who and how?”
Ellie puts her hands up. “Sounds to me like this is a family issue, so I’m going to head back—”
“Uh-uh, Ellie, you’re family now.” Victoria slinks her arm around Ellie. “Yeah, I have a boyfriend.”
Crossing my arms, I become my father. “And?”
Defiance crosses her face, nose high in the air. “And, what?”
I coax her with a wave of a hand. While I’m dying to know this guy’s name, announcing it on air would be the wrong kind of exposure. Instead I ask, “And . . . you met him . . .”
“On the Internet.”
Red flags wave in my mind, but I keep a straight face. My sister’s entire brand is Internet based, and most of her business contacts stem from this outlet.
She anticipates my hesitance. “Don’t freak. We’ve been corresponding for months.”
Ellie gives her the side-eye. “You haven’t met him yet, but you’ve already taken yourself off the market?”
“Almost. We haven’t exactly made it official, but we will soon.”
Imaginary bombs are exploding now, telling me this sounds fishy. “Okay, so he’s real, though, right?”
“Ugh. Forget it.” She rolls her eyes. “This is what I have to live with, Ellie. Tell my sister Internet friendships are sometimes even more meaningful than real-life ones.”
“Nope. I’m the youngest of five kids. I know better than to take sides. All I want to do is eat.”
As if glad for the change in subject, Vic says, “Me, too.”
Note to self—follow-up is necessary with this boyfriend situation. I sigh, a headache forming, but the sun has dipped just below the horizon. My perfect time of day. “Hold that thought. It’s sunset time.” I head to our new teak chairs under our simple bamboo pergola that was finished yesterday, but I detour first to the other side of the deck, where I can catch the best view of the upper vineyard, and where I hope to sneak in a glimpse of Mitchell.
He hasn’t come down to Paraiso the last several days. And nope, he’s currently nowhere in the vines. I pull out my phone and text him: You’re missing a great sunset out here.
Dots show up to say he’s texting back. Are you sure it’s not me you miss?
I reply: Are you sure it’s not the other way around?
You’re right. I miss you. I prefer our version of banter. Levi’s a bull in a china shop.
I frown. This isn’t the first time Mitchell’s mentioned their conflicts, and with my limited interaction with Levi, I’ve gleaned the man is bossy. Yet what older sibling isn’t? But while Vic knows exactly how to push my buttons so she gets what she wants, Mitchell seems to fall back and allow Levi to take the wheel.
Vic interrupts my thoughts. “What is this? Is this melancholy I detect on your face?”
“No.”
“Loneliness? Sorrow?”
“No, Miss Thesaurus,” I shoot back, though she’s right. With the news of the winery reestablishing, a palpable shift has taken place, with the crew splitting their time between Paraiso and Dunford. The house has been in less of a flurry. Without Mitchell, it feels . . . empty. “I’m just thinking.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking? That this relationship is different?”
I look to see where the camera is, and it’s stalled with Ellie in the kitchen. “It is different. It’s on live stream.”
“It’s not just that. You haven’t been with a guy for this long, ever. Usually . . . usually you get tired of them after a couple of dates. And when you’re not with Mitchell, you aren’t as happy. You should really invite him out with us.”
“What do you call all the dancing we did in there? I’m perfectly happy with or without the guy. Anyway, Levi, the older one, is only here another week, and they’ve got to get Dunford on track. I’m pretty sure they’ve got their own plans.”
“There you are.” A low voice makes me turn, and my heart seizes at the sight of Mitchell in a waffle-knit long sleeve and cargo pants, cut just right to show every bit of the body I’m tempted to touch every minute of every day.
“Hey” is all I can say, though as he comes closer, the tiredness I felt earlier leaves me completely. He exudes male energy, his grin bright in the dimming light.
Behind him is the camera, watching our next move.
He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, his hand on my hip. It’s for the audience, I know, because if we were alone, he would kiss me on the lips. He’d run his hands up and down my back, and my clothes would be off in two-point-five seconds.
But simply in close proximity, I’m rendered dizzy. He’s like a warm drink, sipped ever so slowly. When I open my eyes, I notice my sister has left our side.
“Couldn’t resist coming down with the sunset text you sent. I missed you,” he says.
“I missed you, too.” I tear my eyes away at my too-honest words. We walk to the other side of the deck and stare at the view over Golden as the sun descends, and the town, once bathed in light, is shrouded in the beginnings of shadows and night. His arm is slung over my shoulder, mine is around his waist. We don’t speak, and we don’t have to. The last month has catapulted this friendship to one that is indescribable and intense, though freeing at the same time. It’s become one where he can read my mind, and I can anticipate his next move with a slight nod, a tug on the wrist, or a quick upturn of lips.
That is, until his brothers’ arrival. They threw a kink in this idyllic space we created for ourselves. Levi and Cody are nice enough, our first real-life meeting off camera sterile but polite.
But I’m unsteady, self-conscious. Their opinion of me shouldn’t matter, but Mitchell and I have a real relationship. Shaky, and sometimes confusing, but real, and a part of me wants his brothers to approve of me.
“So what’s up with these plans of yours for tonight?” he asks.
“We didn’t want to cook, so we may head out to grab something. Vic thought we should extend the invite to you all, but you seem to be busy over there.”
He glances up as the crew heads into the house. “Busy is an understatement. Levi’s a hurricane, and shit’s getting done, quickly. We met with an interior designer today so we can get the tasting room renovated before the harvest. He wants everything ready to go so we can have tours come through as early as late August.”
“You won’t have wine ready to sell by then, will you?”
“Of the older and aged vintages in bottles, yes. Which brings me to the second reason I came down.”
This is a serious Mitchell, without a trace of humor in his voice. “What’s up?”
“Levi. He’s got some concerns about my plans. He wants to change things around in terms of the reallocation of space here on the hill because we’ll have two businesses side by side.”
“I don’t see why that’s an issue, since the lease is pretty specific as to what’s mine to use.” I feel my blood pressure rise. I did not expect this, not today, and not from Mitchell. “Besides, why would he get to have the final say? You signed my lease.”
“It’s not as easy as that. He’s the oldest, and he’s here now, making him lead.” He puts a hand up. “I know. It makes no sense. Look, the only reason I’m telling you this is because you might hear some grumblings from my siblings, and I don’t want you to panic. Your deal is with me, and I want you to trust me. You trust me, right?”
“Of course I do, but I don’t get it. Trust you to do what?”
“To deal with my brother as I see fit.” He pauses, his eyes scouring my face. “I can already see the fight in you. You’re raring to go, I can tell. But trust that I’ll make it work.”
I heave a sigh. “Okay.”
He leans in and his lips linger on mine, which stills the doubts in my heart. I enjoy this kiss, using all of my senses.
“Damn.” He keeps me pressed against him after we’ve come up for air. “How about you and I get out of here alone?”
“I can’t lie. It’s tempting.” I grin. “But I’ve got a houseful, and so do you.”
“I guess you’re right.” He sighs dramatically. “There’s a brewery a couple of towns over we want to try out. We can share a taxi. Cody’s bringing his . . . well, a friend. Sound good?”
“Sure.”
“Great, I’ll grab Levi . . .” Anticipation laces the last of his words.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.” I reach up and touch his cheek. As he leans against my palm, I’m tempted to tell everyone to find their own way to dinner. He and I, like this, are so right. So true. And I can tell something’s up. “You okay?”
He nods. “My nights haven’t been the same. I miss talking to you, sleeping next to you.” He leans into my ear and whispers, “I keep thinking of the sounds you make when I touch you—”
My cheeks flame, and I push him away before he can say anything else to embarrass me. “Get out of here, bastos.”
“What does that mean?”
“Filthy. Shameless. Dirty boy.”
He throws his head back and laughs. He bows before jogging away through the shortcut.
I head inside to grab my purse, and realize Joel is still packing up. “Hey, um, Joel?”
He pulls out an earbud. “Sorry. There were some sound issues with today’s feed, and I’m troubleshooting the equipment because Joey had to leave. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
I smile at him reassuringly. Joel barely speaks, seemingly content behind the camera. He always looks the same, always in black. “You must be starving. Would you like to come with us?”
He shakes his head. “Naw, I’m good. You guys have been nice enough to make lunch for us every day—”
Victoria clatters in wearing a change of clothes and shoes, making me turn. “Got my purse. Do you think I need a scarf?”
“Slacks, Vic? For real? I’ve got torn jeans on.”
“Whatever you want to wear is fine with me, Bryn. Slacks are comfy. They’re a step away from silk pajamas. And I look nice, don’t you think so, Joel?” She strikes a pose.
“Um. Yeah, actually. Gray slacks, red shirt. It’s a good contrast.” He looks up at me. “I look through a lens all day. Kind of notice these things.”
“See? Joel approves.” My sister’s smile is triumphant. “I’m gonna get Ellie.”
I refocus my attention on Joel. “Dude, c’mon. An hour for something greasy and delicious? You need brain fuel.” When he turns his face upward, as if deliberating, I cock my head like he doesn’t have a choice. I’m not going to leave the guy here in an empty house without anything to eat. My mother would turn in her grave. “You’re not allowed to say no.”
“Okay, if you don’t mind me tagging along.”
“None of us will. You’re practically family.” It’s not one bit a lie. The guy has seen everything. Good and bad, unfiltered and up-front.
Shit. Does he know Mitchell and I are faking it? Or, were faking it?
An SUV taxi arrives with Mitch and Levi already inside. After a round of introductions, Vic, Joel, Ellie, and I get in: Vic, Joel, and Ellie in the back row, Levi and me in the middle, and Mitch in the passenger seat.
“Things are really coming along with Lavenderhill. I mean, Par— Par—” Levi struggles with the name.
“Paraiso.” I smile. “It’s okay, it takes a little practice, but after you say it a couple of times, it rolls off the tongue.”
“It’s . . . interesting,” he says, with a tone that says otherwise.
I turn on my spiel, feeling the need to turn the tables so I’m in control of our conversation. “It’s been an amazing journey. The only things left on the list are the touch-ups, the final furnishings, and of course marketing and advertising.”
“It’s certainly good timing I’m here, then. We’ve got some space issues we need to discuss, since we’re in the process of relaunching Dunford. We have to remedy the parking situation, and maybe even change the lines where Paraiso’s boundary begins. I was thinking we could build a gazebo for the winery. A picnic area.”
Surprise courses through me. Levi is forward. Aggressive. And specific. I glance sideways at Mitchell, who’s showing the taxi driver his own mapped directions on his phone. Does he hear this? I will for him to turn and put his brother in his place—this conversation is inappropriate and ill-timed. My feelings for Mitchell, my promise to trust him, are holding my tongue in place.
At my silence, Levi plows through my thoughts. “Surely my brother discussed some of the plans I drew up? Just suggestions, and a starting point if you will, though I’m very open to negotiations.”
“Oh, uh, yes,” I say airily, though my stomach falls. Because he’s right. I should have been in discussions with the Dunfords well before now. Mitchell should have already involved me.
Behind me, Vic, Ellie, and Joel chat, oblivious to the change in my vibe.
“Good, well, glad to be able to sort this out before I go.”
“Right.” Like prey anticipating the sound of a hunter’s footsteps, I slink away from the conversation, for now. I don’t exhale until the car drives up to the front door of the brewery. When we disembark, I make my decision. I’m not waiting to be railroaded. Not if I can help it.