It’s day fourteen.
Her last day here.
Ominous clouds have settled in over northern Georgia, and bleakness across the hills and the vineyard perfectly match how I feel inside. We are meeting with Kelly for the final interview, and after this, the assignment is over. She’s going to leave. Hell, if it weren’t for this, she would have left already.
Behind me, people are moving about the library, staging it for the photos and video coverage, but I don’t have it in me to oversee anything. Kyle took one look at me this morning and winced. I didn’t sleep last night, combine that with a tenacious migraine and a bruised heart, and I know I’ve looked better. He patted me on the back and said he’d take care of everything, so I let him. For the last half hour, I haven’t moved from this window.
I think it’s safe to say that yesterday Shelby handed me my ass on a silver platter before she kicked me out the door. But then again, if you talked to her, she would probably say silver is too nice for me and I belong in a cast iron skillet—one where she’s frying something.
I never meant for things to get as off course the way they did. I should have told Michelle and Kyle that the plan was off the table. They both had to have known that something was happening between Shelby and me, knew my feelings went deeper than business. Did I spell it out for them? No. I figured they would have put it together and figured the plan—that stupid, stupid plan—was done. Busted.
She bewitched me, and she managed to work herself into every part of my life. It’s as if her just being here made this place cozier, happier. Of course, she’s still a she-devil, but I love her sassy mouth and that she’s never backed down to me. She’s savvy and full of fire. She gives as good and she gets, and no one gets in her way . . . except for me, that is.
The way her body folded into itself when I told her I hated critics, well, I’m a jackass. The equivalent would be her saying she hated my wines, and that would have broken my heart. I tried to defend my rationale, but I only made it worse. That guy, the guy I was for most of the last two weeks, that is not me, and now I have to deal with the consequences.
I’ve lost her.
I am paralyzed by disgust with myself.
Looking down at my watch, I see it’s noon and turn to watch the door. Shelby walks in, right on time. She isn’t a minute early or late, and she looks stunning. Everyone turns to look at her, but she ignores us all as she moves across the room to sit in her original chair on my right.
Her hair is twisted into a knot, exposing the long lines of her neck, and her lips are shiny and pink, but her eyes are dark and her usual glow is dull. She’s wearing pearls, a long-sleeved black dress, and gold heels. My eyes are drawn to her legs, and my body tightens as I remember the feel of them being tangled around mine. Warm, smooth, and soft, they were mine, and now they aren’t.
Michelle walks over to her and asks if she would like something to drink, but Shelby frowns, shakes her head, and crosses her legs.
Her spark is gone today. The fire that she usually has blazing in her path has been extinguished, and it’s all my fault.
“All right everyone, let’s do this!” Kelly calls out. As we move to our seats, she leans into my personal space and bats her eyelashes. “You look nice today, by the way.”
I can feel Shelby’s eyes on us, on me, and my hands clench into fists. Keeping it professional, I nod my head and give her a forced, closed-lipped smile before turning and finding my seat.
I shift closer to Shelby and turn to look at her. Her eyes find mine and neurons fire all over my body. This girl affects me like no other ever has, and she’s closed herself off with an impenetrable wall. She gazes at me as if I’m a stranger, and she’s completely indifferent. It wrecks me to see how much I’ve damaged what we had.
Her beautiful deep blue eyes trail over me once and then turn away.
Kelly straightens the list of questions on her lap, clears her throat, and signals to the camera guy. He hits the button, and it begins.
“So, we meet again.” Kelly smiles brightly at me. She has this thick ugly red lipstick on, and some of it is on her teeth. I should tell her, but she’d read into the comment that I’m looking at her mouth, and I can’t deal with her today. I quickly return her greeting and cut my eyes back to Shelby, who smiles out of courtesy and politeness to both of us. I wish her smile were real, but it never reaches her eyes.
I am such an asshole.
“I have to say, Zach, my brief memory of your winery didn’t do it justice. It’s even more exquisite here today than it was two weeks ago.”
I would have to agree with her, it is more exquisite here today, but that’s because of the beautiful girl sitting next to me. She lit this place up in a way that it hasn’t been for a long time.
“Thank you, I appreciate that.” My voice is thick with emotion.
Turning her attention to Shelby, she pastes on an even bigger, now fake smile. “So, Shelby, tell me, how has it been for you? Two weeks is a long time to be away from home.”
“Two weeks is quite a stretch, but I very much enjoyed being here.” She relaxes deeper into her seat. “Like you said, it’s exquisite, so I soaked up every moment, every taste, and the time flew by.”
Hearing her words, they’re like arrows straight to my chest.
“What was your favorite part about being here?” Kelly leans forward as if she’s hoping to be let in on a secret. Her eyes dance back and forth between me and Shelby, and I know she’s watching both of us and hoping for a reaction.
“My favorite part of being here is just that, being here. Zach and his staff took me right in and made me feel at home. Almost immediately, I felt like I was one of them, that I belonged, and that’s a great feeling . . . one memory I’ll take with me when I leave.”
My heart plummets into my stomach. I want her to feel like she belongs, she does belong, but I’m certain after yesterday, she feels anything but. To be forced to stay here, play this charade being surrounded by people who you think were out to deceive you, must be awful for her. And it suddenly occurs to me that this interview could have gone in an entirely different direction. But knowing Shelby, who’s always full of grace and class, she would never outright try to sabotage someone.
Just like the posts on her blog.
Damn. Now, I feel even worse when I didn’t think that was possible.
A groan escapes me, and both of them turn to look at me. I close my eyes and rub the back of my neck.
“That sounds lovely,” Kelly says with a hint of jealousy and curiosity in her tone.
Shelby smiles, and I hear the click of a camera behind us.
“What did you think of the wines? The last time I was here, I missed out on the tour, maybe I can sneak in a few tastes this time.” She glances at me with a sly smile, and my skin crawls. How does this woman have a job? I can’t be the only one who sees how lurid her remarks are.
“I loved the wines,” Shelby replies, her irritation in this chick’s constant behavior evident. “The chardonnay reserve was the first wine I tasted, but the sauvignon blanc stuck as being my favorite; it’s delicious. To keep things fair though, we didn’t rush the tastings. We spread them out over the two. Full. Weeks. Turns out there wasn’t one that I didn’t like.” She smiles sweetly but tips her chin triumphantly.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. Shelby may have come into this interview wanting to get it over with, and to get away from me, but watching her spark flare because she refuses to be a doormat for anyone is amazing.
“Well, my, my. I’ll definitely have to sample that one,” Kelly says with a tempered gaze and a slight bewilderment.
“Michelle,” Shelby turns to find her by the door, “will you please grab Kelly a bottle of the reserve?”
“Of course.” Michelle smiles, playing along with Shelby. It seems Shelby is not the only here put off by this woman.
“Perfect!” Shelby slides around to face Kelly again. “She’ll have that ready for you when we’re done so you can take it home and drink it.” Shelby shifts and crosses her legs in the other direction, ignoring the tension that’s radiating from Kelly.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I chime in. Shelby’s eyes drift to mine, they’ve hardened, and although nothing is being said, she’s screaming a thousand profanities at me. She hates this interview, she hates having to be here, and she hates that I’m smiling at her. “I love the cabernet, so we’ll include a bottle of that as well.”
Her eyes narrow.
“How kind of you. I look forward to drinking every last drop.” Someone in the room clears their throat, which is enough to snap Kelly back into her role. “Zach, tell me, how did it feel to have her here following you around?”
“I wouldn’t say Ms. Leigh followed me around. She dove into the assignment with an incredible level of professionalism and worked tirelessly on what she was hired to do. I was present for the tour, two of the three tastings—the red and sparkling, and other than that, when given the opportunity, I would say I followed her around, waiting for handouts of the next amazing food item she was creating down in the cottage. She’s very talented.”
Kyle murmurs in agreement from his spot in the room, and Kelly glances at him in annoyance.
“So, how did the pairings go?” she asks, tilting her head to the side, pushing the interview along.
“Deliciously well. Many of our patrons were able to taste the ideas Shelby created, and everyone had a hand in choosing their favorites. We’ve all agreed that her final selections are the perfect pairings for our wines.”
“Actually,” Shelby interjects before Kelly can jump in with the next question, “I brought one here today for you to taste. It didn’t seem fair that you got to listen to us talk about the food and not taste any.”
Michelle walks over and sets a tray down on the table between the three of us. On it are three bowls of peach cobbler, and the admiration I have for Shelby multiplies.
“You never cease to amaze me,” I say softly, leaning over and placing my hand on her knee. Goose bumps run down her leg, and her eyes flare at the contact. Heartache leaks out from behind her structured wall and damn near knocks the breath out me. I never meant to hurt her.
“Well, look at this! Doesn’t it look tasty and full of calories,” Kelly says snidely as she picks up the bowl and takes a tiny bite.
“Yes, since you were sweet as a peach the last time you were here, I thought this would be perfect. I did consider making the lighter version for you, but all true Southerners know fat equals flavor, and when it comes to cobbler, it’s all or nothing.” Shelby smiles.
Kelly chokes on a half laugh, half shock, and I reach for my bowl to hide my pleasure at the dig. Never a dull moment with the she-devil.
The cobbler melts on my tongue, and I moan in satisfaction. “Shelby, this is delicious, and unexpected. Thank you.” I give her a small smile, but she doesn’t return it. “Eat up, Kelly. We don’t let good food go to waste around here.”
She takes a few more bites, each one less modest than the last.
“Speaking of unexpected, did you uncover any surprises during your stay?” she asks Shelby before setting her bowl down.
“Yes, actually I did.” Her eyes sail over me quickly and then fall back to Kelly. “As you may know, my best friend and I own a restaurant back in Charleston called OBA—short for Orange Blossom Avenue. At the restaurant, we have a wall of honey. We love honey, all kinds of honey, and I was surprised to learn that Zach is a beekeeper, too. At the bottom of the hill, the bees are working hard to make the most heavenly lavender honey. It’s delicious.”
“Honey. Wow, Zach, don’t you worry about getting stung?” Kelly picks the bowl back up and takes another bite. I wonder if she realizes she’s eating it all. The cobbler is addictive.
“No, we have suits for that. Technically, the bees are my mother’s, she loves them.” I cut my eyes to Shelby, at least she has the decency to look a little remorseful. She knows the honey is private. “Although, we don’t sell the honey, if you look around, you’ll see she’s subtly used the honey bee as a symbol here at Wolff Winery. The honey bee spends its entire life making the honey, and it never stops to enjoy the sweetness of what it’s made. When we see one she wants us to remember that not everything is about work, which we all have a tendency to do, that sometimes we need to slow down and enjoy the sweetness of life.”
Silence.
I peer over at Shelby. Her eyes are on me, and even though her face is blank and calm like she’s taken on a bit of an introspective look, I can see they’ve thawed just a little. I’m not surprised that my mother’s words might have meant something to her, nor am I surprised that I’m touched by this.
“How . . . sweet.” Kelly loudly puts her bowl down and drops the fork so it bounces and bangs against the edge, breaking mine and Shelby’s gaze. There’s movement from the people behind us, but Kelly’s petulance has me seething.
“I think so.” The tone in my voice alerts her to my irritation. Her face blanches, as I scowl at her and she leans back in her seat.
“Well, from the sounds of it, you two knocked this assignment out of the park.”
“That’s baseball,” Shelby states flatly.
“Excuse me?” Kelly flips her hair off her shoulder.
“He played football,” she responds.
“Yes, I know.”
Shelby looks at me and shakes her head. I think we’ve all officially had enough of this interview.
“Well, Kelly, thank you for coming.” Shelby and I both stand with Kelly shuffling to follow. “We appreciate you making the trip back down here and look forward to seeing the interview online.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, attempting to ward off a handshake, and step closer to Shelby. She’s the only person in this room I want touching me, and based on the look she’s giving me, I think she’d rather cut her hands off.
“It was my pleasure, honestly.” Kelly adjusts her top so more of her cleavage is exposed and winks at me.
I’m officially uncomfortable, and my face glowers.
“Honesty sure is an underrated quality these days,” Shelby says as she glances at me soberly. Without giving me time to respond, she turns, holds her head high, and heads for the door.
“Excuse me,” I mumble to Kelly and follow before she has enough time to get in her car and drive away.
Humidity hits me as I run through the front door and catch up to her on the landing at the top of the steps.
“Shelby, please wait,” I beg, reaching for her arm and pulling. I’m trying my hardest to stay calm, but all I want is to jerk her into my arms and to hold on to her for as long as I can.
Pausing, she keeps her back to me, and drops her head.
“Why, Zach? The project is over. That horrible interview is over, we are over, and I just want to go home.”
Running my free hand through my hair, I look around at anything and everything, praying for something to pop in my head that will make her stay.
“But I don’t want you to leave, not like this . . .” And that’s when she turns around, and that’s when I see it.
The end.
Her eyes are flat, her face is devoid of any emotion, and the only tiny tell that she’s giving me to show she isn’t completely indifferent is that she’s chewing on the inside of her lip.
“Look, I don’t know what more you want from me, but I’m done.” Her eyes bounce back and forth between mine, and she lets out a slow defeated sigh. “You. Win. Isn’t that what this is all about anyway? Winning. Well, guess what . . . you won. Game’s over.”
A chill sets in, and I’m numbed by the realization that she truly thinks all my actions—every touch and every word whispered to her over the last week were insincere. She believes that I was using her the entire time.
Yes, I wanted the blog post. I should have just asked her for it instead of playing games. And instead of asking her to write one, which she would have because she cares, I continued to let her believe she was doing something nice for us. But that isn’t why I kissed her or made love to her.
Suddenly, one of the things I’ve always said I value most in people, I now have to question about myself—character.
“Shelby—” I try to speak, but my throat’s constricting with guilt, and then I feel a pinch and a burning sting in my neck. “Shit.” My free hand slaps at the spot, pushing away the bee that stung me. Shelby and I both watch as it falls to the ground. Neither of us move, and neither of us says anything.
How ironic that I get stung by a bee at this exact moment. Between my mother’s symbolism, Shelby’s love of honey, her nickname . . . I’m at a loss. For two weeks these damn bees have been beloved, and as it all comes to an end, I get stung. Just perfect.
Looking up into my face, Shelby’s eyes are large as she takes in what just happened. Slowly blinking twice, she pulls her arm out of my grasp, and then backs away. Reaching the steps, she takes one long last look at me and the manor, turns, and walks away. The only sound I register being the clicking of her heels. Heels that I hated on her in the beginning and now love.