6. Philip
Philip
Summer arrived overnight. The thick clouds that had been lingering now gone, replaced with a clear blue sky. I’m sure that in a few weeks, I’ll be cursing the oppressive heat, but for today, I’m going to bask in the warmth like a lizard. The constant chill in my bones from the damp weather bakes away as sunshine streams in through the car window.
Ophie turns off to the left rather than following the gravel driveway up to the winery’s main parking lot. Instead, we park beside a trio of cottages, next to Maggie’s sedan. I climb out of the car, following Ophie to the closest of the three. The flowers at the doorstep look brand new, the pot too clean to have been sitting there long.
“Maggie?” Ophie calls through the door when no one answers her knock. “They must be up at the tasting room.”
The sound of raised voices drifts back to us as we stroll up the path to the main building. The cottages sit below and to the east of the tasting room, rows of grape vines extending across the south-facing side of the hill beside them.
As we reach the top of the path leading from the cottages to the main buildings, Kel and another man block our way, arguing in low voices.
“You can’t be in the tasting room, Nate.” Kel runs his fingers through his dark-blond hair in an agitated way.
“Yeah, well, I don’t exactly want to be there, but we don’t have another option today, do we?” the dark-haired man—who must be Nate—replies, rolling his eyes. “Maggie is sick, and you have Olive this weekend. My mom needs to take Dad to physical therapy. It’ll be fine.”
Kel blows out hard, turning his head and catching sight of us. His fingers rub circles on his temples in the same way I’ve seen my dad do when he’s trying to figure out how he wants to lecture me this time. “Hey, Ophie. Okay, fine. You run the tasting room today, but please, for the love of god, don’t yell at any customers. And when the Suttons show up, be nice .”
Nate stalks off without acknowledging our presence, grumbling under his breath. Ophie slips her arm around my waist and squeezes. I squeeze her back before extending my hand out to Kel.
“Hey, guys, good to see you. Everything alright?”
We shake hands, but Kel’s eyes keep darting over my shoulder down the path we just walked up.
Ophie steps away from me to give him a hug. “We’re good. Just needed to get out of the house and get some sunshine. Is Maggie okay?”
“She wasn’t feeling well this morning. Could have been something she had at dinner, or it might just be morning sickness. She was up all night and only fell asleep an hour ago.” Kel is clearly distracted, his answers slow and punctuated by pauses as he listens for something. He freezes, then pushes past me. “Sorry, I think I hear Olive. I’ll let Maggie know you’re up at the tasting room when she wakes up.”
We watch him sprint down the path in silence. “Do you want to go check on your sister?” I finally ask when she doesn’t move.
She shakes herself, then looks up at me, concern in her brown eyes. “No, I’m sure she’s fine—Kel will take care of her. I’ll text her in a bit.”
Taking her hand, I lead her toward the main building. I’ve only been here once before, but I remember there being a small door on this side of the building. We step through right as another couple enters through the main door.
They look around, taking in the room. The girl smiles when she sees the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the rows of vines while her date peers at the chalkboard that lists all the wines available.
I wander over to a small table nestled against the window, dragging Ophie with me as the couple makes their way over to Nate, who’s cleaning wine glasses with a soft white rag. The men tip their chins at each other in the universal man language of acknowledgment before Nate leans against the bar that takes up the short end of the rectangular space.
The wooden bar matches the log-cabin feel of the interior—exposed beams grace the high barn ceilings, matching the color of the real-wood floors. The timber walls are a far cry from the plaster used in the Cape Dutch-style wineries I’m used to from home, but it has a woodsy sort of appeal.
I still think a dark thatched roof against a white wall looks better, but I can imagine that might not be the most practical in a place where the air is constantly wet from November to May.
After hearing Kel’s admonishments, I’m curious how Nate acts with customers. I lean forward and drop my voice to ask, “What do you think? Is Nate going to be rude to them?”
Ophie leans in to match me, her hair swinging forward and sending the scent of her floral shampoo cascading toward me. “He won’t be rude. He may not own the winery anymore, but he still considers it his legacy. It’ll be fine.”
I glance back at the long bar right as his mouth pulls down in a frown, impatience written in the twitch of his shoulders as the couple stares at the signage behind him.
“I bet you dinner that he’s about to make an ass of himself.”
“Loser also has to do the dishes?” Mischief twinkles in her gorgeous brown eyes.
I nod. “Dinner, dishes, and dessert.”
My mind flashes to the idea of having Ophie for dessert before I push it away. The last thing I want is to say something that might drive the only stable thing in my life away. Just because I’ve found her attractive since the day we met, and she’s technically my wife, doesn’t give me the right to fantasize about her like that.
Not when I don’t think she feels the same way about me.
“Welcome to Sunshine Cellars, folks. What can I get for you?” Nate says the right words, even if his tone isn’t exactly friendly. It reminds me of the boys in my standard five class reciting the poems our teacher insisted we learn—they never could do it with feeling.
“Hi. We’ve never been here before. What do you recommend?” the woman answers. “Our friends were raving about this place, but I don’t remember what wine they had.”
Nate gives them a pained smile, and I fight back a snort. We have nothing to drink yet, or I would hide it behind my glass. Instead, Ophie raises an eyebrow at me, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“Would you like to start with a flight, then? Today’s flight is…” He looks over his shoulder at the board, silent as he studies it. The couple waits without asking, also reading the board behind him. The guy gives his date a meaningful look as Nate struggles to find the information. “Apologies, I’m usually out in the field, not in the tasting room.”
Ophie’s amusement turns sympathetic as Nate continues with his wooden speech. “Oh my god, this is painful.” She shakes her head and sits back while we watch him. After a moment, she waves her hand in that direction. “You would be really good at that. What was that thing your mom said?” Tipping her head, she scrunches her eyebrows. “Right. You could charm the pants off a priest.”
We both laugh at that, drawing the attention of the couple and Nate. Our laughter subsides, and Ophie shrinks in apology when Nate glares at her. I raise an eyebrow in his direction when he makes eye contact, and he quickly looks back at the couple and starts his speech again about the chablis-style chardonnay he’s pouring.
He can be an asshole to anyone he wants except Ophelia.
We enjoy the entertainment of Nate struggling to stay friendly as he pours the couple’s wine. I’ve been to wineries where they pour them all out at once, but Nate is pouring them a single glass. I assume he’ll bring them each new wine as they finish.
It’s a great tactic for increasing customer engagement, and I can see how it would be successful with the right person behind the bar, but the constant need to make small talk with the customers quickly reveals that this is not Nate’s forte.
Chatting with customers as I pour wine for them? Sounds like a great gig to me.
Eventually, they take their glasses and wander off to one of the other tables. Ophie’s staring out the window, her chin resting in her hand. “You want a glass? Or a flight?” I ask as I push to my feet.
“Hmm? Oh, just a glass, please. Can I have the off-dry riesling?”
“Sure thing.” I drop a kiss to the top of her head, her flicker of a smile at the action sparking warmth in my chest.
Seeing the sweat breaking out on Nate’s temples, I contemplate taking it easy on him and just ordering our glasses without making him small-talk. But what’s the fun in that?
“I saw you two come from the cottages,” Nate grunts as I approach, leaning down to tuck the open bottle in his hand beneath the bar. “Did you get lost?”
Any notion that I was going to take the high road disappears with his first sentence.
“We were in the area.”
Nate’s head snaps up at my words, suspicion written all over his face. The pair of wine glasses he’d pulled out rattle as he sets them down on the counter. “Camping? You were camping on the vineyard? This is private property.”
“I didn’t say we were camping on the vineyard.” This is going to be more fun than I thought. He’s so easy to rile up. Internally, my hands are rubbing together in glee.
A deep furrow creases his forehead, and Nate drops his voice low as he leans forward, his pouring forgotten. “Where were you camping?”
“We slept nearby.”
This is too easy .
“What the fuck does that mean, nearby? You look a little too clean to be homeless. What are you, fucking hippies?” Nate’s face is bright red, and his tone edges louder. “This isn’t England. You can’t walk through people’s property here.”
“Not from England, mate.” I enunciate a smidge more than usual just to make it harder for him to place my accent. Although I am impressed he knows anything about right-to-roam. If this asshole wants to accuse Ophie and me of being vagrants, I’ll let him go ahead and dig his own grave. I don’t blame him for not recognizing me, but surely he’s met Ophie before?
Nate opens his mouth to answer, but then the tasting room door opens, and four women walk in. Immediately, his shoulders go rigid, his jaw clenches, and his eyes roll so hard I think they might flip backward in his eye sockets. Apparently, what I thought was him worked up was just a warm-up.
“Jackie!” A statuesque brunette barrels through the doors. Hot on her heels is a short and curvy blond with the biggest smile on her face. But it drops as she takes in who’s behind the bar top. “Oh. Hello, Nathaniel.”
“Great,” Nate mutters under his breath, quietly enough that nobody can hear except me.
The women stop in the doorway, deep in discussion. Tearing my eyes away from the drama, I look back over my shoulder at Ophie. She’s staring at the scene as well, eyes ping-ponging from Nate to the women.
I turn back as I ask, “Regulars?”
“Just his favorite customers.”
I jerk back, sending the tallish young woman who appeared at my side into a fit of giggles. Her long blond hair is curled and hangs over her shoulders, swinging as she moves.
Nate rolls his eyes again. “Hello, Emma. You know I can’t serve you.”
She rolls her eyes right back and leans an elbow on the bar. Her movement reveals an extraordinarily short woman peering out from behind her, her vivid orange hair a sharp contrast to the timid way she looks around the room.
“I wasn’t asking you to serve me, was I? Mom has some stuff in the car she needs help bringing in.”
The back-and-forth between them is interesting, albeit frustrating since I still haven’t been able to get a glass of wine for myself or Ophie.
Nate grunts. “I’m working the bar today. Maggie is sick, and Kel has Olive. Tell your mom to text him to come help. I can’t leave here.” He jerks a thumb in my direction, and I bristle.
The young girl, Emma, pauses to look me up and down. She’s very pretty, in that fresh-faced, college freshman kind of way. Her head tips to the side, lips pursed. “I know you from somewhere.”
The declaration takes me by surprise. “Huh?” I shake my head and back up a few steps. “I think you must have me mistaken for someone else. Lots of brown-haired, chiseled types around here.”
She snaps her fingers, pointing at my chest. “That accent. You TA’ed for Econ 101, right? My friend was in that class, and I heard you talking to her once. I remember because I thought your accent was super sexy.”
“Emma!”
“That’s my girl!”
I’d been so focused on our conversation that I’d missed the other two women coming over to the bar. The blond one, obviously the girl’s mother, looks like she can’t decide between smacking her daughter or hiding in embarrassment. The tall one, who had not been excited to see Nate, is glowing with pride, reaching across the space between us to high-five Emma.
A hand on my shoulder has me whirling, Ophie’s laughing face appearing behind me.
Oh my god, I’m surrounded. The five women are all laughing while Nate and I share a look. I still don’t like him—his customer service skills are shit—but there’s a moment of universal bro-solidarity between us as they laugh at my expense.
“You win. Also, your cheeks are so red,” Ophie whispers in my ear, squeezing my shoulder before coming to stand beside me. I want to pull her into my side and hide my flaming face in the crook of her neck, but I don’t dare. Not if this girl knows one of my former students.
That way rumors lie.
But fuck yeah, I won the bet.
“Emma, that was so inappropriate.” The shorter woman shakes her head. “I raised you better than that.”
Emma and the taller woman burst out in peals of laughter. “No you didn’t, Sophie. And even if you did, I didn’t.” The tall woman looks back over her shoulder at the orange-haired one. “Frankie thought it was hilarious too. Didn’t you?”
She steps around Emma to squeeze between her and the tall one. “Highly inappropriate, but hilarious.” She flips her hand out for a subtle low-five with Emma.
The one called Sophie clears her throat loudly, glaring at the other three, who instantly subside. It’s my turn to stifle a chuckle as they fall in line, cowed by the maternal vibes emanating from Sophie.
She waits until they’re calm before looking away. My god, she’s impressive. “Nate, the guys are all out in the parking lot with stuff for tomorrow. I’ll man the bar if you could go give them a hand?”
With a sigh that must come from deep in his soul, Nate rounds the front of the counter. “They are doing a flight and need the rosé next.” He points to the couple who have wandered outside and are leaning on the porch railing, oblivious to the commotion going on inside.
He jerks his thumb at me, the scowl back. “They haven’t ordered yet. Came through the back door.”
I don’t know what he’s implying by that, but he’s gone without another word. Sophie takes his place and beams at us.
I’m about to ask what’s going on when Ophie steps in front of me, holding out her hand. “Hi, Sophie. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Maggie’s sister, Ophelia.”
Understanding crosses Sophie’s and the tall woman’s faces. “Oh, yes, I remember now. How are you? Do you remember Lauren?” She points to the tall woman, who nods. “That’s Frankie, a dear friend who works at Mailbox with my husband, and my hooligan of a daughter, Emma.”
Ophie greets everyone, then reaches back to pull me closer. “This is my friend, Philip. We parked down by Maggie and Kel’s, but since Maggie is napping, we figured we’d come up here and have a glass while we enjoy the view.”
Sophie fusses over us, pouring us each a glass of riesling and insisting it’s on the house, while I remind myself that I should not be irritated at being introduced as just a friend. This woman obviously knows Maggie, and I promised Ophie her family would never find out about Vegas.
Sophie pours out glasses for Lauren, Frankie, and herself before pulling a can of sparkling seltzer out of a fridge and handing it to Emma.
“Mom, come on,” Emma whines, but Sophie just shakes her head.
“You’re not twenty-one until next month.”
“But—”
“Gotta follow the rules in public, munchkin,” Lauren interrupts before Sophie can speak. She swirls her glass expertly and dips her nose inside the bulb for a long sniff. “Mmm, smells delicious, though. As always.”
Ophie sways into me, her shoulders shaking from suppressed giggles. My arm instinctively wraps around her waist, pulling her against me. The second my fingers graze her waist, she stiffens, her giggles dissipating.
I let go and step away, a flash of irritation spiking through me. Thankfully, none of the other women seem to notice the way Ophie reacts to me.
My attention is drawn back to them just as Emma rolls her eyes and hip checks Lauren before grabbing Frankie’s hand and pulling her toward the window.
Sophie blows out a long breath before deadpanning, “I can’t believe you never wanted kids, Lauren. They’re such a joy.”
“Yours is enough for both of us.” Laughing, she clinks her glass to Sophie’s. “Do you think the boys need supervision?”
Sophie tips her head in thought. “If Maggie’s not there to do it, then yes. Make sure they don’t try to do any of the actual decorating. Especially Alfie.”
Lauren salutes her and takes off with a small wave.
“What’s happening tomorrow?” Ophie asks, sliding onto the stool in front of me. Instead of taking the other one, I lean my elbows on the back of hers, pushing away my uncharitable feelings and determined to act like I always do. If only I could remember how that was.
“Oh, Nate convinced Teddy to restart the wine club. When he bought Sunshine Cellars, Teddy didn’t want people joining it just because of him, so he dropped it. But without the wine club members, we have just enough surplus bottles every year that storage is going to be an issue soon.”
Sophie pauses to take a sip from her glass, a soft smile on her lips as she swallows. Leaning back on her stool, Ophie presses her shoulder against my forearm, the movement wafting the scent of her shampoo toward me. I catch myself before my eyes can fully close as I inhale. Do I smell her like that all the time? How have I never noticed it before?
“We all love a good glass of wine, but there’s no way we can drink enough to keep up. Kel has done such a good job of taking care of the vines that Greg is producing better and better wine all the time. We have to sell more unless we want to be drowning in bottles.” Sophie laughs to herself.
“Maggie mentioned she was doing an event here tomorrow, but I hadn’t connected that it was actually for Sunshine.” Ophie stretches her neck to one side and then the other, the brief glimpse of her long neck teasing me from where I stand behind her. “I assumed it was another shower of some kind.”
For a second, I imagine tasting her skin, feeling the softness of it against my lips. With a sharp breath that borders on a snort, I straighten up, pushing the thought away. As I look up, I catch Sophie watching me, an intrigued look on her face.
Dammit. It’s been two years since Ophie and I met, and two years since I’ve had fantasies about her. But ever since Vegas, my mind has been wandering to all kinds of places it shouldn’t, and I can’t seem to remember how to act normally around her anymore. I need to get it together.
Sophie clears her throat and takes another sip of her wine. “We reached out to the old members to see if they were still interested in the club. A few dozen were, so we’re having a relaunch event tomorrow.”
The main doors open, and more customers wander in. Sophie greets them with a smile, exactly the opposite of Nate, and Ophie and I excuse ourselves and move back to our table.
“So.” Ophie drawls out the word after taking a generous sip of her wine. “What am I cooking for dinner? And what’s for dessert?”
She peers over the edge of her glass, waggling her eyebrows and making me laugh.
“I will eat anything you dish up.” We clink glasses before taking another sip. If only she knew how true that was.