Turning Up the Heat: A Sizzling Modern Romance Novel

6. Kelsey

Driving north on the 101,I specifically did not think about Chef Oskar Olson. I did not think about supremely hot kitchen sex. I also did not think about his mouth or his hands or… anything else. Nope. Because if you aren’t even allowed to talk on your damn telephone while you’re driving, you sure as hell better not think about Oskar Olson.

Because that could cause accidents.

I blew through Pismo at lightning speed, packing my bags and ducking out before Talia could give me the third degree. I kissed her cheek and told her I would call her from home. If I started dissecting everything that had happened this weekend… Wine would become involved, and I wouldn’t get home for a week.

I headed north to Paso Robles, and before I knew it, I was pulling into Whispering Oak and parking behind the tasting room. I’d wanted to grab a case of wine at the party and forgot.

Can’t imagine why.

I decided to be a nice sister and say goodbye to Josh in person. We hadn’t had much time to talk this weekend, and it wasn’t easy to get him on the phone when it was harvesttime.

I wandered into the main building and looked around. Dawn, who ran the tasting room, was on the phone, but she pointed back toward the house. I guessed Josh was having a late lunch at home.

As I wandered back to the old ranch house, I noticed some of the ongoing improvements he’d made to the place. The porch was finished, but it looked like he had started an addition above the garage. Josh almost always had company, whether it was female, work friends, or a random person he found interesting and asked to stay.

So despite being a single guy, he liked having space.

He’d bought the land and the house adjacent to our family’s old ranch in his early twenties and had spent the past seven years turning parts of the old ranch and the new acreage into a working vineyard. His foreman, Sergio, lived in our grandparents’ old house and kept the place up as well as taking care of the small herd of cattle that Josh and he still kept on the surrounding hills.

In addition to the tasting room, which was new, and the two homes, there was a small bunkhouse left over from when the ranch was bigger and required more cowboys. Now it needed a lot of repairs, and Josh talked about making it into a guest cottage or something. The whole place was an ongoing project that never seemed to be finished, but that was part of what my brother loved about it.

Josh had starting out selling the grapes he grew to other larger wineries at first and then finally started bottling his own in the past couple of years. He still sold a lot of fruit to other wineries, and that certainly helped to pay the bills. Despite my brother’s devil-may-care exterior, he had proven himself to be a hell of a grower and businessman. And that was saying a lot.

Because he was so busy, we didn’t see each other all that much.

“Hey, Josh?” I called from the porch. “You better not have company—it’s your pesky little sister.”

I heard him yell back from the office in the front of the house. “Grab a drink and come look at these numbers.”

I went into his refrigerator and pulled out a Coke. He’d taped a picture of me and him to the fridge from a visit he’d made to the city last year. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Wineglasses, jelly jars, and mismatched tumblers mingled on Josh’s shelves. Organized, he was not.

Johnny Cash was on the record player as I walked toward Josh’s office. I remembered my dad playing this same record when we were kids. It was one of his favorites.

Josh stood up quickly and kissed my cheek when I walked in. I grabbed a seat on the small cluttered sofa, and he sat back down at his desk. His computer was on, and the printer was spitting out what looked like spreadsheets.

“How’s your weekend? Heading back already?”

I shrugged and sipped my Coke. I didn’t feel like talking about it with him, so I asked, “What’re you up to? You picking anything today?”

He grabbed a bunch of sheets that were already lying on his desk. “I’m pretty close to picking my pinot. A couple more days of this warm weather and the sugar’s gonna be right where I want it. I’m gonna wait a little bit on my grenache though.” He looked up. “I just emailed a bunch of these readings over to Oskar yesterday. You ate at the restaurant last night, right? Did he mention getting them?”

I tried not to choke on my Coke.

Nope. I’m pretty sure my naked, heaving breasts were too much of a distraction last night. And this morning.

I cleared my throat. “He didn’t. But he was pretty busy with dinner service, and we were talking food. Besides, he might not know how much I know about the winery and stuff.”

Josh had a small, slightly wary smile on his face. His eyebrow was cocked, and he just looked at me silently.

“What?”

“Oh, nothin’. Just that your face looks a lot like a tomato right now. Good color on you.”

“Shut it, Josh.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I’ll get it out of Talia the next time she and Kurt come over for dinner. Come to think of it, I’m meeting Oskar for lunch tomorrow. I’ll just ask him about your friendly dinner then.”

I rolled my eyes. “You people gang up on me when I’m not here, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “So move back if it bugs you.”

“Not you too.”

“Whatever, Kels.” He snapped a manila folder shut. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do. But don’t complain about the shit you miss when you’re not here.”

I knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but it stung. I kept drinking my Coke and looking out the window. The wind was blowing, and the silver bird tape on the vines glittered in the sun. I could see black cattle roaming along the hills behind the vineyard, and the oaks dotted the now-golden slopes.

“So you and Chef Olson got along, huh?”

“He seems nice.” I really did not want to get into any dirty details with my big brother, and honestly, I had no idea how he would react to the idea of Oskar and me together. If we were together. Which we weren’t.

Shit, this was confusing.

Josh leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head. “You know, he tries to act all cool about it, but he’s asked about you for months.”

Now my eyes popped. “What do you mean, he’s asked about me?”

“Nothing weird or anything. It would probably be hard not to, considering he hangs out with so many of the same people that you know. Not that he’s supersocial or anything. It just seems like he pays attention when he hears your name is all.”

My mouth must have been catching flies, so I took another long drink of Coke.

Josh laughed out loud. “Oh, come on, Kelsey. I’m just teasing. If he makes you uncomfortable, you’ll only see him on the rare occasions you make it down for a visit. That was what? Twice in the past year? Course, now that you dumped that boring asshole, maybe you’ll come down more.”

Josh had not liked my ex-boyfriend Austin. At all. He’d admitted he had no actual reason to dislike him, he just said Austin was boring and had bad taste in wine. He was right on both counts, which was why I wasn’t seeing Austin anymore. Not the wine part so much, but the mind-numbing boredom was too much to endure.

Maybe the wine part a little.

“Oskar seems like a good guy.” I tried to leave the conversation on an even keel. “He’s talented. His food is amazing. I’m glad you guys are working together; I’m sure it’s going to be great.”

“Uh-huh.” Josh had a knowing look on his face.

He was such a little shit sometimes.

“That’s all right,” he said. “You don’t have to confide in your only brother if you don’t want. I’ll just weasel it out of Talia the next time she gets drunk.”

I snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

He frowned, clearly confused. “We could sit and shoot the shit for hours, but I gotta get back to work and you probably need to hit the road. You want some wine? I’ve got some Syrah that’s almost past its prime and needs to get opened pretty quick. Want a case of it? You just need to drink it in the next couple of months.”

“Twist my arm. What do I owe you for it?”

He waved me off. “Nah… I can’t really sell it at this point, so just take it and drink it. I’ll take it out in trade the next time I need an article written for the club letter.”

“Fair enough.”

We walked outside into the warm afternoon, and he squinted into the sun and looked over the fields. I went to my car and opened the trunk while he grabbed the case out of the old barn he used for storage. He walked back, put the wine in my car, and closed the lid.

Grabbing me in a tight hug, Josh kissed my forehead and leaned down. “Don’t be a stranger, all right? Come back soon.”

“I love you, Josh.”

“Love you too. Call me on the landline when you get home. I’ll be here tonight and there’s no reception.” He stepped back and waved as I drove off, my tires kicking up a little gravel as I headed down the hill.

Once I was back on the highway, I put on my driving playlist and settled back in my seat. I was finally headed home.

Only why didn’t it feel that way?

I rolled through Salinas’s vegetable fields and sped through Gilroy’s garlicky air before I reached the South Bay. I did not think about Oskar Olson.

I got stuck in traffic on San Francisco’s surly surface streets. I drove past the Presidio and crossed the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County, headed toward my tiny house. Luckily, I absolutely did not think about Oskar Olson.

As I pulled into the drive, I heaved a sigh of relief and grabbed my bag before I lost all my energy. The wine could wait until tomorrow. I tucked my mail under my arm and tumbled through the crooked front door, exhausted and ready for bed. I quickly got undressed and slipped between the sheets, taking my phone with me to check my messages.

I took a deep breath. Then, and only then, did I allow myself to think about Oskar Olson. I noticed a short text that had been sent from his phone an hour or so ago.

Make it home safe?

I smiled at the thoughtful gesture and texted him back.

Safe and sound. Thanks.

I felt like that was sort of abrupt, but I didn’t want to start rambling by text too. I decided a short follow-up wouldn’t be too obnoxious.

No omelets at my house. :(

After a few moments, I got a text back.

My sheets smell like you. Good night.

I smiled. Then I frowned. Then I sniffed my armpit and realized I didn’t apply deodorant that morning. Hopefully the sheet smell wasn’t a complaint.