Chapter Twenty-Two
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It’s a long day in the tasting room, but I live for the busy season. Friends, townies, tourists of all types—from posh Atlanta gay couples to Georgia families that save up for their yearly trip to the mountains—Bluebell Vineyards is decked out with happy faces today. The sweet fizz of Electric Daisy and bubbling conversation, punctuated by the constant swing of our doors opening, has kept me so occupied, I’ve almost managed to forget the weird incident at the tailgate.
Almost.
I wish Laine would return and fill me in on this mysterious family meeting. On the heels of Everyday Bon Vivant ’s picking us to host the showcase, it makes me feel unsteady somehow, which is silly because while Rachel has zero qualms about fighting dirty, the rest of the Woods are above that. Plus, why would they loop Laine in if they were up to something unsavory? It makes no sense.
And yet, the weirdness bubbles in my stomach until closing when Laine’s strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, her nose nuzzling my ear. “Mmm,” she says into my hair. “Best boss ever.”
My eyes flutter closed as the wave of serotonin floods my system. “Laine,” I murmur back. She spins me around in her arms and presses kisses all over my face—the corner of my mouth, the hollow below my cheekbone, the tip of my nose.
“Are you angling for a raise or something?” I laugh as her kisses move down my sensitive neck, tickling me there. “Come on, tell me about the family meeting.”
She stops, chin tucked between my cleavage, to look up at me. “Now?”
“Please.”
Eyes still locked on mine, she licks beneath the rim of my low V-neck, giving me goose bumps all over, before extricating herself from my chest. A soft, contented smile settles on her face.
“My folks want to cut me into the family business officially. There’s money set aside that could fund something for me.”
My eyebrows rise. “Whoa. Rachel’s okay with that?”
“She was outvoted. It doesn’t matter if she likes it.” Laine brings my knuckles to her lips, the heat of her breath reaching deep inside me, tightening my nipples, dipping low into my belly. “I told them I’d think about it. That I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
I exhale shakily, my heart squeezing with such love , tears pop into the corners of my eyes. “You did?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Does this mean you’ll definitely stay in Blue Ridge after my dad comes back?” The idea of it flashes through me, the first glimpse of a long road ahead appearing through the trees.
“I … don’t know yet.” Laine kisses the palm of my hand, but it doesn’t hide the reluctance in her voice.
A kick of fear lands square in my heart. I pull my hand away.
“You still don’t think Blue Ridge is good enough, do you?”
You don’t think I’m good enough.
Laine pulls me into her arms. “Hey, no, Blue Ridge is amazing, you’ve shown me that. A cut of the family business means obligations I haven’t had up to now, that’s all. I don’t want to work at Into the Woods, I don’t want to work with Rachel at all , and I’m ready to make my own wine for once. It would all come down to whether I can find the right opportunity here to do that while still contributing to the family business somehow.” She runs the long, straight bridge of her nose against my jawline. “And if I don’t, well … we could always go somewhere else together.”
“Go somewhere else? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know.” Laine pulls back from my neck, her dark eyes hungry over her flushed cheeks. “I want to take you to Oregon. Or California. Show you all the places I love. Follow our ambition and opportunities and live happily ever after.” Her thumb parts my lips until she feels the wet there, then leans in and bites, pulling my bottom lip into her mouth and kissing me deeply. It’s hard to think while she’s lighting up my body like this, fear alternating with love and hope and shamefully, a burst of wild excitement at the idea of leaving Blue Ridge with Laine. Somewhere I wouldn’t be responsible for holding up the weight of my world alone. Where I could take a day off from time to time. Where I could just be .
But who would I be then? Without Bluebell Vineyards, Dad, and the singular purpose I’ve had ever since Mom passed away? The anxiety yawns open like a canyon, and just like that, I’m tumbling down its steep walls, scrabbling to stop my fall and hang on.
I break away so I can look at her, needing us both to hear me. “I can’t ever leave Blue Ridge, or my dad—it’d break his heart for good. You know that, right?”
She sighs, her eyes full of gentle understanding as she brushes my hair behind my ear. “All I know is that it doesn’t matter where we are, because I’m yours, Zoe.” She drops to her knees before me, sliding her palms over the curve of my hips as she goes. She’s still murmuring yours, yours, yours as she lifts my skirt, presses her mouth against my panties, and breathes. She stops to look up at me, eyes wide and flooded with desire.
“And you’ll always be my boss.”
I’m lying in the crook of Laine’s arm, half drowsing on the floor of our tasting room on a makeshift bed of linens, when a loud pounding from outside wakes me cold.
Is someone … knocking ?
It’s after midnight. We’ve been closed for hours. I hoist onto my elbow, listening, adrenaline spiking my blood. The pounding comes again, this time from farther away.
“Wake up.” I jostle Laine in the ribs. “Someone’s outside.”
She squints open an eye, then another, as the pounding grows louder. “Is that—from the winery?”
Another noise, something heavy falling, the stomp of feet, makes us both scramble up, pulling on clothes as we go. “Did you lock up?” I grab an empty wine bottle from the recycling to reuse as my weapon.
“I don’t remember.” Laine’s bleary-eyed but awake. She grabs the bat we keep behind the counter, and together, we ease toward the winery. She squeezes my hand before she throws the door open. The lights are already on.
“For the love of God, ugh !” A figure sways near our aging base wines, reeling backward from the threat of Laine’s bat. “It’s me, your sister.” Rachel glares at Laine before dumping her gaze on me. “And your—your—Rachel!”
I don’t know what I was expecting—a wine burglar? Baahlzebub on the prowl? But definitely not Rachel, drunk as a skunk and smelling like the last flat swallow of beer.
“ Jesus .” Laine lowers her bat. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve got somethin’ to say to you!” Her giant purse is capsized on the floor, its contents scattered around like a very strange Easter egg hunt where the best prizes are lipsticks and keto bars. “And also, tryna find my keys.” Rachel straightens, but her eyes slide closed like the move’s made her dizzy. I’ve seen it a hundred times.
“We’ve got a puker!”
Rachel heaves over and gags, and Laine snatches her by the arm, dragging her away from the tote of base wine that’s holding her up, its cover half-off.
“Not near the wine! Jesus! ” Laine yells, her face scrunched in disgust as she pulls the cover back on the base wine. “You’re blitzed.”
“Well, you’re a bunghole,” Rachel replies, then gives us a crooked smile of triumph.
Laine runs her hands over her face. “You didn’t drive here, did you?”
“Just Dad’s golf cart. It’s fine.” Rachel gestures behind her at the wall.
That cart’s probably in a ditch somewhere.
“Anyway, quit changing the subject!” She lobs a finger at Laine, then clears her throat as though she’s about to launch into a rehearsed speech. “You have some nerve, Charlaine! You disappear for the last ten years, then come home on your ass, acting like you’re too good for everything while begging your family for handouts!”
Rachel wobbles on her feet, anchored only by her big, glaring eyes. “That money was set aside for me , for my new project! But noooo, evvvverybody loves the lesbians! Give them all the money! Nobody gives a shit about Rachel! Or Rachel’s brewery. Or what Rachel cares about!”
“You’re opening a brewery?” I ask, unable to resist probing Rachel’s third-person confession for truth.
“I was trying to!” Rachel gestures at her beer-splashed outfit, like that explains anything. “Not anymore! And all so Charlaine here can buy up some decrepit vineyard in the middle of nowhere and make more bad wine? Yeah, real great business plan, fam!”
Vineyard? What vineyard? I blink, then turn to Laine, but she’s looking straight at Rachel, fury glinting in her eyes. “You’re drunk and spewing nonsense, Rachel. I know you hate me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a member of this family, too! You were outvoted, okay? Deal with it!”
“I won’t deal with it! How can I when you both keep taking everything I’ve worked so hard for?” Rachel’s voice breaks.
I rear back. “What have I taken from you?!”
Rachel points at me so hard, she staggers. “You said no . Everyday Bon Vivant asked if you’d collaborate with Into the Woods for the showcase, and you said no !” Rachel’s hands ball into fists, even as tears stream down her cheeks. “After everything we’ve done for you, you ungrateful bitch!”
“Whoa!” Laine forces herself between Rachel and me. “You need to stop talking to her like that, Rachel, so help me God.”
“ You said no first !” I yell over Laine’s shoulder, like the beginning of every fight I witnessed at good old Gilmer County High. “Marisol told me so!”
“That’s right!” Rachel puffs out her chest like that’s something to be proud of.
So she’s aware she’s a hypocrite. Great.
“I’m tired of carrying your sorry ass, Zoe Brennan! But the one time you could give us something back, you say no? Well, fuck you! You wouldn’t even have a vintner right now if it weren’t for us and Charlaine sucking so hard!”
“That’s it.” Laine’s jaw grinds as she grabs Rachel by the arm. “I’m taking you home.”
Rachel allows herself to be pushed out, but not before yelling over her shoulder, “She’s gonna hurt you, Zoe, don’t you see that? She hurts everybody who loves her! Wait, I don’t have my keys—”
But Laine’s got Rachel’s purse and she’s leading her toward my truck, and me?
All I’ve got are questions.