Chapter 8
Sherry
I placed the cases of wine for the Sasquatch and Sips event in my truck and slammed it shut.
Nero would meet me there to conduct the tasting.
It was my job to get everything set up and ready before he arrived.
I still had no idea where we were going to fit everyone.
The museum wasn’t exactly big. There was a back area that had enough room for a table and a few chairs.
Steve had confirmed there would be fifteen people attending, which made me wonder if we’d have to put chairs on the sidewalk and hope the mayor didn’t drive by and see us hosting a wine tasting without a permit.
I slipped into the driver’s seat, already picturing Steve in his Bigfoot tie, trying to convince the mayor it counted as ‘cryptid education.’ With my luck, we’d get shut down halfway through the first pour, and I’m the one holding the evidence.
A laugh rumbled my chest as I went to put my car in reverse. I checked my mirror, and as soon as I put my foot on the gas, I slammed on the brakes.
“Wait!” A man waved his hands behind me, and I put my car in park. Once my heart rate slowed, I got out of the car, only to realize it was Lewis, Phoebe’s assistant. Walking behind him in a pair of gorgeous heels was Phoebe.
“Thank you, Lewis,” Phoebe said as she approached.
“No problem, boss,” he said in between gasps.
“What’s going on?” My eyes bounced back between the two.
“Sorry for the theatrics,” Phoebe said. “But I have to speak to you about something I think you are going to be very happy about.”
I checked the time. “I have to be at the museum in twenty minutes.”
“Steve can wait.” Phoebe linked her arm through mine and walked me toward the tasting room. “You know my boss, right?” she asked. “The bigwig. The rich, very rich man.”
“Of course.” The man owned the resort Phoebe worked for, plus a slew of others around the world.
“Remember how his daughter got engaged over Christmas?”
I nodded, excitement spreading through me, but I tried to maintain my composure, not wanting to jump to conclusions.
“Well, since they opened the resort, his daughter has spent a lot of time here. She loves the small-town vibes, the privacy she doesn’t get in the big cities.”
She was a hotel heiress, a socialite who partied with some of the biggest names, and had graced the pages of many tabloids over the years. “What are you saying?”
“I may have had dinner with her the other night and sold her on having her wedding at the vineyard.”
If Phoebe wasn’t holding me, I would have fallen flat on my face.
Words evaded me. If I planned this wedding, it would be in every magazine, in every wedding content creator’s mouth.
It would catapult us into a level of exposure that neither I nor Rose, with all her social media savvy ways, would be able to do.
“Is this a delayed April Fool’s joke?” I asked, unable to wrap my head around the enormity of this opportunity.
Phoebe laughed and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “You know I don’t joke about career-changing weddings.”
Lewis finally recovered from me almost making him road kill and nodded. “I was there. Phoebe sold the hell out of you. Heck, I almost wanted to book you for my wedding, and I don’t even have a girlfriend.”
I smiled at him because I had a feeling he was holding his heart out for Phoebe’s stepsister, who was currently in Italy.
Phoebe took my hand and squeezed. “You are my sister-in-law, but you are also the best wedding planner I have ever encountered, and I have encountered a lot in my line of business. You gave Laurent and me the absolute most perfect wedding. Your attention to detail is unmatched, and even if you weren’t my sister-in-law, I would have vouched for you. ”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll meet with the bride-to-be.”
“Of course I will.”
“Good.” Phoebe and Lewis smiled at each other. “I’ll give you a rundown, from her style to her least favorite food. You can tailor a pitch to her and her fiancé and knock her out of her designer shoes.”
“This could be big,” I said.
“ Huge ,” Phoebe corrected. “Make sure to tell Lainey, because if Domenique goes with you, she’s going to want one of Lainey’s cakes. And there’s one thing about Domenique, small town vibes or not, it’s go big or go home. She’s going to want it all.”
“And then some,” Lewis said.
“When?” I asked. “When does she want to meet?”
Phoebe slipped her phone out and tapped the screen. “Her schedule is tight, but she has availability next Thursday.”
Mentally, I counted the days from now. It was Friday, so that would give me a week and a day to come up with the best pitch imaginable. “Give me a time, and I’ll make it work.”
“How’s ten? That way, the tasting room will be closed, and she can get the full experience without a single person in her way.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll let her know.” Phoebe typed on her screen and then smiled. “Done.”
We both squealed, grabbed each other’s arms, and jumped up and down.
“Okay, I’ll let you go to the museum.”
“Oh crap!” I checked the time. “Love you.” I hugged Phoebe. “Sorry for almost running you over,” I said to Lewis.
An excited bubble welled up inside me as I slid behind the wheel, and visions of centerpieces, floral arches, and champagne towers danced through my mind as I started the engine.
This wedding could change everything, not just for me, but for the vineyard.
We were already insanely successful, and Grandpa had made a lasting impact on the wine community, but this could elevate us even further.
Elevate the town and bring more business to the local shops.
I pulled out of the lot with a smile on my face.
All I had to do was not spill wine all over someone’s Bigfoot figurine, then I could start planning the event of the year.
I hurried to the museum, grateful I didn’t get stuck in a traffic jam behind Albert and his tractor, and pulled into the first open spot. I didn’t have much in the way of setup since the décor was pretty much the essence of the museum itself.
However, I had wine, glasses, and napkins with the logo of the vineyard stamped on them.
It would most likely be locals, and no one could ever mistake our wine for the competition, but I liked to make sure.
There was nothing wrong with keeping the brand front and center to remind people where to get the best wine.
With a case in my arms, I stumbled on the uneven ground, then made my way to the door when the box was lifted from my grasp. “What the…?”
I turned, not knowing what to expect, but I most definitely didn’t expect to be staring into familiar green eyes.
“Ben?” I said, my voice breathier than I liked. “What are you doing here?”
His tousled, dirty blond hair caught the light and my attention. My gaze drifted across his broad shoulders to the box balanced effortlessly in his arms. His faded jeans clung just right, paired with that damn confidence he wore like a second skin.
His lips curved into a smug half-smile. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m helping you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Sure you do. Besides, you’re heading where I’m heading.”
My eyebrows drew together, my natural curiosity getting the better of me. “You’re going to Steve’s museum? Seriously?”
“He invited me when we were at Brady’s cask opening. He’s a hard guy to say no to. I think it’s the sad, puppy dog eyes.”
Steve was far from a puppy dog. He definitely resembled more of, well… Big Foot.
Ben lowered his head and looked up at me through partially widened eyes, a pitiful pout on his sexy lips.
He laughed, obviously amused by his own comparison.
“Okay, fine. Maybe not puppy dog eyes. More like the unwavering determination of a man who’s spent a good portion of his life trying to prove a large, muscular, hairy primate lives in the surrounding woods. ”
“Just wait until he shows you his plaster cast collection. They’re behind glass like they’re the crown jewels.”
Ben bumped his shoulder against mine. “Honestly, that sounds like the most fun I’ve had in months.”
It was the slightest of touches, but it spread through me like wildfire.
I kept my eyes forward, refusing to look at him.
It also made me wonder if he’d been home alone at night.
A weird sense of hope bloomed inside of my chest. I shoved the feeling down, refusing to acknowledge it, and forced a smirk.
“Don’t get too excited. Steve’s idea of fun includes a detailed slide show that runs about two hours and a heated debate over blurry photos of what he calls ‘Big Foot sightings,’ but if you ask me, they are just shadows from the trees.”
“So you’re a skeptic?”
“I don’t believe in fairytales.”
“Maybe I’ll turn you into a believer.”
I glanced at him, his eyes locking on mine, and I knew the fairytales he was referring to did not include a Yeti.
I cut my gaze and continued walking.
“Wait!” His arm jutted out in front of me, my torso slamming into his strength as he held me in place. A car buzzed by as my mind processed.
Ben’s other arm strained with the weight of the box of wine, but he didn’t remove his arm from in front of me.
“Thank you,” I said. “It would have ruined the event if I was taken out by a Prius.”
He chuckled, low and warm, the sound curling around something deep inside me. “I would agree a flattened event planner would not set the right mood.”
I nodded, trying to ignore how close he was, how despite the box of wine in his one arm, the other still lingered like a shield I didn’t ask for but didn’t hate.
“I would have seen the car… eventually.”
“Nah.” That damn smirk lit his face. “You were too blinded by my sexiness.”
My eyes rolled on their own accord. “You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?” I hurried across the street to the sidewalk, the warmth from his arm clinging to my stomach.