Chapter 9
Rosa
I ’m still thinking about that kiss the next morning.
I hurry through my morning routine, keeping an eye out for Jake. His bedroom door is still shut, and the bathroom is empty.
Downstairs, though, there’s a coffee cup on the side of the sink and a half-full carafe in the coffee maker. I ignore how thoughtful that is and pour myself a cup, doctoring it up with some creamer and sugar.
Jake always teased me about how my coffee barely deserved the name once I got through fixing it to my liking.
I shake my head and take a long sip, letting the warmth and caffeine soak into my bloodstream.
That stupid kiss is still on a loop inside my head, where it’s been since last night. I tossed and turned for way too many hours with that memory playing over and over and over.
It was nothing, right? Barely even qualified as a kiss. Just a quick press of the lips as a thank-you.
But I know I’m lying to myself because that “nothing” of a kiss affected me more than any other kiss I’ve had in the past ten years.
Not that there are a lot to compare it to. I mean, I haven’t been on the shelf. I’ve dated.
A little.
In my defense, I was always really busy. First college, then working for Belmonte. Didn’t leave a lot of time to get out there and meet people. And in Oak Creek Canyon, everybody knows everybody.
When you watched a guy eat paste in first grade, it’s hard to see him as a viable romantic partner as an adult.
A little voice inside me whispers that no one around here ever held a candle to Jake anyway, so why would I bother?
I groan and set the half-drunk mug of coffee in the sink. This is getting me nowhere.
Might as well head into town and take care of some errands.
And if that gets me out of the house so I won’t run into Jake, all the better.
* * *
Downtown Oak Creek Canyon is bustling, locals and tourists mingling on the sidewalks as they wander in and out of the storefronts. A guy in front of the tourism-board office holds up a sign, trying to encourage visitors to sign up for a winery tour.
Maybe next year Caparelli can be part of something like that.
I pull out my phone and start tapping out a text to Bianca and Allegra with the idea. I know we’re barely clinging to the winery by our fingernails at this point, but nothing wrong with planning for the future, right?
A shadow falls over the phone screen, and I look up. Uncle Geno is standing there, looming over me.
I know—it sounds dramatic, but there’s no other word to describe it.
For a brief, wild moment, I hope he’s ready to wish me well. Tell me he’s proud of us for making a go of it.
Then I notice the tightness around his mouth and the way he’s trying to pretend he’s relaxed. Casual.
Nope, no family pride forthcoming.
“Rosa.” His voice is clipped, businesslike.
I nod. “Hi, Uncle Geno.”
“Surprised to see you here.” He glances around. “Are you sure you can afford—well, whatever you’re window shopping for?”
Well, that’s rude.
I bite back a snarky reply. “Just picking up some supplies. Window shopping isn’t my speed.”
“No, I suppose that would be more your mother’s thing.”
I smile tightly. I may have issues with my mother, but hell if I like hearing her own brother talk that way about her. “What are you up to?”
His smile is condescending as hell. “The chamber of commerce meeting just ended. It’s important to give back to the community, you know.”
If only he thought it was as important to provide some level of support for family.
“How are things at Caparelli?” He looks down at me, a fake look of concern on his face. “I was sorry to hear that you’re struggling.”
Yeah. Sure you were, Uncle Geno.
“Who says that?”
He waves a hand dismissively. “It’s a small town.”
“Yes, it is. But don’t worry—we’re doing fine.”
“‘We’?” His gaze is sharper now, somehow. “I heard your only employee quit last week. Who’s ‘we’?”
So he knows about Damien but apparently not Jake. Yet. And I don’t want to be the one to tell him. “Allegra and Bianca,” I say, because that’s sort of true. “And I have a couple of interns starting soon.”
He harrumphs. “Rosa, I admire your can-do spirit. But there’s no way you’re going to be able to make a go of this with your absentee sisters and a handful of students with no experience. It’s time to bring Caparelli back into the fold.”
I know he’s not entirely wrong. I’ve definitely chosen the harder option. Handing the reins back to Uncle Geno and the cousins would be so much easier, so much less stress. But I don’t want to assimilate, to see Nonna’s legacy swallowed whole by the rest of the family business.
And with Jake helping me now, there’s a glimmer of hope that it could actually work.
“At least give me the grapes for Carleo. Just this year. I have preorders. You must understand—it’s our reputation. The family reputation.”
I look at him for a long moment, my head tilted. Give him the grapes. Not sell them, not trade for something that Caparelli needs. He still sees Caparelli—sees us— as something that belongs to him, to Belmonte.
“We have plans for those grapes as well. You’ll have to figure something else out this year.”
And even though I’m shaking inside, I pull my shoulders back, turn on my heel, and walk away.
* * *
When I get home, I’m still riding high on the feeling of standing up to Uncle Geno. Other than deciding to take on the challenge of making Caparelli an independent winery once again, that’s not something I’ve done before. I’ve spent my entire adult life doing what he’s told me, hoping at some point he would see my worth. That he’d give me responsibilities, let me contribute to Belmonte like his sons do.
But it never happened. I stayed in the background, doing as I was told, never allowed to pull my own weight. My college degree—the one I chose specifically so I could contribute to Belmonte—was ignored.
I feel like I’ve been continually paying penance for my mistake ten years ago, and I’m done.
Now I have an opportunity to show my worth, prove I’m capable, and I’m not going to run back to Belmonte with my tail between my legs. I’m going to ensure that Caparelli is a success.
No matter what.
I pull into the driveway and turn off the car, sitting there for a little bit before getting out.
For the first time in my adult life, I actually feel like I’m in the driver’s seat.
Then I get out and head to the front porch, where Jake is sitting in the late-afternoon shade.
“Hey, Rosa,” he says, lifting the glass in his hand. “How’s your day been?”
“Not bad,” I reply. “Is that lemonade?”
He nods. “There’s more in the fridge.”
I walk past him, into the house, headed for the kitchen. Lemonade sounds really good right now.
Back on the porch, I settle into the remaining chair and take a long sip. “God, that’s good.”
“Right?” He finished his drink and sets the glass on the little table between us. “The perfect beverage on a hot summer day.”
I nod. “Everything going well in the field?”
“Except for waiting on our interns to get started, it’s great. Running smoothly.” He pauses, and it seems like he’s about to say more, but instead, we both sit in silence for a while. I squint out at the hazy view, the heat of the late-afternoon sun pressing down on the horizon.
“Ran into my uncle today,” I say, glancing over at him. His mouth tightens, which isn’t surprising. Geno was never his favorite person.
“Oh? And how did that go?”
“Pretty well, actually.” I try to hide the grin threatening to break out. “I stood up for myself, for once.”
“Really?” He smiles at me, and my heart clenches. “That’s pretty awesome.”
I nod. “He tried to bully me into giving Belmonte our Cab grapes, and I flat out told him no, we have plans for them ourselves.”
Jake laughs, head tilted back, and I’m ridiculously proud of myself. This is all so small, so basic—but I can’t help it. Everything about this feels good.
“I bet he had a coronary when he found out I was working here,” Jake adds, and just like that, my good mood slides away.
“Uh.” I twist my hands in my lap. “I didn’t tell him.”
There’s a long pause. “Oh.”
I glance sideways at him. “Bianca knows, of course. And Sasha. But otherwise, I haven’t told anyone.”
He nods.
“I thought we’d want to keep it quiet. You know.”
“No, I don’t.” His face is impassive.
Flustered, I wave a hand in the air. “You know how gossip is in Oak Creek Canyon. People blow things all out of proportion and—” I snap my mouth shut. I’m babbling, and I don’t like it. “I guess I just didn’t want people to know you’re here.”
“But people already do know I’m here. At least working for you. I spent half a day going around town trying to hire people for your vineyard.”
“Yes, but…”
“And I had lunch with Wade a couple days ago.”
I do an actual double take. “Wait, you had lunch with Wade?”
“In town. At the café. Outside, at a table on the sidewalk. Sorry—I didn’t know that I had to stay hidden from public view.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” I rub a hand over my forehead. “It’s just…complicated.”
“Nothing complicated about it.” He shrugs. “Just your average married couple sharing the same address for a while.”
“Jake.”
“Totally innocent. Like that kiss last night.”
I can’t help myself—I whip my head around to make sure no one is listening. When I turn back, he’s got this smirk on his face that makes me want to…
Dammit. It makes me want to kiss him again.
“I don’t want to talk about that, either.”
“Too bad. It was a good kiss. Definitely in my top ten.”
I absolutely do not wonder how many of the other nine were after we broke up.
I also don’t think about the fact that I can’t even remember having nine other kisses in that same time frame.
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, because that was definitely too brief of a kiss to make his hall of fame.
He pins me with a look .
“There’s no way that little kiss is in your top ten.”
“You think that was a little kiss? A nothingburger? Okay, then. Maybe we should try again, see if we can get it right this time.”
Oh, God. Every part of my body is saying yes, please . But that would be the worst idea ever.
I shake my head and change the subject. Again. “Look, Jake, when we agreed to this arrangement it was business only, and I want it to stay that way.”
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.
“And even though people probably will figure out that we’re working together, I’d rather not flaunt the fact that you’re living here as well.”
“Okay.” He stands, picking up his glass, and heads toward the front door. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The soft thud of the door closing behind him echoes in my head louder than a gunshot.