Tasty

10. Ms. Get It Done! #2

I explained it all and they listened to me without interruption.

“That old shed is the real problem,” I continued. “If I can’t get that in budget…”

Patch nodded slowly. “You and Mr. Sinclair in trouble, ain’t you?”

I nodded.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He’ll pay y’all out his own pocket if it gets too bad. But I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

That sat with them.

Patch leaned back slightly. “You know… a few of the guys know a thing or two about construction.”

I looked at him.

“And I don’t mind having a little tour group follow me around,” he added.

I shook my head immediately. “No, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he said. “Besides… if we don’t do it, who will?”

He glanced down at my shoes.

“Not you in them high heels in all this mud.”

I laughed. I had to.

“Let me be great.” I lean back on my palms. “Still. I don’t know if it’s in the budget to pay you for that.”

“Ms. Rodriguez,” he said, more serious now, “I put my kids through college because of this place. I had a job when half the world lost theirs during COVID. I never needed for nothing.”

He looked out toward the rows.

“I want to keep this place open as long as possible. I don’t mind a little extra work. Let me earn the damn bonus for once.”

I nodded slowly.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to Marlon about it.”

“Thanks Miss.”

“Just call me Rory. Please.”

“Got it. Rory.” He gave me a playful wink.

“Ms. Aurora!”

I turned at the sound of Hartland’s voice before I even saw him.

He came jogging into the clearing, slightly out of breath, Wyatt not far behind him, both of them looking like they’d been walking a minute.

“There you are,” Hartland said, hands on his knees. “I thought we lost you too.”

Wyatt slowed as he approached, eyes moving from me to Chewy, then to the group. “You good?”

“I’m good,” I said, finishing off the last of my plate.

“He’s good.” I lifted Chewy slightly for emphasis.

Wyatt nodded once, relieved. “Well it’s getting late. Lemme give you a ride up to the office.”

“But can all of us fit in one ATV?”

Wyatt looked confused. “My ATV went down yesterday. I got a truck.”

Now I was confused.

“Marlon told me all y’all had was ATVs and horses.”

Silence.

Then laughter.

“He said that!” Wyatt laughed. “We got trucks, Aurora. Like five of them.”

My eye twitched.

I hate that scheming ass nigga I swear! He probably just wanted me on that horse so he could feel me up!

Patch leaned back, arms crossed. “How’d y’all even get out here in the first place?”

I answered through gritted teeth. “We walked.”

Silence.

Every single one of them looked at me.

Wyatt blinked. “How long did it take?”

Hartland didn’t even let me answer. “Forty minutes!”

Patch shook his head slowly. “In them?” he asked, nodding down at my heels.

“Don’t remind me. I survived but I’m paying for it.”

Wyatt let out a quiet breath through his nose, somewhere between impressed and confused. “You’re something else.”

“I’ve been told that,” I said, securing chewy to his leash and standing up to brush my hands off. “Frequently.”

He looked back toward the direction we came from, then at me again.

“You want shotgun?” he said.

“Yes,” I said immediately. “Please.”

The ride back felt completely different from the walk out.

The engine hummed under us as we moved through the rows, cutting down the time it took to get out here by more than half.

Chewy had his head out the window, enjoying every second of it as Hartland laid out in the bed of the truck, exhausted.

Wind pushed against my face, warm now that the sun had fully come up. The vineyard looked different from this angle—wider, more organized, easier to understand.

“You really walked all the way out here?” Wyatt asked with one hand on the wheel and the other over the headrest of my seat.

“Yes,” I said. “Remind me to strangle Marlon for that.”

We hit a small bump, and I instinctively leaned closer into him to steady myself.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I said, tightening my grip on Chewy. “He the one who doesn’t give a fuck about his life.”

Wyatt glanced down briefly. “He seems like he’s enjoying himself.”

Chewy’s tongue hung out.

“Of course he is,” I said. “No responsibilities.”

“Sounds like you yesterday,” Wyatt said.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “You got jokes now?”

He smiled. “A little.”

Then he did the little movement to make a stick-shift change gears.

“How do you do that?”

“Change gears?”

“Drive,” I watched his hands. “I never learned.”

“Really?” he slowed down. “Wanna try?”

“Yes!” I climbed over the divider thingy and into his lap and he stopped.

“Why have we stopped!” Hartland was so over it.

“Gimme a minute, my Hart. I’m learning me something!”

I looked over my shoulder at Wyatt and he was red.

“I-I thought we’d switch seats or something.”

“Nah,” I placed my hands on the wheel. “This makes more sense to me. Step on it!”

I always wanted to say that.

The main buildings came into view ahead of us and he talked about how to change gears or whatever. I wasn’t listening. I grew up with chauffeurs and car services so just steering had my blood pumping.

We pulled up near the main office, gravel crunching as Wyatt slowed it down.

And Marlon was already outside.

Standing there talking to employees as they poured in. Arms relaxed, posture straight, eyes locked on us the second we came into view. I felt the earth shake when his eyes landed on the truck.

“AURORA RODRIGUEZ, GET THE FUCK OFF THAT MAN’S LAP NOW!”

A part of me wanted to take it to hell, you know, stick my tongue out, or give him the finger. But that would also land Wyatt in even deeper hot water. So I slid off when the door opened, adjusting my dress like nothing was out of place with Chewy tucked against my hip.

Wyatt cut the engine behind me and Hartland came down from the truck bed, still catching his breath.

“Yes, Marlon?” I blinked innocently.

He gripped my elbow and pulled me off to the side. “What the fuck are you doing in his lap?!”

I looked around and saw everyone looking at us. He saw it too, and he forced his shoulders to relax.

I shrugged. “Learning to drive.”

Before he could reply, I was walking over to the employees. “Good morning, everyone! How are you?”

The atmosphere around us was thick, and bit by bit, as the workers disappeared into the vineyard, we were left alone again. Marlon’s gaze moved between us. Me. Wyatt. Hartland. Chewy. The mud on the tires.

Then back to me.

“What do you two have going on?” he asked, voice low now. “And why is TaskRabbit still here?”

I tilted my head. “Good morning to you too.”

“I asked you a question.”

“And I heard it,” I said. “I’m working. Like you said I should.”

He looked me over slowly. “This what working look like?”

“Yes,” I said, unbothered. “Field research.”

Wyatt let out a quiet breath behind me.

Marlon didn’t even glance at him.

“Mm,” he said. “And he part of the research too?”

I smiled slightly. “He’s helpful.”

“I’m sure he is.”

Ouuu. He mad.

I shifted my weight, stepping a little closer and walking into dangerous territory. “Relax. It’s not what it looks like. I’m working on a plan and Wyatt was just helping me.”

“A plan,” he repeated.

“Yes,” I said. “I just need to get a few things sorted first, then I’ll come find you later and walk you through it.”

He studied me for a second.

“You been busy,” he said.

“I haven’t slept,” I replied.

“I can tell.”

“Wow,” I sighed. “You say the sweetest things.”

Wyatt coughed behind me like he was trying not to laugh.

Marlon’s eyes flicked to him for half a second.

That was enough. Then back to me.

“Check your office,” he said, stalking over to Wyatt.

I frowned slightly, then turned to Hartland, nodding my head toward the building for him to follow me.

As I headed inside, I looked back to see Marlon whispering intensely to Wyatt. I knew he was fighting like hell to remain professional and not choke him out.

I mouthed an apology to Wy because I really didn’t mean to get him in trouble. He gave me a friendly grin, which Marlon caught.

“Inside now!” he barked. I couldn’t help myself. I gave him the finger and ran inside before he reprimanded me.

Thankfully, he didn’t follow. I pushed my office door open—

And stopped.

“Oh.”

A shredder sat on my desk, brand new.

I smiled before I could stop myself.

Okay. That was… noted.

Now, I almost feel bad for flipping him off.

“Finally!” Hartland said, stepping in behind me like he had just seen heaven. “If I get another papercut, I’ll sue.”

Aw, my poor little Hart.

I turned to him, leaning back against the desk.

“Hey,” I said casually. “What do you think about coming on board as my assistant? Full time.”

He blinked at me. “Is it still a hundred dollars a day?”

I stared at him.

“…we’ll circle back to that.”

“Marlon,” I pushed the door open without knocking and walked in. “I’m here! Clear your schedule.”

Hartland followed behind me, arms full of everything I needed—iPad, folders, loose notes, and the tape measure still hanging out his pocket.

Marlon didn’t look up right away. He finished whatever line he was reading with his glasses hanging low on his face and set his pen down neatly, then leaned back in his chair.

The room was smoky from the cigar in the ashtray near his files and the first thing I noticed was the lack of ventilation in this place.

Noted.

“…you brought the TaskRabbit?” he asked, glancing at Hartland.

“He has a name, Marlon. It’s Hartland,” I corrected. “Don’t be a rude prick.”

Marlon stared at both of us with another level of annoyance. That mean mug was dangerous and Hart must be scared because he immediately added;

“TaskRabbit is fine!”

Oh, but when it was me.

“Why is he still here, Aurora? If he does all your work, I might as well just hire him instead.”

“No need. I already did.”

Marlon’s eyebrow rose. “Did what?”

I just grinned. Marlon did not.

“You hired him?”

Hartland gave a small nod.

“Assistant,” he added.

Marlon’s eyes flicked between us. “I didn’t approve that.”

“Oh, I didn’t ask,” I said sweetly.

“Aurora,” he laughed but nothing was funny. He did that laugh parents did before they told you to get the belt. Then he swallowed.

“Aight. Let’s hear it,” he said.

That was my cue. I stepped closer to his desk and turned my iPad toward him, swiping to the first slide.

“So,” I started, “the vineyard is boring.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“I bet it is to you,” he said.

“No boo-boo. It is to everyone.” I turned to Hartland. “Right?”

“I really don’t want to participate.”

“Coward.” I turned to Marlon. “He said so earlier. I swear.”

His eye twitched under those frames.

“Okay moving along,” I pivoted. “It’s beautiful, but boring. There’s no experience. No reason for people to stay, spend, or come back.”

“That’s because this is a winery. Not a sip and paint.”

I swiped to the layouts, notes, my pinterest board and project timelines.

“We can fix that,” I said. “We turn the vineyard into an event.”

He leaned forward slightly now, elbows resting on the desk as he scanned my Ipad screen. Good, he’s interested.

I kept going.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m thinking wine tastings, guided tours, and wine-making classes. Limited entry so it stays exclusive. Late afternoon into evening so it doesn’t interfere with your regular operations.”

Swipe.

“People come in, they tour, they learn, they drink, they spend money, they leave happy.”

“That’s the goal of any business,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “But you not doing it.”

Hartland coughed behind me again but I continued. “We gotta get more people interested in this place, Marley. It’s a good source of extra income.”

He pondered it.

“And transportation?” he asked.

“Handled,” I said immediately. “We will partner with local services. Shuttle them in, shuttle them out. Keeps traffic off your property and makes it feel intentional.”

“And what about the shed? Did you figure out how to make that work yet?”

“Final stop,” I said. “We clean it up, turn it into a tasting lounge. Open seating. Views. Something people actually post about.”

I let him see it. Let him picture it.

He didn’t speak right away. Just studied the screen, tapping once, scrolling slightly.

“It’s a good idea,” he said finally.

I folded my arms, satisfied.

“I know.”

“I’ll have accounts look at the budget,” he continued. “Give them a day.”

“I already did it,” I said. “It’s within budget.”

“With what system?”

“I’m working on something.”

His jaw tightened just a little.

“You? You’re putting something together?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” I scoffed. “I’m not stupid, Marlon. Just expensive.”

Hartland let out a quiet laugh this time and immediately looked down like he regretted it when I shot him a look.

Where was this energy when I needed back up, Hart?

Marlon didn’t even blink. He reached for the iPad, adjusted his glasses on his face with the heels of his palm, and scrolled through my numbers himself.

“It works,” he admitted. “On paper.”

“Everything starts on paper,” I said.

“The team isn’t ready for this,” he replied. “This is a big shift. They’d need time.”

“I’ll get them ready,” I said.

“That’s not how that works.”

“That’s exactly how it works,” I shot back. “You give people something new, they adjust.”

He leaned back again, studying me like he was trying to figure out if I was serious or just stubborn.

Both were the correct answer.

“I can have this ready by the end of the month,” I added. “I just came to let you know.”

His expression didn’t change.

“You’re not launching anything without approval,” he said.

“From who?” I asked, even though I knew.

“Me.”

I smiled. “Well, you like it.”

“I said it’s a good idea.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not.”

“It is when I’m the one executing it,” I said.

Marlon’s gaze stayed locked on mine.

“You don’t get to make decisions like this on your own,” he said.

“So. Are you gonna back me?”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, tapping his fingers once against the desk before speaking again. “As of right now, I like it. You will have to run it by the board for approval and we meet at the end of the week. Still…”

I waited.

“…good job, Bunny.”

Yay!

I jumped up, grabbing my iPad.

“I’ll circle back,” I said, already turning toward the door.

“Aurora?”

I paused, glancing back.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

I smiled. “Too late.”

And walked out anyway.