Chapter 2
DAPHNE
The tension reverberating off Cru’s body was almost palpable.
If he’d pressed to know why I was crying earlier, I would have had to admit his reluctance to touch me was one reason.
Cru and I had always been close. God, we’d known each other since we were teenagers.
He’d never hesitated to hug me, rub my shoulders, nudge me with his elbow, or even curl up under a blanket with me when we watched a movie. Why had that changed all of a sudden?
Was it because I wasn’t with Beau anymore and Cru didn’t want to give me the wrong idea?
Did he think I was so desperate for companionship that I’d expect him to pick up where my other boyfriend had left off?
Did Cru, who I believed knew me better than just about anyone else, think I was the kind of girl who was afraid of being single? That I always had to have a boyfriend?
Another reason for my tears was Brix’s comment. I hated that everyone—not just Cru—thought I was devastated by Beau’s relationship with Sam. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. In fact, I was happy for them.
Finally, the thing weighing heaviest on my mind was what I would do with the rest of my life. That worry wasn’t new. Two weeks ago, I’d turned twenty-six—the same age my mum was when I was born.
I’d gone to university, graduated, and went on to get my master’s in Viticulture and Enology from UC Davis, but had done nothing with it.
No doubt, my parents hoped I’d return to Australia and work for them, but they were well aware I didn’t want to.
I loved them, but they didn’t own a winery.
Instead, it was one of the largest privately held global wine-making and distribution businesses in the world.
An MBA would’ve served me far better if that had been the kind of work I wanted to do.
The problem was no one wanted to hire me. Or that’s what I believed. I hadn’t looked for a job, either here, on the Central Coast, or in Napa or Sonoma, because I knew the kind of work I wanted didn’t exist.
The only way I could make wine for a small vintner was if I purchased vineyard property myself. Even then, I’d have to hire someone to help me for the first five years at least.
I sighed, rested my head against the sofa, and closed my eyes.
“What?” Cru asked.
I opened one and glanced at him. “What, what?”
“The sigh.”
“I’m hungry.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was misleading. I was starving for a life, not food.
“So, uh…”
“What?” I said like he had, sitting up.
“Brix and Addy invited us over for dinner tonight.”
“And?”
“Do you want to go?”
I shrugged. “Sure. If you do.” Maybe Brix would know of a vineyard owner in search of an apprentice winemaker.
“Can you wait that long?”
I studied him. “To ask about a job?”
Cru’s forehead furrowed. “I was talking about eating since you said you’re hungry. I didn’t know you were looking for a job. Do you think…?”
“What?” I repeated.
“Are you planning on staying here?”
“If by here you mean at Seahorse, then no. If you mean on the Central Coast, it depends on whether I can find something to do with myself.”
“I thought after…”
“Bloody hell, Cru, finish your sentences.”
“What you went through. I wondered if you’d want to return to Australia.”
I raised a brow. “You do remember the guy I was with was an Aussie, right?” It was stupid of me to think I’d be safe with a stranger, regardless of where he was from. When I thought about what could have happened to me, I shuddered.
“Daph?”
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
“Nothing. It was you who said you wanted to talk to Brix about a job.”
“Seems time I got one, doesn’t it?” I rested against the sofa again and shut my eyes.
“What kind of work do you want to do?”
I opened one like I had before and sighed again. “The kind I doubt exists. At least how I want to do it.”
Cru turned his body toward me. “Wine-making?”
“I know I sound like a spoiled ankle biter, but I want to make my own.”
“Interesting.”
“You’re probably going to suggest I purchase a vineyard, but I’ve looked, and there are none I’d want to take on.”
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
“Do you know someone who’s looking?” I asked.
Cru nodded. “Los Cab.”
“Very funny. Are you telling me you’re leaving?”
“Not me. Brix.”
My eyes opened wide. “Why?”
“He and Addy want to live in Mexico. They’re building a house on the property Uncle Tryst gave them as a wedding gift.”
“I don’t see Brix giving up wine-making.”
“I didn’t, either, but he’s set on it.”
I looked at the time. It was late for lunch, but too long until dinner. While I hadn’t felt hungry for food a few minutes ago, I did now. “Stave is open, right?”
“What day is it?”
I smiled. Cru’s quirk was never remembering the day of the week. “Friday.”
“Then, yeah.”
“I could go for some tapas.” Stave was a wine bar and tasting room in the village of Cambria, which was about a ten-minute drive north from where we were. Cru’s sister, Alex, and her best friend, Peyton, owned it.
He stood. “Ready when you are.”
“I, um…”
“Are you trying to say you don’t want me to go with you?”
I gasped. “What? No. I was thinking I should find another place to stay. I mean, being here feels slightly awkward.”
“Do you have anywhere in mind?” he asked.
“Not really, but there’s probably an inn on Moonstone Beach with vacancies. I could stay in one until I find somewhere else.”
Cru shook his head. “No inns. I’ve got a place.”
I laughed. “First a job. Now a place to stay. What’s next, Cru? Are you going to find me a husband so everyone gets off my back about Beau?”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it.
“It was a joke. And apparently, not a funny one,” I muttered under my breath when he stalked off down the hallway.
“Daphne!” Alex shouted when Cru and I walked into Stave. She came out from behind the bar and hugged me. “How are you?” she whispered.
“I’m fine,” I said, pulling away and trying to figure out if she was asking about my ordeal in New York City or about Beau and Sam. “Hungry and thirsty, though,” I said with a tense smile.
“Your usual?” she asked.
I didn’t have one, but I supposed whenever I came in with Beau, I had a glass of whatever they were pouring from Barrett Family Vintners.
“Do you have anything open from Los Cab?”
Alex smiled. “Always.”
She pulled an unmarked bottle out and poured three glasses.
“What’s this?” Cru asked when he joined us at the bar.
“Taste and see,” said Alex, who’d put the bottle away when she saw him approach.
I watched as he swirled, sniffed, and sipped, rolling the wine around in his mouth before swallowing.
He set the glass down and smiled. “Have you tasted?” he asked.
“I was too fascinated, watching you.”
His eyes blazed, sending heat straight through me. God, didn’t this man have any idea how fucking sexy he was?
My eyes opened wide and my cheeks flushed when something occurred to me. I didn’t remember ever seeing Cru with women outside of the Wicked Winemakers bachelor auction every year, which I was sure Alex—the chair of the event—had roped him into doing.
No doubt, the bidders hoped the date they purchased would turn into something more. I guess it never had.
I’d always bid on Beau, mainly because he didn’t want to have to go on a date with a stranger.
The only person who’d ever offered more was his mum, saying the only way she’d get to spend time with her busy sons was through an auction date.
It was so sad to think about now, knowing she wouldn’t be there this year.
She’d passed away suddenly on Christmas Day.
“Daph?”
I looked up at Cru, then at the glass I’d been excessively swirling.
“What are you thinking about?” Alex asked, wriggling her eyebrows.
“Oh, um, nothing, really,” I responded before inhaling what was in the glass. I sipped, buying some time to think of an answer other than Beau’s dead mother or wondering why I’d never seen Cru with a date.
Could he be gay? I’d never gotten that vibe from him, not that it would’ve bothered me if I had. Or maybe it would’ve, at least on a personal level. I’d been so hot for the man for so long that knowing he’d never be interested in me would be like letting go of a dream.
On the other hand, I supposed I could take solace in knowing that was why he’d never made a move—or at least one more reason he hadn’t.
That I’d been his best friend’s girlfriend for so long was likely the primary factor.
Then again, maybe he wasn’t gay and my dating Beau didn’t keep him from asking me out. Instead, he just wasn’t interested.
“Well?” he asked after I’d taken a second sip.
“Um, it’s good. Very good, in fact.” The truth was my mind was so preoccupied with him that I hadn’t been thinking about the wine at all.
When he looked crestfallen, I swirled again, inhaled deeper, then had another taste. This time, I let the wine linger on my palate. It wasn’t just good; it was fabulous.
“Brilliant!” I exclaimed, taking another hefty pull from the glass.
His tense shoulders dropped, and he leaned his elbow on the bar. “You had me worried.”
“I apologize. I was preoccupied, and I should’ve waited to taste. It really is fantastic, Cru. It’s one of yours, isn’t it?”
He leaned closer. “Maybe sometime I’ll tell you what I named it.”
I wanted to rest my head against his and breathe in the scent of him rather than the wine.
More, I wanted to touch his lips with mine.
Given there was at least a thirty-three-percent chance he was gay, another thirty-three-percent chance that my having been with Beau had turned him off, and a thirty-four percent chance he simply wasn’t interested, I leaned in the opposite direction, reaching for the tapas menu.
I drank more of the wine while pretending to study the list of food. “What would you like?” I asked, handing it to him.
His eyes blazed a second time. “It isn’t on the menu.”
“Hmm,” I said, wishing Alex hadn’t walked away to help other customers. “That’s a shame.”