Chapter 6
Chapter Six
RHYS
Well, this is awkward.
I could drive a train through the tunnel of silence. Dani finds something fascinating on the patio to stare at while Evelyn, the clever old bird she is, swoops in to save the day.
“Welcome, Rhys!” she chirps, her tone slightly too bright. “You look refreshed. Did you sleep well?”
“It took a while to crash,” I admit. “But I had great dreams.”
The simple truth? I still haven’t recovered from last night. I was in a state of near paralysis all morning, lying in bed and fantasizing about Dani’s pearls—caught between torment and lack of any coping mechanism.
“Hi, I’m Nicole Tanner. Recovering lawyer.” The third woman, who has been eyeing me like I’m a fraud, rises from her seat. She extends a mannish hand, dirt caked under every ragged fingernail. “I’ll be schooling you on everything about rosé.”
She crushes our handshake, and I’m briefly silenced by her strength. Nero’s famous winemaker is more handsome than pretty, built lean, with a salt-and-pepper buzz cut and a generous mouth. She looks like a middle-aged Mick Jagger … if he were a woman.
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “And I’m ready to learn.” Turning to Dani, I ask, “How was your night?”
Dani has stubbornly refused to meet my eyes until now. I can see the line of tightness on her forehead, and I attempt to erase it with a wink. I’m stoked that she considers me man candy, but the heartbreaker bit?
Not so much.
“Hot,” she says. “But I survived.”
“I texted Zachary to get his butt in gear to repair the AC,” Evelyn adds. “He did say he fixed your door yesterday. It shouldn’t be sticking anymore.”
Dani cracks the tiniest smile, but it vanishes quickly as Evelyn herds us into our seats.
“Please, sit and eat.”
Dani and I ease into our appointed chairs, Evelyn and Nicole planted on the opposite side of the table. Feels like the perfect set-up.
“Coffee?” Evelyn asks me. “It’s your favorite brand.”
“Yes, please.”
She pours a dark, fragrant stream from a silver carafe into my cup as birds chatter deep within the enormous willow trees flanking either side of the deck. The long tendrils sway hypnotically in the hot breeze. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday, with a killer view and surrounded by a crew of bad-ass ladies. Imperial Evelyn, tiara tucked into her beehive. What I’m guessing is a gender-fluid Nicole, country chic in dusty overalls and Birkenstocks.
And sweet Dani. Far less skin on display this morning, but she’s just as hot semi-clothed.
Maybe hotter.
“I love that your winery is pro-woman, Evelyn,” I say. “From what I’ve heard, that’s rare.”
A smile lights up her face. “I’m proud to be a trailblazer,” she says. “Nicole has one of the finest noses in the biz, and Dani’s creative genius ups our brand game. Have you seen the labels she created?”
“She hasn’t shown me anything.”
Under the table, I gently nudge my knee against Dani’s. It’s a just-between-us move, lighthearted and meant to be imperceptible, but Dani jumps in her chair as if I’d smacked her. The table shakes, ice cubes clinking in our water glasses.
Evelyn raises an eyebrow, curious, as she and Nicole silently gauge the friction that’s poked up. Dani’s eyes flash on mine—a not-so-subtle message of don’t you dare go there— before she seizes the momentum back.
“I didn’t want to overload you on day one.” She smiles sweetly, impressively pro.
“Well, you have to take a look,” Evelyn insists. “They’re utterly gorgeous. And you told me last night that you like to draw in your spare time. Why not have our two creatives gab about their respective inspirations? Start with breakfast while I grab my tablet.”
Dani reaches for her arm. “They can wait. Let’s eat first.”
“Nonsense!” Evelyn swats Dani’s hand away.“The reason you’re here today is because of those labels. Tell Rhys your story.He needs to weave it into one of his videos. And remember, your success is my success.”
As our eccentric host and her giant bed sheet of a dress swirl away into the house,I turn to Dani and don’t try to hide my interest. “Okay, let’s hear it. I’m intrigued.”
Nicole settles into her chair like a movie is about to start. “This is so classic.”
Dani’s quiet for a few seconds, slowly succumbing to the fact she’s outnumbered.After what sounds like a steadying breath, she starts, “I lost my job a few weeks ago. In the process of drowning my sorrows in a bottle of The Emperor ?—”
“That’s our flagship Cabernet Sauvignon,” Nicole interjects. “It’s what the kids call lit .”
“I had this vision, how to rebrand Evelyn’s wines,” Dani continues. “Tying everything into Nero and Rome. I fired up my laptop and got busy in Photoshop. At three in the morning, I said, ‘Screw it. These look great.’ I sent the labels and my resume to Evelyn in what managed to be a coherent email.”She laughs at the memory. “Probably should have slept on it.”
I nod, liking every word. “That’s an impressive origin story.”
“Necessity is the mother of invention, right?”
Dani shrugs like drunk-emailing an employer is how she rolls every day. The most my drunken nights have amounted to are sloppy hand jobs and a blistering morning hangover. But I heardhow her voice hitched after admitting she lost her job. Last night’s version sounded like the career pivot happened on her terms.
Evelyn rejoins us, wielding an iPad she hands off to me. “Take a gander and tell me these are not groundbreaking.”
“I don’t know about groundbreaking, ” Dani hedges. “They’re different. But sometimes that’s a good thing.”
What snags my attention is the assault of color. Supersaturated pinks and dreamy blues frame a young Roman god in the clouds, casting his gaze down to the words Pink Pearl Rosé.
“ Rosé, for goddesses and gods ,” I read the tagline aloud. “Genius. Did you come up with that?”
Dani returns my smile, hers a little shy. “I created all the images and taglines.”
“Flip through the others,” Evelyn encourages me. “ The Emperor is my favorite.”
Every label is a mini work of art. And the wine names riff on Nero's closest, most scandalous relationships and rumors. O, Claudia, The Queen’s Cabernet Franc is named after his first wife, Claudia. His tutor and my man Seneca is immortalized as Seneca Syrah — Philosophy in a glass. Her sly reference to Nero’s alleged attempt to burn down Rome so he could build a sprawling estate is reimagined as Golden House Chardonnay— Build it and they will come.
I side-eye Dani with a new layer of respect. Hands down, you would gravitate to these labels if you spotted them amongst a sea of regulars. But the bigger factor in my admiration? The realization that we could have an in-depth conversation about Nero. When I brought up the Roman Empire sitting in the hot tub with Myla, the only thing she knew about Rome was how to find the Prada store.
“No offense, Evelyn,” I say, “but these are way better than what you have now.”
She beams like a proud mother. “You’re preaching to the converted. Why do you think I snapped up Dani ASAP?”
Dani leans closer to point out details, and it’s profoundly unbelievable how my focus craters. A mental image of her wrapped only in her deeply sensual perfume invades my brain, all the electric and wild damage we could create.And how much longer does she plan to terrorize my arm, the warm swell of her breast languishing against it like it’s no big deal?
“The first case of rebranded rosé arrived last week,” Dani says. “The bottles will be front and center during the photo shoot on Friday.”
She reaches for a cherry, and with the fruit trapped between her full lips, pops the stem off. I shift in my chair, feeling the effect of that more than I should.
“On that note,” Evelyn says. “Have you heard from Luca? He sent some bizarre text the other day. Half Spanish gibberish. I told him to call you.”
Before Dani can reply, her phone vibrates on the table. She glances at it, her features etching into a frown. “How weird is that? It’s him.”
“Oh, god,” Evelyn mutters. “If he’s calling on a Sunday, it can’t be good news.”
I’ve shot twice with Luca da Silva, the current enfant terrible of the fashion world. His brand consists of drama dialed up to twenty, flagrant hand gestures, and pushing the creative envelope. And last-minute changes that annoy the hell out of everyone.
Dani picks up with a friendly tone. “Hola, senor. Your ears must be burning. We were just talking about you.”
The smile slowly slides off her face, and we can all hear the impassioned ranting leaking from her phone.
“What?” Dani’s voice ratchets an octave higher. “You’re flying in today? But the shoot isn’t until…”
She’s reduced to listening, eyes flicking up to meet Evelyn’s in a secret discussion. “Hold on, Luca. Hold on. Evelyn’s right here. Let me run this past her.”
With her phone pressing tight against her shoulder, she whispers, “He says his agent double-booked him. Tomorrow is his window."
Evelyn rolls her eyes. “Ask him if he needs more money to make Friday stick.”
Dani slides the phone to her ear. “Hi again. Evelyn wants to know if an increase in compensation will make any difference?”
Dani bears the brunt of another verbal tirade, nodding and repeating, “Okay, okay. And there’s no way to push this? No. You’re fully booked.” She flashes a look of defeat at Evelyn. “Okay. It is what it is. You and Vigo arrive tonight, and we shoot tomorrow at nine a.m.” Her hand tightens around the phone. “Thanks for letting us know. I better jump on this. The hotels. Yes, thanks. Ciao, ciao.”
She hangs up, dumping her phone on the table with a frustrated sigh.
“That didn’t sound good,” I say.
“Is Yvette cool if we shoot at her house tomorrow?” Dani asks Evelyn.
“We had a shamanic practitioner booked for our rose quartz sound bath, but we’ll have to cancel. Unbelievable,” she grouses to no one in particular, “this happens with him all the time. What about the other model?”
Dani rockets to attention in her chair. “Oh, shit! I better email and check her availability.”
“Can I help with anything?” I was secretly hoping to hit the lake with her after brunch. Mostly hoping to see her in a bikini.
“Thanks for the offer, but it’s all logistics.” She stands abruptly, the chair scraping across the concrete. Brain already on the unfolding disaster. “Enjoy brunch. I need to get ahead of this.”
“If Luca’s original model pick isn’t available, you have my authority to choose someone else,” Evelyn lays down the law. “We don’t have time to go back and forth.”
Dani turns to Nicole. “Are you cool if we reschedule you and Rhys for Tuesday?”
“Whatever works for the team,” she says, calmly pouring herself a coffee.
Nicole isn’t easily riled is the impression I get. If a term could define a person, she has a lock on no-nonsense . And I still feel her less-than-impressed look from earlier.
“I’ll check in with you later, okay?” Dani touches my shoulder and excuses herself.
With the best part of brunch striding away, some shine comes off my morning.Evelyn reminds me to eat, and I help myself to the buffet, including a handful of cherries. The idea of feeding them to Dani while her tongue wraps seductively around the firm flesh becomes a disturbingly clear picture in my mind.
And here I thought her pearls were the only thing to torment me.
Evelyn helps herself to eggs and bacon with a look of relief. “Good thing Dani’s on this. Nothing will fall through the cracks.”
“Those labels are next level,” I say. “I’m telling you right now, they’re going to hit.”
“Don’t tell Dani I said this,” Evelyn starts, her voice dropping low as she leans across the table, “but thank god she split with her jackass boyfriend. You know what they say? Heartbreak always fuels the best creativity. Just ask Taylor Swift.”
I immediately feel better, and a little lighter in my soul. Dani made me suffer before she accepted my friend request this morning. As soon as she did, I skimmed through her feed to check for dudes. Not a man in sight, thankfully. Her posts were the usual random assortment of photos—her in and around Vancouver and a few snaps of her blonde sister, who, while cute, is nowhere near Dani-level beautiful.
My unspoken rule? Never post photos of the women I’ve dated. Number one, my phone would burst into flames from the onslaught of enraged DMs from fans. Number two, inevitably the run is short-term—me having to flee another Crazy. Why bother capturing those fleeting memories?
“By the way,” Nicole waves a finger at Evelyn, “I ran into Tomas at the drugstore yesterday. He followed me like a shadow, grumbling about our ‘douchebag clients who buy cliché wine.’ That you and I have bribed our way to success.”
Evelyn shakes her head in a way that indicates a long, painful topic she’d rather avoid. “He’s a walking tragedy, bitter until the day he dies. Even though he’s technically family, sometimes I wish he would drop off the face of the earth.”
“Who are you talking about?” I ask.
“My first husband’s brother,” Evelyn says tiredly. “Tomas was the runt of the litter and lost his marbles when his family’s estate was transferred to my husband, and, by default, me. The eldest child always takes over the farm. That’s how it works.”
“He’s been on a multi-year mission to take Evelyn down,” Nicole adds. “So far, unsuccessful.”
“That doesn’t stop him from trying.” Evelyn grunts her disgust, and I can tell this is more than a sore spot. Bad blood usually is. “And how dare he suggest we’re some shoestring operation hawking snake oil. Nicole,” she says to me, “is a magician. When you step into her kingdom on Tuesday, you’ll understand. Our wines win awards because of her.”
I absorb that for a long moment. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you hire me? Sounds like you have the business under control.”
Nicole takes over from here. “Pink Pearl is a newer addition to our collection. We want to make a big splash with it. Last year’s vintage, what we’re selling now, is a dream. The balance is exquisite. My gut says we can sweep all the awards, and a little celebrity endorsement never hurts.”
Her first friendly smile lands with an understanding. “Got it. I position this as the best thing since sliced bread. Cheers to that.”
Nicole and Evelyn lift their wine glasses to touch mine.
“I have a good feeling about our partnership,” Evelyn says warmly. “And I’m so glad you and Dani have bonded.”
Am I imagining the sparkle in the light blue of her eyes? During our meet and greet yesterday, Evelyn mentioned a third husband who had lied about wanting children and apologized by way of a massive inheritance when he passed. After a hysterectomy—a little TMI for me—the daughter she longed for remained forever a pipe dream.
When Dani emailed her out of the blue, Evelyn admitted it struck her as kismet. She felt an immediate kinship with Dani.
No matter how tough a business cookie she is, Evelyn’s latent mother mode has inadvertently frothed to the surface. I suppose she sees me as a viable contender to ensure her (makeshift) daughter falls into good hands because the nugget of information she supplied about Dani’s ex felt like the equivalent of her handing me the baton.
Only a fool wouldn’t run with that intel.