8. Max
Izipped out of Isabella’s place with a plan in motion, taking the tunnels through the city to make sure my car was prepped for our little adventure. While she got herself ready, I swung by the store, picking up an arsenal of road trip essentials—snacks that ranged from the healthy to the decidedly not-so-much. It was all about balance, after all. Tossing bags of chips, fruit, and a couple of indulgent treats into the backseat, I made my way through the dense NewYorkCity traffic back to Isabella.
AsI pulled my car up to the curb, her front door opened, and I had to actively lessen the joy that spread over my face at the sight of her. Isabella walked down the front steps, a tote bag full of our fancy chocolates in hand, and sunglasses on her face. The sun was shining, and her hair was a mass of unruly curls, but the sundress.
Werewomen aware of what they looked like in sundresses? Did they know when the sunlight catches the fabric the right way, you can see the outline of their hips? Did they know how many times we’d imagine sliding the hem of that dress up to discover what was underneath? How we wanted to bunch up the fabric in our fists?
Ishook my head as I walked around to the side of the car to open my door. I pasted a friendly smile on my face, hoping like hell I could hide the lust I felt in my eyes.
“Can we start today over, Boss?” Isabella asked quietly, handing him a to-go cup of coffee. Goddamn, her calling me boss, even though she did it to be funny, sent blood straight down to my dick.
Icleared my throat, took the mug, and nodded, walking back to the driver’s side before sliding in.
“Before you get too bossy about the inevitable car rules you probably have,” she said as she settled in the passenger seat, “I brought snacks and made us a playlist.”
“I don’t have car rules,” I said as I finally looked her in the eyes.
Isabellasquinted at me, angling down her chin slightly. “As bossy as you are, you definitely have car rules.”
“I don’t—no feet on the dash,” I said as she went to rest her feet, “have car rules,” I finished as I buckled my seat belt.
“See! You can’t even help yourself.” She chuckled, but she kept her feet on the dash.
“It’s just not safe, Isabella. If someone were to hit us, both of your legs would break on the impact. I don’t consider that a rule if I’m just trying to keep your legs in one piece.”
“Youwould want to keep my legs in one piece, wouldn’t you?” Isabella joked, but this time she slid her feet back down to the floorboard.
Ididn’t try to hide my smirk when she glanced over at me this time. I said nothing, but enough passed through my glance that she turned away. I flicked on the turn signal and pulled away from the curb. Today was about to test us both.
“Okay, Ms. BragAbout the Playlist, what’ve you got for us?” I asked as we made our way out of the city. The traffic was surprisingly light today and before long we’d be out of the congested part and onto the wider highway.
Isabellalaughed and bounced in her seat, pulling out her phone and connecting it to the car’s Bluetooth. She tapped the screen a couple of times before I heard the first song come through the speaker and I groaned.
“Ifyou get to torture me with 2000s emo punk music every night then you get to listen to 2000s pop all day today,” she said as she grinned wide. The lyrics to “Toxic”blared through the speaker.
Ishook my head but smiled as Isabella belted out the lyrics next to me. Unbeknownst to her, I knew every word to every 2000s pop song. I’d grown up in a house full of older sisters who were ruthless in their girlhood.
Sowhen “Case of the Ex”by Mya came on and I belted out the bridge I laughed at the absolute shock on Isabella’s face.
“Were you a DJ in another life or something?” she asked, turning down the music a bit.
Ilaughed. “No, just partially raised by three bossy older sisters. This playlist is basically the soundtrack to my childhood.”
“Okay, so Britney or Christina?” Isabella asked, turning in her seat a bit to look at me.
“Ah, ah, you don’t put two queens against each other. Christina’s voice, especially on that Mulan soundtrack, was unbeatable. But, I absolutely believe the theory that they made Britney baby her voice so she’d sound different. I think she can sing just as well.”
“Okay, who are you?” Isabella asked in disbelief as she shook her head and scrolled to select the next song.
Weended up getting through a bunch of *NSYNC, TLC, MariahCarey, and even some Aaliyah before I pulled off the highway at our exit. The car bounced along the pothole-filled off-ramp. A small sign let us know the winery was a mile and a half to the left.
Ourtires crunched on the gravel as we turned onto the windy road leading to the vineyard. A large stone sign announced our arrival at LindenHollowVineyards. The drive up to the property was flanked by rows and rows of grape vines, currently lush and green for the season.
Inthe heart of the acreage sat a stone chateau, reminiscent of classic French wineries. Ivy crept up the walls and large, wooden barrels lined the porch, no doubt filled to the brim with wines. Kitschy signs and grape décor hung above the door, welcoming guests inside. I hoped we’d be able to find something suitable for the event here. Rooting for the underdog was one thing, but trying to convince a wine lover like Isabella, who was accustomed to specific tastes, was another.
Itook a deep breath as I turned the large brass knob and stepped inside the lobby, a bell ringing as the door swung open. I guided Isabella inside, my hand hovering above her lower back.
“Welcome, folks! Come on in, are you here for a tasting?” An older woman stood behind the counter spanning the entire length of the room. She wore an apron over her striped button-up, her hair in a messy bun at the top of her head.
“Hi!” Isabella greeted her enthusiastically. “Yes, we’re here to hopefully fall in love with some wines. We have an event coming up that my boss here is kinda freaking out about.” She whispered the last part, cupping my hand over the side of her mouth like I couldn’t hear her.
Shefollowed me up to the counter to read through the menu of what wines they had available. Isabella filled the woman in on the upcoming event and what types of wines we were looking for. She surprised him when she reached into her purse and pulled out a small box of chocolates.
“I brought the lemon-infused white chocolate that will pair with the Chardonnay and the spiced milk chocolate caramel that will pair with the Syrah. That way we can know if they’ll work perfectly,” she said.
“You had these chocolates in your purse the whole time and you made me snack on gummy worms on the drive down?” I teased.
“Somehow, I think you’ll live,” she said.
Thewoman behind the counter, Kerry, started pulling bottles for them to sample. “A little wine will calm any lovers’ quarrel with the first sip,” she said with a smirk.
Ikept quiet, waiting for Isabella to correct her, but she just smiled. I wanted to slide my hand around her lower back and had to physically stop myself from doing it.
Theyhad a few options for each wine I wanted to replace, so now we just had to cross our fingers they’d be good enough for the event. Kerry got us set up with some samples of our preferred wines but threw in some additional options for fun.
Shecreated a spread with glasses, chocolates, and some palate-cleansing crackers and set us up on the back patio. The wrought iron table and chairs overlooked the hills of the vineyard, and it was truly stunning.
“Even though you forced me to come here, this is really beautiful,” Isabella said as she picked up the first glass of wine to sample.
Ichuckled. “I don’t remember forcing you, but I am glad you came.” We locked eyes for a second and I smiled. “Now, what does your refined palate think of this wine?”
Ipicked up the Chardonnay, swirled the liquid, noting the legs, took a deep inhale, and held the glass up to the light before taking a tiny sip. Isabella mimicked my movements before taking a small sip herself.
“It’s . . . buttery. Almost like toast.” She took another sip. “It’s thicker than normal but really good.”
Ismiled. “Well, the ‘toast’ taste is likely because it underwent malolactic fermentation and was aged in toasted oak barrels. The malic acid, naturally found in grape must, is converted to softer lactic acid by bacteria. This process not only softens the wine’s acidity but also introduces flavors reminiscent of butter or cream.”
“Show-off.” Isabella teased.
“I’m sorry, it probably sounds like I’m mansplaining wine to you, but this does actually help a ton for me to be ready for the exam,” I said.
“It doesn’t come across as condescending, I promise. I can tell you’re really just a wine nerd, that’s all,” Isabella said, smiling.
Wesampled the next Chardonnay, both immediately preferring the first, before trying them both again with the chocolates.
“You truly prefer this one?” I asked as I sipped the Chardonnay we both seemed to prefer.
“Yes, truly, and yes, I think other rich-ass people will too,” she said, bringing up my description of our members earlier.
Iwinced and said, “I’m sorry about that comment.”
“It’s fine.” She shrugged. “Most of those rich-ass people care more about the label anyways.”
“That’s what I’m worried about with this event,” I confessed, reaching for the Syrah so we could taste it next. “I’m afraid they’ll judge the wine if they don’t recognize the vineyard.”
“Then don’t tell them. Have that be a part of the event. Have them speculate where they think it originates from and surprise them at the end. They might be more bought that way,” she said.
“That’s brilliant, Isabella. Get them in love with the wine for the taste then maybe they’ll care about getting it in front of more people.” I could feel the excitement building for the event now, not just nerves.
Ipoured us each a sample of the next wine and we clinked glasses. It only took seven sips, four nibbles on the caramel, and long moments of quiet pondering for me to decide on the second Syrah as the winner.
Ifelt immediate relief once I’d settled on the wines to complement two of the chocolates. I had some ideas for which wines could pair well with the others, but those vineyards were more like a plane ride away, so I’d order a few bottles so we could taste them here.
“Okay, so I feel like I totally rained on your event-planning parade,” I said as we both cleansed our palates with some oyster crackers. “How’s everything else coming together?”
Ididn’t miss how Isabella’s face lit up as she walked me through some of the setup she and Emma had planned for upstairs. I was dizzy thinking about all the details she was already mapping out. From floral to signage to hand-delivered invitations. She was going to make this event magical.
“You seem like you really love this part. The event planning. Dom talked to you about having it be part of your official job description, right?” I asked.
Isabellashrugged. “Yeah, he did. I think that’s also why I got so carried away. I really wanted to impress him—and you.”
“From what I’ve seen, you more than have what it takes to excel,” I said.
“Maybe,” she replied.
Downto our last wine, we took a walk through the vineyards. The summer sun beat down hot on us as we made our way across the lawn. Rows and rows of grape vines wrapped around thick wire trellises. The expanse of the rolling hills made me feel like I was in another world instead of being outside of the concrete jungle of NewYork.
“You know that whatever you want to do with your career, or whatever, doesn’t have to be earth-shattering,” I said. “I didn’t mean to force you to turn something you like doing for fun into a job.” Isabella had been quiet for a while, perhaps lost in thought.
“No, it’s not that.” She placed her hand on my forearm as she spoke. I loved that she kept finding ways to touch me as she opened up. “I just . . . everyone else in my life seems to have always known exactly where they want to live, what they want to do, who they want to be with, and I . . . just don’t.”
Istopped walking and turned to face Isabella. “No one says that you have to. Now or ever.”
Herface was soft when she said, “SometimesI just wish someone would tell me what to do. That someone would just take the pressure of making the decision off my plate for me.”
Ismiled down at her. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who wanted to be told what to do.”
“I don’t know, it sounds nice sometimes,” she said.
Herhand was still on my elbow, my skin felt hot under her fingertips. Her neck and cheeks were flushed a bit from the wine, and I wondered what her lips tasted like. I bet the warmth of the tannins could still be tasted on her tongue. Isabella tilted her chin up slightly; it was so subtle I could’ve missed it.
Ileaned my head down slowly and kept leaning down when she didn’t stop me. I could see her teeth behind the part of her lips and, god, I bet her mouth was warm. My eyes scanned hers for permission, but her own gaze was locked on my mouth.
“Do you mind taking our picture?” The drunken request came from a girl who was already staggering in her heels on the lawn. Her friends all huddled up together against the grapes as a backdrop. The moment was sucked up in a vortex and thrown across the world.
“Oh, of course!” Isabella let out a breath, reached out for the outstretched phone, and turned away. She helped arrange the group of giddy girls and started snapping a few photos.
Istepped back a bit. I was that close to kissing her. And she had been that close to letting me.