Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
The road eventually dead-ends in the center of the property into a large concrete pad with industrial buildings arranged around it in a semicircle. They’re huge and look new, all except for a small wooden structure on the far left, all on its own.
Sawyer sees me eyeing it. “That’s the vineyard’s original barrel room, but we don’t use it anymore. It’s too hard to control the temperatures in the summer. Not to mention, we’ve expanded some since my grandfather originally built that.”
Expanded some. Hilarious.
“Where’s the new barrel room?”
Sawyer points to one of the large buildings in front of us. “The barrels are all housed in there now.”
I’m drawn back to the old wooden building. “Is it empty?”
“No, we use it as a venue. Ready to go on our tour?”
Ten minutes later, I’ve got my new work boots on, and Sawyer and I are strolling between the rows of grapes as he explains to me the best time to harvest them (on a warm, sunny day after the morning dew has dried), how to tell if they’re ripe (full color, plump berries, and a slight loosening in the cluster), and what they’re looking for the most (sugar content).
“We measure sugar content after fermentation. Higher sugar levels determine higher alcohol levels in the wine. Am I boring you?”
“No,” I respond quickly and genuinely. “It’s interesting. You have to remember who raised me. Wine has a very special place in Queenie’s heart.”
He grins as he toys with one of the grape leaves over his head.
“Can we try one?” I ask. I’ve been tempted to pull a grape off the vine since we started our walk.
He inspects the green cluster near his brow and plucks off the perfect one to hand to me.
“Oh.”
Fresh off the vine, the grape is sweet and tart.
Sawyer’s studying me, watching for my reaction.
“It’s really good. What wine will these make?”
“Chenin Blanc, one of our most popular sellers.”
“I could eat that whole cluster.”
He smiles proudly. “You can have a few more if you want, but I have dinner set up a few yards that way.”
Of course he’s set up a picnic in the vineyard! I’d forgotten for a moment what this is all about: his careful seduction plan. He’s walked me through the romantic grapevines and now the sun is setting just as we reach a picnic table lit by candlelight. Someone has made the effort to chill wine and leave out a cooler. From inside it, Sawyer retrieves a charcuterie board and salads, delicate finger sandwiches and cheesecakes baked right inside mason jars. Our two chairs aren’t positioned on opposite sides of the table but rather side by side so neither of us has to have our back to the sunset.
Wow, this is so well thought out. What’s next from here? Will a trail of rose petals lead me straight to a bed?
“Do you always bring your dates here?” I ask as I allow him to pull out my chair for me.
“Dates?”
“Yeah, the girls you see…”
He scrunches up his face, confused. “Who?”
“Just the girls.” It’s infuriating that he acts like there’s not a line of them he’s left in the dust. “Charlotte, for example.”
He laughs at this. “I’ve never dated Charlotte.”
I roll my eyes and disregard his comment with a wave of my hand. “Whatever you want to call it then. Hooked up with, flirted…god, what is it with guys and labels?”
“There’s nothing to label between Charlotte and me.” I frown at how sincere he sounds. Even more so when he tacks on, “Sorry if that’s disappointing.”
I realize I’m being too conspicuous. I’m showing him my cards, and if Kendra were in my ear, she’d be shouting at me to stop jeopardizing the mission. GET IT TOGETHER, MCCALL. YOU’RE TAKING THIS TOO PERSONALLY!
“Right. Of course.” I smooth a napkin onto my lap. “Well this is really nice. I can tell you’ve gone to a lot of effort.”
Better.
Now, how would a normal date act? Charlotte, for instance, would be beside herself if Sawyer had set up a candlelit vineyard picnic for her. She’d be chatty and complimentary, so I’m chatty and complimentary. She’d be touchy-feely, using any excuse at all to brush her hand against Sawyer’s arm, so I do the same. I hate to admit it, but of course his muscled forearm is divine.
Sawyer leans back in his chair, and with the vineyard behind him, he looks like the king of grapes. He doesn’t need the sunset to cast him in golden light, but it sure doesn’t hurt.
“What?” he asks after I’ve been staring too long. He has the audacity to wipe at his face like that’s the problem.
“Why’d you ask me out?”
The question springs out of me before I truly consider the consequences of hearing his answer.
He unfurls a secretive smile. “Why do you think?”
Probably: he has a mild interest in getting into my pants, and/or I’m an interesting conquest for him because I’m David’s little sister. Either that or I’m just the newest, shiniest object in town.