“DePietro must have taken out so much insurance against this fountain. Look at this thing.”
“You’re always talking about liability. Were you a lawyer in a past life or something?”
Ani flushed, because she wasn’t exactly. Her sister was the lawyer, corporate and successful. Ani had been the lawyers’ servant and whipping boy, and her office was a rundown, badlymanaged firm that dealt with complex litigation, usually in the torts realm. So yes, she was always thinking about liability and how to avoid a nasty lawsuit. In her line of business, it was good to think that way. Weddings were full of potential disasters, beyond just the groom unexpectedly smashing cake into the bride’s face. Put a bunch of people in a room with an open bar and candles and wine glasses and sparklers, and injury is imminent.
“I was a paralegal, actually.”
“What? But you’re a wedding planner.Thewedding planner, in my mind.”
Ani smiled at that, warmth blooming in her cheeks. “Thewedding planner.” His words settled onto her like embers, small but glowing, sneaking past her defenses before she could swat them away. “Thanks, but yeah, I really was. Broke away from it four years ago and started the wedding planning business from scratch.”
Raffi regarded her with something like awe. “That’s a huge change.”
She shrugged. “You know a thing or two about huge changes.”
“But I was always in school, and school was always being paid for. And the winery? I didn’t start it from scratch. It was handed to me.” He shot her a look, one brow slightly raised. “As someone may have pointed out to me the day we met.”
Ani’s stomach twisted. God. Had she really said that? To his face? She cleared her throat, suddenly very interested in the stitching on her sleeve. “Ah. Yeah. That…may have been me.”
Raffi smirked but didn’t push. “You, meanwhile, took an actual risk.”
“Maybe,” she said, ducking her head slightly, hiding a smile.
Then, grasping for a shift in conversation before her embarrassment could fully settle in, she looked around and asked, “Speaking of risk, do you see the potential pitfalls here?”
He waved off her concerns, peering over the edge of the fountain. “We won’t make it as ridiculously deep, and we’ll raise the wall so guests can’t tumble in.” He gestured to the low, very trippable wall. “It’ll be great. Distinct from DePietro’s but in a similar style.”
“Sure, but think about how it’s going to look overall. It has to be backed up against the winery, and it’s going to distract from all the other elements in the garden. You want something that flows—literally—with the rest of the garden’s vibe.”
“If we’re building a fountain anyway, shouldn’t we make it as showy as possible?”
“You are so Armenian.”
“And you are so Americanized.”
Ani smirked. “Hey, my entire career is to make one day of everyone’s life as opulent as possible.”
“Touché,” Raffi conceded.
“I don’t need my house to look like Versailles, though,” Ani continued, “and you don’t need your winery to, either. Come, look at these.”
She directed Raffi toward a separate water feature, where the fountains flowed alongside the walkway, forming a path.
“I was thinking more like these, but around the ceremony area where the dome is. Could make it really stand out and delineate it from the rest of the garden.”
He seemed to consider her words, when a woman’s voice rang out. “Raffi? Is that—yes, it’s you!”
A slender blonde woman in a tight-fitting, cleavage-showing power dress rushed toward him and embraced him in a way that made Ani’s blood pressure rise.
“Oh, hey,” Raffi said, his body going a little too still, like someone bracing for impact. He gave a half-hearted pat on her back, the kind that suggested he wasn’t sure how long this was supposed to last. His huge sunglasses still covered his eyes.
“I haven’t seen you since that mixer at the Langstons’. You know…”
Raffi coughed. “That was a while back.”
“I know! Where have you been hiding, mister?”
That “mister” was when Ani strode away. Clearly, this was a woman Raffi had slept with. Model pretty, bubbly, the drip of money all over her. The type he went for.
