The blonde gave a soft snort, and Chase’s lips twitched as Alexa drew herself up to her full height of four feet eleven.
“You know how many stars the hotel in Mason’s Hill has? Two. Two freaking stars and an alleged roach infestation. What got your goat this morning?”
Deep breaths. “Alexa, you dropped the bomb that you were coming, then went incommunicado.”
Nolan had almost forgotten how exasperating Alexa could be. How she didn’t view the world the way others did. How she saw black and white but not grey, how she felt loyalty but not guilt. How she was determined but stubborn and inflexible, even as she fought the current of fear that underpinned her psyche. Nolan hadn’t come up with that last part—no, that was Grey, who had a minor in psychology as well as a major in political science.
“I told you I’d fix your data issue.”
“Yes, but—” What was the point in arguing? Alexa never backed down, and the copay on his anxiety meds was yet another expense. “Just stay in the damn house, and no, I’m not shutting Juno outside.”
“Well, I’m not sharing space with a dog.”
“It’s her home, not yours. And like I said, there’s a spare cave if you prefer.”
Nolan wasn’t kidding about that. One of Dionysus’s more unusual features was the old gold mine that wound into the hill behind the winery. The seam of gold was long gone, but the old tracks still remained, and a chunk of the Sykeses’ money had been spent on making sure the place was safe. Then, rather than blocking off the entrance, he’d turned the mine into a talking point. Cool and dark, the tunnels and caves provided the perfect space to age barrels of wine, and visitors oohed and aahed over the cavernous, well-lit tasting room, complete with its minimalist decor. Think stainless steel tasting sinks, a white ash table circled by leather stools, and a twinkling chandelier. It was the first space Marielle had styled, and venturing inside was like visiting another world. A short walk took guests from the sunny vineyard into a cool, elegant sanctuary where the wine was the focus. When potential customers balked at the price of a bottle of Dionysus wine, a visit to the tasting room often swayed them in the right direction.
“But—” Alexa started, only to be interrupted by Marielle.
“Antonella Cranston swung by with an invitation to a cookout next Friday. Isn’t that sweet of her? I accepted for the both of us, of course.”
Just when Nolan thought things couldn’t get any worse…
“We’re right in the middle of this year’s harvest.”
“Oh, I understand that, but you have to eat.”
He did, but not at the Cranstons’. Their get-togethers lasted all night, Nolan’s face didn’t really fit among the equestrian set, and he always felt awkward when he tried to leave early.
“Is Antonella still here?”
“Well, no. She was riding that beautiful chestnut stallion of hers, and he didn’t want to stand still.”
So that was another problem to deal with, but it would have to wait until later.
“Could you do me a favour and show Alexa to the guest wing? I’m busy dealing with a crisis here.”
Marielle’s brows pinched. “What crisis?”
“The temperature on this fermenter is too high.”
“So can’t you just turn it down?”
If only it were that straightforward… “It doesn’t work that way.”
“The yeast gets stressed and dies,” Alexa surprised him by saying. They’d been trading wine facts for a week, but Nolan hadn’t mentioned the logistics of fermentation.
“So you can add more, right?”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “That depends on whether you want your wine to taste like soy sauce.”
Marielle just looked puzzled. “Can I help with anything?”
Yes, she could stop stencilling gold leaves on the tiles in his fucking shower and prioritise finishing the second guest cottage. Nolan forced himself to take a deep breath before he spoke. “Yes, you can show Alexa to the guest wing, and then feed the chickens.”
“The…chickens?”
“You just need to throw them some grain from the bin over there.”
