“If I get together with friends, it’s usually on a golf course, and it’s usually bourbon and cigars. Can we be a Martinis with Friends club? Or is that gauche?”
She laughed. “I would of course have to check the bylaws of Wine with Friends, but I think we could swing it.”
“So what are the rules of the Wine with Friends club? How do you sign up?”
Amy looked at him like he was joking. “Seriously? You don’t sign up,Harrison. You call your friends and tell them to meet you at the wine bar in Willow Valley and bring some cold hard cash, because you’ve got some hot goss to share.”
“Hot what?”
“Goss.” She blushed a little. “That’s what my oldest son calls gossip, and he would die if he heard me say that in conversation with another adult. Do you have kids?”
He shook his head.
“Really?” she said, sounding quite surprised. “Well, that explains it.”
He didn’t know what that supposedly explained and was a little afraid to ask. He was aware that men his age were currently probably trying to figure out how to pay a kid’s college tuition. He was the odd one in the no-kids department.
“If you don’t have friends, what do you do for fun?” she asked.
“I have friends,” he said, perhaps a smidge defensively, because, in fact, he did not have close friends. The closest was Jake Rizzo, who was also his caddy. Jake had a family, a life in Omaha. “But we don’t do anything as cool as hanging in a wine bar with attractive women.”
“Who said anything about the women being attractive?”
“My apologies. I assumed your friends are like you, which would make them attractive.”
Amy snorted. “Right,” she said with the drawl of a woman who wasn’t falling for a line.
“Hey, I don’t mean in a plastic way. I mean, like, in a teacher way. You know. Women.” And he didn’t know why he said that, either, other than she reminded him of Mrs. Portland, his eighth-grade math teacher and subject of many nocturnal dreams.
But that was also wrong, because Amy put her glass down and folded her arms across her chest. “In ateacherway? What the hell does that mean?”
“What? Is that an insult?”
“Of course not! Not really! I mean, teachers are awesome. Some of mybest friends are teachers. Some of my wine friends are teachers. But I’m not one, and I’m wondering what about my face screams teacher to you?”
He laughed. “It’s not your face, it’s your eyes. You have kind eyes.”
She blinked. A charming smile slowly appeared on her lips, and he was beginning to think that maybe the only thing she looked was hot. “I see what you did there,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “You’re a player, aren’t you, Harrison? It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you as long as you make martinis like this.”
“You think I’m a player?” he asked, pointing at himself. “I’m not a player. I think I’ve proven that in spades in the last five minutes.”
“Yeah, right,” she said, smiling skeptically. “That’s what all the players say. So come on, what is a guy like you doing way out here in the middle of nowhere, really?”
“What do you mean, a guy like me, and what are you really asking?”
“I mean a guy,” she said, pointing her finger and making a circular motion at him. “An athletic, handsome guy without a wedding ring.”
Harrison felt a little heat creep into his nape. “I’m flattered.”
“An athletic, handsome, and very much alone guy without a wedding ring.”
“Ouch,” he said with a wince.
“Sorry,” she said nonchalantly, and took another sip of her drink. “If I had to guess, and apparently, I will have to, I’m guessing you’re a rich guy with no responsibilities. But that doesn’t explain whyhere.”
Hewasa rich guy with no responsibilities. “What’s wrong with here?”
“Like I said, here is nowhere. Athletic, handsome, alone in the middle of nowhere. Kind of a red flag.”
