“Thanks.”
I push off of my car, and gesture to hers. “Try turning on your engine now.”
She slides in and turns the key, and her car comes to life instantly. “Thank you.” She steps back out and comes to the front where I’m detaching the cables. I close the hood of her car and the hood of mine and toss the cables into my backseat.
When I turn around, she’s standing in front of me, twisting the cuff of my hoodie in her hands. It’s so large on her it swallows her up, but it also stirs something in me, an unfamiliar emotion I don’t want to pay too much attention.
“Here, let me give you your sweatshirt back.”
“Keep it ‘til we get home.”
She nods and her tongue darts out to moisten her lips and my eyes zero in on it.
“Ashley…” I don’t know what I want to say or do right now, but my hand drifts up toward her face.
But she steps back, and she won’t meet my gaze. My hand drops.
“Right, well, thanks again, Finn. See you later.” She’s in her car before I can say anything, and the next thing I know, I’m staring at her taillights.
I don’t drive straight home. Instead, I drive around town, giving her time to get home and settled before I arrive. She made herself perfectly clear tonight. Ashley isn’t interested.
Point taken.
Chapter fourteen
Ashley
When I drove away from Finn last night, I could have sworn he seemed disappointed. There is not one thing on earth that confuses me more than that man. The entire drive back to our Airbnb I stewed on the hot and cold, back and forth, completely messed up attention he keeps giving me. One minute he’s flirting and moving to touch me, the next he’s telling me he can’t do this — whatever this is. For Christ’s sake, it’s not like I’m asking him to marry me, just maybe not leave me so damn sexually frustrated every time I’m around him. It’s as if my libido is directly connected to him, and the second he’s in my periphery, I go nutso. Like damp panties, heart pounding, salivating nutso. Of course, so far he’s managed to douse that fire pretty damn quickly with his childish behavior. We’re not in high school anymore, and this back and forth behavior is ridiculous.
The truth is, I’m fed up. As much as I’ve found myself seriously considering moving to Dogwood Cove, taking Tom up on his offer to partner, and making a new life over here…Finn and his mixed messages have me reconsidering. Not that I would actually base a life decision on a man, but still. The thought of seeing him all the time and having to fight my attraction to him isn’t all that appealing.
But where does that leave me? I’ll be done with the tasting room in a couple more weeks, and I’ve got nothing waiting for me on the mainland except my dad. Over here, there’s the promise of a job, there’s new friends, and there’s a peaceful life I never thought I would enjoy as much as I have been.
And then there’s Finn.
Damn that fine-ass man.
Today the three of us, Pierre, Finn, and myself, are meeting at another winery to take a look at a bottle display rack they have for sale. I would have simply purchased it myself, but Pierre wanted to accompany me and talk with the other winery owner, and he’s apparently convinced Finn to come along. Pierre is on board with my sustainable practice, especially once I explained to him that I refinish used items to make them unique to the space. Finn, with his tight grip on his wallet, should be happy as well, but when I mentioned we were going to look at some used items, he grimaced. Seriously, there’s no pleasing the man.
The drive to the other winery takes an hour, and I’m really glad I insisted on driving myself. The idea of being trapped in a car for this long with Finn, given how frustrated I am with him right now, is more than I could handle. What even was that last night? The way he said my name, with what sounded suspiciously like desire in his voice — he wasn’t playing fair.
This location we’re visiting is downsizing, which is why they’re selling off some of the equipment. Apparently, the owner is getting older and can’t run it anymore. Part of me wonders if Pierre is considering it for another investment and that’s why he wants to meet with the owner, but then again his hands are pretty full with La Lune Rouge. Still, there’s no denying the beauty of this place, with rolling hills and fields of vines, even in the grey late winter light. Patches of snow are still on the ground, dotting the landscape with white.
“Climate change is hitting this place pretty hard.”
I startle at Finn’s words, not realizing he had come up beside me.
“What do you mean?”
He leans against the fence casually. “Grapes are picky. Fickle about things like soil and ambient temperature. It affects when they ripen, and when you have to harvest.” Finn gestures to the fields in front of us. “It can even affect the quality of the grapes and the varietals you can consistently produce.”
“Is that why you don’t grow very many grapes at La Lune Rouge?” I ask. I’ve been curious about that ever since I started learning about winemaking. Estate wines can be more marketable because they’re exclusive to that winery. But from what little I understand, Finn and Pierre are purchasing their raw juice from vineyards in the Okanagan, located in the interior part of British Columbia. Its an area rich in wineries and vineyards, producing a lot of amazing wines.
“Partly, yes. We don’t have a lot of land at La Lune Rouge, and in order to produce enough grapes of enough varieties to really have a full complement of wines, we’d need about five times the space we currently have. And the climate on Vancouver Island is tricky to work with. The vineyards we’re purchasing from are well established and produce incredible grapes year after year.” He shrugs. “It’s the best option to get our wines out there quickly.”
“But don’t you want to someday have your own wine that you produce from start to finish?”
A solemn look comes over Finn’s face. It’s an expression I’ve never seen on him before, and I wait quietly until he’s ready to answer.
