“Shit. Sorry. No. I mean, yes. I mean, I have to go.”
I push past the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, inwardly cursing my apparent lack of social skills. Of course I meet mister tall, dark, and scruffy — basically my kryptonite of a man — on the day I have no time, too much stress, and not enough caffeine to function.
Once I’m back at my car, I allow myself to take a long sip of coffee. The liquid is hot, but not too hot, and I can feel the warmth filling me against the chill outside.
Okay. Must stop thinking about hot men and start thinking about presenting to old men.
I can do this. I can impress the crap out of these winery owners. Even if it does mean spending more time over here, instead of hustling for clients in the city.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll even see mister tall, dark, and scruffy again.
And maybe next time I’ll manage to not make a total fool out of myself.
Chapter three
Finn
Not gonna lie, that was a nice surprise. I casually turn and watch the woman who bumped into me walk away. I never thought pencil skirts were my thing, but turns out when they’re paired with tall boots and curves for days, I can appreciate them. And I wouldn’t normally notice a woman’s hair, but when it cascades halfway down her back in gorgeous golden waves, well, all I can picture is running my hands through it, gripping it tightly and…
“Finn McNeil, stop drooling and get in here. You’re letting the heat out.”
I turn toward Mila’s voice with a wolfish grin. “Who, me? Drool? Never.”
She rolls her eyes and hands over a cup of coffee. The perk of being good friends with a café owner? She knows my order and has it ready each morning. “Thanks, gorgeous. What’ll it take for you to tell me who the beautiful coffee girl is that I happened to bump into?”
Mila brings her hands to her hips, and an enigmatic smile lighting up her face. “I’m not going to tell you.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because. It’ll do you some good to not have everything you want just handed to you on a silver platter.”
“That doesn’t happen,” I scoff, and Mila arches an eyebrow at me. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out myself.”
“Yes, I think you will,” comes her cryptic reply.
I slip some money into the jar Mila uses to collect tips, except, instead of sharing them amongst staff, they donate the money to local charities.
“See ya, Mills.” My parting shot includes the nickname Ethan gave to his sister, which she happens to hate, making it the perfect retaliation for right now.
“Don’t you start, or you’ll lose coffee privileges.”
I raise my hand in surrender as I back up to the door. I’m not messing with my coffee. Without it I won’t make it through a day. Mila’s coffee is the best and she knows it, which makes it a highly effective blackmail tactic. “Okay, okay, sorry. Have a good day, Mila.”
Outside on the sidewalk, I take a sip of coffee and then a bite of the cinnamon scone I chose to go with it. Both are amazing. Mila and I tried dating for a while when we were younger, but it was quickly apparent we made better friends. And thank fuck for that because it’s bad enough having this easy access to her baking. If we were together, I would have to dramatically increase my fitness program to keep up. And going for a run with the guys or hitting the gym a few times a week is all I really care to do right now.
I zip my jacket up higher against the chill in the air. It’s cold today, but the skies are clear, thankfully. That means tonight will be even colder for the Christmas tree lighting. When Ethan first told me this was a thing, I laughed at him. I couldn’t believe any town would be so cliché. But he insisted it was a thing, then went on to tell me that this year there would be real fucking animals in some sort of live nativity scene. The whole idea seems ridiculous to me — small-town charm? More like small-town cheese. But I have to admit, Dogwood Cove has this way of sucking you in and making you never want to leave. It’s not just that we’re in what has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth, with oceans, mountains, lakes, and rivers — everything nature has to offer at our doorstep. It’s also the people. Everyone is so damn friendly and welcoming. Turner, at the hardware store, has been a huge help ordering in specialty parts that our contractor needed for the winery. All of the local restaurants have already agreed to start serving La Lune Rouge wines once we’re up and running. And so many residents have come up to me to tell me how excited they are for the winery to open.
Honestly, it was overwhelming when I first moved here. I couldn’t believe a place like this really existed outside of Hallmark movies.
My phone starts to ring, interrupting me from my rambling thoughts. When I see my mom’s name on it, I smile. Yeah, I’m a total mama’s boy.
“Hey Mom, how’s it goin’?”
“Mon cher, how are you?” Mom’s French accent settles over me. Our weekly phone calls are a constant in my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Good, Mom. Just headed out to meet with Pierre. He’s got someone coming today to discuss design ideas for the tasting room.”
“Ah, that will be wonderful. You’re so close to opening, no?”
