As much as she hated to admit it, Elliot had been right to hire Luke. Other than that whole sleeping-with-him thing, he’d been great since he started, with nothing to complain about, and this was another example of it. No panic, and he already knew what needed to be done to get ready for the day.
“I’ll print out the menus if you get the dishwasher,” she said. “I’ll be around all day, so I can help out. I have a few calls later so you might be the only one in here on and off. But obviously, if anything comes up, just buzz me or come find me.”
He nodded, a worried look coming over his face.
“Okay, will do. Just . . . chardonnay is the yellowish one, right?”
She felt a brief moment of panic before she saw that tiny crinkle in his eyes. She laughed out loud, and he did, too.
“I almost got you. Admit it.”
She tried to tuck away her smile, but it was impossible.
“You did. What can I say, I’m not at my best this early in the morning.”
He met her eyes and opened his mouth before he shook his head and closed it.
She blushed and turned away. She hated how much she wanted to know what he was about to say.
“Okay,” she said, looking at the computer. “There’s a party of four at eleven. But that’s it until noon, when there’s a party of three and one of four. And then nothing until two, so you can let them linger. But I’ll be in and out all afternoon to help out. And really, don’t hesitate to let me know if you need me.”
He nodded.
“Thanks, Margot. Will do. I think I’ll be okay in here—between you, Taylor, and Elliot, I’ve been well trained over the past few weeks.”
She laughed. They certainly didn’t leave anything to chance with their employees.
“True. But thanks for stepping up, nonetheless.”
She smiled at him, and he grinned back at her. She suddenly realized they were alone in here. She turned away and slipped through the staff-only door and back to her office.
Thank goodness she had these calls today to keep her busy so she couldn’t stay in the tasting room with Luke all day to help out. God, why was she so drawn to this man? It wasn’t his looks—yes, Luke was definitely attractive, but she’d never found that sort of tall, scruffy, nerdy type all that appealing before. She tended to like the clean-cut, well-put-together vibe a lot better. But there was just something about Luke.
At least Luke didn’t know how much she was drawn to him, how much she thought about him. Well, she hoped he didn’t know that. And she thought about that night far too often, especially when she couldn’t sleep and she let herself remember every second of that night, starting from the kiss outside the Barrel, and then that silent, tense, anticipatory walk back to his place, and then that kiss at his front door. She especially let herself remember the way his fingers had brushed against her nipples, and then lingered; the way they’d slipped inside of her, later on the bed, followed by his tongue, and then—
Shit. No. She couldn’t think about this here, now, of all places. Not with Luke so close. Plus, she really did have that call at eleven, and she had to prep for it. Oh, and she had to print the menus for today, right. She forced herself to put thoughts of Luke to the back of her mind, and turned to her computer.
* * *
LUKE HOPED MARGOT HADN’T noticed his moment of slight—very slight—panic when she’d told him that Taylor was gone for the day and he’d be all alone in the tasting room. He’d wanted to beg Margot to stay in there with him, tell her that he wasn’t ready to do this by himself, but his pride wouldn’t let him.
It wasn’t that the general duties of working in the tasting room were beyond him. He was smart, he could follow directions, he could pour wine; he’d graduated magna cum laude from Stanford, after all. He opened the dishwasher to unload it, but the glasses in there were still dirty. Whoever had closed up the night before must have forgotten to turn it on. He powered it on and went to check the appointments for the day.
This job, for the most part, was a lot of fun. But it was the questions all of these people asked! That’s what had made him bite his lip to keep himself from swearing when Margot had told him he was in charge of the tasting room for today. He’d have to find a way to answer things like how many different kinds of grapes were in each bottle of wine; and where all of those grapes were grown, and if they’d had any issues with smoke taint （a horrifying phrase if he’d ever heard it） because of the fires from the past few years; and how many acres, exactly, of vineyards did the Nobles own; and were their grapes grown elsewhere; and wasn’t this Cab Franc a lot more like a Cab Sauv and really, what was the difference between them; and so many other things. And of course, since he was Black, and a man, and many people who came to the winery knew that the winemaker was Black, and a man, they often assumed he was Elliot, and asked him lots of detailed winemaking questions that didn’t stop even when he’d made it clear that he was neither a winemaker nor a member of the Noble family.