“You have a dirty mind,” I mutter, grabbing a fry and dipping it in catsup before I point it at him. “Not everything is about f**king, you know. How does Marina put up with your ass day in and day out?”
“Marina loves my ass. And she especially loves my dirty mind.” He waggles his brows at me like a pervert. “And listen to you, the former king of groupies, chastising me like a prude. You sure as hell need to get laid and quick so we can cancel this entire bet once and for all. I’m tired of dealing with your insufferable ass.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” I mutter, shaking my head, concentrating on my lunch. “You’re the one who wanted to have lunch with me in the first place.” He has a point. I’m grumpy as hell because I want Bryn, and she’s turned off the signal completely. It’s like she barely realizes I exist.
I know why though. It’s because of my father. It’s because of that kiss. I regret her having to deal with my dad and the things he said to her. I wish I could’ve protected her from that.
But the kiss? I don’t regret that at all.
“I asked you to lunch so I could find out where your head is at.” He takes a drink from his soda. “So tell me. Did you plan this so-called business trip on purpose to get her in your hotel room or what?”
“Not even,” I scoff, munching on another fry. “We’re attending a conference—and not some phony one either, which I’m sure you’ll accuse me of. I won’t even have time to think about doing anything else except going from workshop to workshop, attend wine tastings and the like. It’s all about the business, my friend. Something you’ve forgotten since you’re too enraptured with your new girlfriend.”
“Says the man taking his obsession with him to New York City so he can do business.” Gage rolls his eyes. “Give me a break, man. We know exactly why you’re taking Bryn with you. To get in her panties.”
Thinking about Bryn in her panties just about gives me a coronary. So many lost opportunities we’ve had in such a short amount of time. Now she acts like she couldn’t give two shits about me.
I hate it. And it’s all my fault so I have no one to blame but myself.
“Definitely not,” I say firmly. “I think she’s over me.”
“Ha!” Gage points at me, his gaze bright and full of triumph. “You admit it; you two are interested in each other.”
“Yeah well, if she was interested in me, she’s definitely not now. She’s back to the efficient, no-nonsense Miss James.”
“I bet she sure is hot though, when she’s the efficient, no-nonsense Miss James,” Gage says with a shit-eating grin.
Jealousy flaring, I throw a fry at him aiming for his face, but he dodges it just in time. “Shut up, dickhead. You’re acting like a child.” What the hell, I feel like lately we’ve reverted to college talk—when we were young and dumb and talked crudely to and about everyone, especially each other.
“Who’s the child here, throwing food and calling me a dickhead?” Gage shakes his head. “I don’t know if any of us are going to survive these new terms. The longer you go without getting some, the grumpier you become. I bet your Miss James lost interest because you’ve become such a tyrant.”
That can’t be the reason. Can it? I doubt it. I think it has something to do with Dad. I have no idea what he said to her; she’s not talking and neither is he. I called him up a few days ago and flat out accused him of saying something shitty to Bryn but he didn’t give an inch.
Leaving me to conclude that he’s guilty as hell.
“The DeLuca Winery is all anyone’s talking about around town,” Gage says, thankfully changing the subject. “Your reopening was a huge hit.”
“Yeah, it went pretty well, didn’t it?” I’m trying to downplay it more for my own sake than anything else. There are still some deals and transactions in the works—trying to get some regional markets to carry the DeLuca brand, pushing out and growing our distribution list. More publicity opportunities too, ones that I’m hopeful will come to fruition and take DeLuca wine to a national level.
Going to Savor will get the DeLuca brand out there even more. I’ve realized quick, especially after meeting with the local Vintners group, that I need to be constantly pushing the name, constantly talking to people in the industry. Creating a good wine is key, but networking is a necessity to selling good wine. Growing, learning, taking it all in—especially at conferences where I meet others in the business, so I can bring it back to DeLuca and apply everything I’ve learned—is important.
Do I really need to take Bryn with me to Savor? Probably not. I would’ve been exhausted running around that conference for two days, and missed a few talks or workshops I wanted to check out, but I could’ve done it all on my own. It’s just so much more fun having her with me. And easier, of course, since she’s beyond capable and will keep me on schedule.
Spending time with her on a plane, in the city, at a hotel. It’s all ripe with possibilities.
If the woman I’m interested in actually acted interested in me, that is.
Chapter Ten
Bryn
Two weeks later, New York City
I SIT ON my cushy king-size bed with my laptop, glancing over my hand-scribbled notes taken from the endless amount of workshops I went to all day. I have never, in all my life, stayed in a hotel like the W New York at Times Square. Of course, the biggest city I’ve ever been to before was Los Angeles and that’s just a sprawling metropolis with crowded freeways and shopping malls everywhere.
New York City has a completely different vibe. All the buildings are so tall, the sidewalks packed, and everything is open so late. I’ve never seen anything like it. In my hometown, the sidewalks rolled up and shops closed around eight o’clock, nine on Saturdays.
We arrived last night, and Matt had wanted a slice of pizza at one in the morning. We’d promptly gone out and found a place open—not only open but packed.
It thrilled my small-town-bumpkin-self right down to my toes.
While I attended workshops today, Matt went to a discussion symposium, a special wine tasting, and currently he’s at a keynote dinner. He tried to get me to go with him, but I declined, saying I’d rather call for room service and type up the notes I knew I’d have.
He’d reluctantly agreed, telling me I could order whatever I wanted from room service since he was paying for it.