At First Blush Page 9

  “You’re a QB. You can’t tackle worth shit.” She’d brushed herself off and scurried to her feet, hoping he’d read the blush in her cheeks as a result of the game and the sun, and not her newly discovered desire for her longtime best friend.

  They’d hung out as usual all summer when Alexis wasn’t working. And the night before he left for school in Boston, they’d had a party at the end of the tote road in the back of the Courtways’ field. There was the usual smuggling of beer and cigarettes, and Alexis had gotten drunk for the first time.

  She’d been sipping wine since she was thirteen, and had built up her system pretty well, but the cans of Bud being passed around were too tempting.

  As was Brandon.

  When the party had settled down after midnight, they sat in the bed of his truck and gazed at the stars and talked about their futures.

  It was the first time Brandon had expressed concerns about not being good enough. About competing in college, and hopefully med school. Coming from a small Maine town and the son of uneducated parents, the thought of attending Boston College, even on a full scholarship, had scared him to death.

  Maybe it was the alcohol, the starry night, the myriad of emotions, but that night when he looked at Alexis with insecure eyes, she thought back to his muscled arms, and how much she’d miss their late night talks.

  His easy banter. His jokes. His acceptance.

  Alexis couldn’t remember who initiated it, but clothes came off and her virginity was taken. Given freely.

  They didn’t talk about it the next day when friends and family said their teary good-byes. Brandon didn’t make eye contact with her and gave her a casual hug, not the swinging bear hugs like he used to give. She could read the regret in his face. It hadn’t meant to him what it had meant to her.

  They’d emailed and texted each other, but when he’d come home at Thanksgiving he didn’t even call her. Nor did he at Christmas. And by his sophomore year in college he’d moved to Boston, returning home only for sporadic family visits.

  Alexis had lost her best friend, her virginity, her pride, and her first crush. She’d dated a few men over the years, no one serious, and went to bed with a few. None of them called the next morning or were interested in pursuing a relationship. Not that she wanted to settle down either. Still, the ego she didn’t know she had was crushed.

  The only time she felt special to a man was right before she went to bed with him. And then…

  And then it was a letdown. Again and again she’d go home alone, with more regrets, and an empty heart. Not that any man had come close to filling her heart. Even Brandon who she’d crushed on so hard that summer hadn’t totally owned a piece that really mattered.

  It was more the idea of having a boyfriend. Of having a guy look at her the way they looked at her sister. Men would notice Grace and ask Alexis about her. Often she felt they agreed to go on a date with Alexis just to get one step closer to her sister.

  Rejection came in many shapes and sizes, and Alexis had experienced them all. From her best friend, to casual dates, to her sister. In one way or another, she’d never been good enough to keep anyone’s attention for very long. Any interest in her was usually for a purpose, whether it be to get closer to her sister or just to get laid.

  Ben fit the mold as well. Sure, he expressed a sexual interest in her now. He wanted her to agree to his destructive plan and then he’d jet back to California, leaving Alexis attached and alone.

  It wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t let it.

  Turning on the morning news while she got ready, she listened to the weather report as she brushed her teeth and hair, and stilled. Toothbrush in hand, she peeked out of her bathroom at the television and read the screen. Temperatures were expected to drop drastically today and tonight. The perfect night for picking frozen grapes.

  With the warm fall that kept the grapes growing longer than normal, and cool winter temperatures of late, tonight’s deep freeze would make the ideal conditions for ice wine. She’d read through her research one more time and prep for tonight just in case.

  This was her dream.

  Anxious and excited for the prospect of crafting ice wine for the first time, Alexis rushed through her morning ritual. She hurried her snuggle time with Hemmy, filling his bowl with his favorite chow and, forgoing breakfast, bundled up in her usual duds, and jogged down her stairs to check on the netting over the Riesling vines. Hemmy was in his usual glory as he ran around the property sniffing around for a squirrel or chipmunk brave enough to face the cold.

  Hours later, her stomach and fuzzy brain reminded her she needed to slow down and eat, especially if she was going to be up all night harvesting frozen grapes. The temperature had been a steady twenty all day, with the promise of a big dip tonight. Giddy with excitement, she let herself in to her parents’ kitchen, Hemmy at her heels, and opened the fridge in hunt of leftover pulled pork.

  “Hey, sweetheart. I was on my way out to the fields to find you.” Her father took another plate down from the cabinet, and she scooped a pile of food onto it, tossing a piece of pork to the dog.

  “Did you see the news? We should get a decent harvest of frozen grapes tonight. You and Mom may want to take a nap. It’s going to be a long one.”

  “I knew you’d be all over this. You’ve been talking about ice wine for sometime.”

  “Three years. We’ve had late frosts or cool summers. This is our year, Dad. I knew it was. We don’t need to turn our place into a construction zone to bring in more customers. Our ice wine will make the magazines, I’m sure of it. The Riesling are in their prime right now. The nets kept most of the birds away. Market research shows we can sell our bottles for thirty bucks, easy.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. While I’m just as excited for you to try your hand at ice wine, it’s not something we can bank on. The Canadians are the ones who own that market. Building a function hall is something that can consistently bring in customers, though.”

  “Yeah? And for the record, we’re not bringing in grapes from Italy.” Ben hadn’t mentioned anything about importing but she wanted to make sure her father understood her loud and clear. “We’re not Napa Valley or Sonoma. We’re not even the Finger Lakes. We’re Maine and should be proud of it.”

  “I agree with you there. I told Ben we were sticking with our grapes, maybe look into a few more hybrids, but we’re loyal to our own. He didn’t take offense to it.”

  Alexis snorted and opened the microwave when it dinged. “I don’t really care what he takes offense to. This is our land. Our wine. Our reputation, and we’re not going to have some Italian ruin it for us.” Not that she had anything against Italy. It was a beautiful country, she was sure. It had everything to do with Ben and him getting to her in more ways than one.

  Her father laughed and patted her on the back. “You’ve always been my spunky one.”

  “Your loyal one,” Alexis muttered before shoveling her lunch in her mouth.

  “Grace is loyal to our family as well. She’s not like you and me though. She needs to find herself. She’ll be back.”

  Her father was more forgiving and trusting than her, that was for sure. A tinge of guilt poked at her full belly. Her father had kept Coastal Vines in operation out of loyalty and obligation to his father, and because Alexis had asked him to. What if they really were hurting financially? She left the money management to her parents, opting to run the vineyard and winemaking process instead.

  If they needed to improve productivity, she’d consider adding more vines, but those would take three years to produce quality grapes. The ice wine would be their way out of debt, if that was the problem.

  They ate standing at the counter, knowing if Claudia came in she’d scold them for their poor manners. Ignoring her guilt at bad mouthing her sister, Alexis washed their plates in silence and slipped on her coat.

  “Think the Jeffreys will lend some of their crew for harvesting?”

  “I’ll call R
yan. Chances are they won’t go out lobstering tomorrow anyway with the cold spell coming in.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll call Brady and Carter. I’m sure they’ll help us harvest as well.” The Marshall brothers had been running their blueberry farm and apple orchard across the road since their father died ten years ago when they were in high school. Winter was slow for them and they were hard workers. Friends, too. “I’ll get the buckets and press ready. Time is not on our side. Looks like tomorrow may warm up to the mid-thirties.”

  “I’ll make some calls.”

  The rest of the afternoon, Alexis scrambled around, gathering everything they’d need to press the grapes while still frozen. They’d turned the over-sized barn into the pressing area nearly a decade ago and turned their smaller pressing room into the tasting room. Alexis never had a problem with that addition. Granted she was barely out of high school and was excited to have her own apartment upstairs.

  And while they expanded the pressing space, it didn’t commercialize them, only improved their product. What Ben wanted to do…no, she didn’t have time to think about the city boy and his stupid plans.

  Speaking of, the Italian filled up the doorway to the barn, warming up the room more than she liked.

  “We’re busy.”

  “Your dad said you could use another pair of hands.” Ben crouched and rubbed behind Hemmy’s ears, turning her dog into a weak pile of fur.

  Alexis snorted. “Not yours.”

  “What’s wrong with mine?” He stepped into the barn, closing the door behind him.

  Alexis made herself look busy sanitizing the press. Again. “It’s cold, and it’s hard work. Something you’d pass off to your farm hands.”

  “Stereotype much?”

  “I don’t need to. Besides, you’re a businessman now. Eye on the dollar signs, not the grapes. My Riesling are fragile, and you hardly have the capacity to be gentle and nurturing.”

  “I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, but okay.” Ben pulled off his gloves and shoved them in his pocket. “Do you have another press I can prep?”

  “No.”

  “‘No,’ as in you don’t have another one, or ‘no’ as in you don’t want my help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes you want my help?”

  “No.” Alexis couldn’t keep up. All she wanted was him out of her space. He confused her too much. Reminded her of things she didn’t want to think about or feel. He infuriated her professionally, and personally, well, she really didn’t want to think about that right now.

  Sighing, Ben leaned against the press Alexis was cleaning—again—and crossed his arms. “Whether you want me to or not, I’m helping out tonight. I’ve never seen ice wine being made. It intrigues me.”

  “Well lah-ti-da. While you’re busy being intrigued, I’m going to be busting my ass in frigid temperatures in hopes to make a few hundred bottles of wine.”

  “My help should help you bust your ass a little bit less.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.” Alexis wadded up the dirty paper towels and chucked them in a nearby trash.

  “Alright. Elephant in the room time.” Ben took her by her shoulders and turned Alexis around so she faced him. “I said something last night that pissed you off. Whatever I said, I’m sorry. God knows that wasn’t my intent. I thought our night would end much differently than it did.”

  Alexis pulled away. “You’re pathetic if you think sleeping with me will change my mind.”

  “Change your mind on what? I’m not even talking about sex.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “So the elephant isn’t about my first draft plan for the winery, but about sex?”

  “No. It’s about…never mind.” She hated that she sounded like a raving lunatic. This was what Ben’s icy blue eyes did to her. Brain fog set in, and she couldn’t remember what she was saying, why she was mad, what she was doing.

  The last thing she wanted to turn into was a weak-minded woman blinded by money, shiny objects, and a sexy man. She’d lost her sister to them, and refused to follow in her footsteps.

  Crushing on a man because of his looks was as out of character as wearing heels to work. Ben made her think about life beyond the winery and she resented him for it. She’d always taken her job seriously and wouldn’t allow a man to step in and alter her focus.

  To be fair, it wasn’t Ben she was mad at. It was herself. Her stubborn nature wouldn’t let her enjoy casual flirting. It was okay a few days ago when she thought he was passing through town and she’d never have to see him again.

  Which he still was, in a way. Only now that pissed her off. She’d gotten too close to him and liked him too much. His charm, his humor, how kind he was to her parents. Ben had all the qualities she didn’t know she was looking for in a man.

  And he was just passing through town.

  “You know what I found attractive about you the first time I saw you at the Sunrise Diner?”

  “Don’t care.” No. She wouldn’t succumb to his dimples.

  “It was how direct you were. Straight and to the point. This flare for drama you’ve got going on isn’t very attractive.”

  “Excuse me?” If ever anyone wanted to ruffle her feathers, this was how. “I am the least dramatic person I know. I’m ignoring you because I don’t do dramatic.”

  “Uh huh.” Ben shook his head and smiled in disbelief. “If you’re so straightforward, then tell me why you hate me so much.”

  “You want to know? You really want to know?” Alexis pushed off from the wall she’d cozied up to and jabbed her callused finger into Ben’s chest. Blood rushed to her face in anger. “You come into my town, my family’s winery with your Italian-Irish good boy looks and try to charm the pants off me, and sweet talk my parents with manners and etiquette. You think your hot kisses and pretend smoldering looks and fake kind words are enough to convince me to throw out everything I value—which is tradition and family—and fall at your knees, thanking you with sex for your elaborate plan to turn our small business into some multimillion dollar corporation. I will not fall to modern day society’s expectations of what is in. That,” she jabbed him harder, “Benito Martelli, is why I can’t stand to see your smug face.”

  “Our kisses are pretty hot.”

  “Pig.”

  “And my looks and words aren’t fake.”

  “As if.”

  “And sex with you wouldn’t be a payment or a thank you. It would be because the chemistry between us is crazy, combustible. You and I both know it. I can see it in your eyes. You want me as much as I want you.”

  She hated how right he was. Hated her traitorous body. Hated how she was overreacting and turning into a drama queen. She wasn’t the shallow kind of girl who could be swayed with good looks and charm. This battle was about her honoring Grumpy’s dying wishes, not about curbing her annoying crush on him.

  “Shut up.” Alexis spun on her heels and stomped to the back room to get more vats.

  Two hours later, the crew set up a bonfire away from the barn and the grapes where they could thaw their fingers during short breaks, and Claudia set up carafes of coffee and muffins inside the tasting room. They’d need to leave the barn doors open to keep the grapes frozen at all times.

  When Brady and Carter Marshall and Curtis and Ryan Jeffrey arrived Alexis called everyone around the fire to go over responsibilities.

  “It’s crucial that the grapes stay frozen at all times. We have to pick and press them all by eight tomorrow morning. Once the sun comes up and the temperature rises, the grapes will lose their flavor.”

  The winter had been the perfect weather conditions, light freeze, slow defrosts. Just enough for the flavors to intensify inside each grape.

  “Is it true that each grape only produces one drop of wine?” Curtis asked.

  “Something like that.” She ignored Ben as he sidled up next to her. Too close.

  “Seems like a lot of work for not much of anything.”<
br />
  “You’ll change your mind when you try a glass of the ice wine.” At least, Alexis hoped so. She’d done a lot of reading and research over the years, waiting for the right conditions to try her hand at the specialty wine. Some day she’d like to visit the Niagara district in Canada and watch how they harvest their grapes. In the meantime, she had only her tiny crop to work with.

  “You’ll need to be careful when removing the netting from each vine. The grapes may be tangled in it and you don’t want to lose or crush any. And try not to handle them too long. Even your body temperature is enough to thaw them, making them lose their intensity.”

  “Think this will take all night?” Ryan asked.

  “Probably. Ryan, Carter, and Mom, you’ll start at the north end. Dad, you, Brady, Curtis and I will start on the south. Once we have enough to start pressing we can alternate between you, Mom, and me in the barn. You,” she gestured to Ben, “can be the runner. The crates get heavy, and I don’t want my mom hurting her back.” And she wanted Ben to feel it tomorrow.

  Payback was a bitch. And so was she.

  “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.” Her mom rubbed her hands in the heat from the fire.

  “Why can’t Curtis be in my group? We were going to talk shop while we pick, if that’s okay,” Ryan asked. He was a complainer in high school as well. A good worker, but semi-annoying.

  Alexis didn’t trust the Jeffrey boys to be on top of their game. Carter worked his tail off on his farm, but Brady was the more responsible one.

  “I’ll look after them,” her mother whispered. “Ben, you can join Alexis and Shane. I’ll take the rest of the boys.” Claudia patted her arm and joined her new crew. “We’ll take turns being the runner.” At least Alexis could trust her mom to keep the boys in line. Until their fingers froze off, that is.

  “I can help with the pressing as well,” Ben offered.

  “I don’t think so.” Alexis turned her back on him.

  She showed everyone to the pile of crates he’d helped her stack earlier. “Mom has a stew on the stove. Let’s get warm and fill our bellies before the fun starts.”

  They trekked up the slope to the main house, stomping the snow and dirt off their boots before going inside, and each hung up their coat on hooks in the mudroom, Hemmy at their heels. As always.