Leila braved a stare into Simon’s sharp green eyes. “I’m thinking tapas.”
Their head chef deplored appetizers, but in this case, she wasn’t sure they had much of a choice. Serving a full sit-down meal would require a lot more resources than they currently had at their disposal, and she didn’t intend on asking August to use his spending account. Taking money from Kingston wouldn’t do much to prove that Valentino Bellas could survive on its own.
“Tapas is not a meal.” Simon’s chin rose with stubborn disdain. They were seated in the kitchen—she, Nonna, and Simon—surrounded by stainless steel and cooks doing their prep work for the dinner rush.
Back when she’d been a kid, Leila had loved to spend time in here, following Simon around in her apron, ready to jump in and help wash up the vegetables or clean dishes. She’d loved the hustle and bustle of the kitchen—the chaos, the constant noise with pots clanging and steam whooshing around her. Back then, it had felt like an exciting place to be. Now the kitchen was one more thing she had to manage and worry about.
“What about serving our prime rib dinner instead?” The chef flipped through his famous handwritten notebook. Simon had come to work at Valentino Bellas before computers were a thing, and he still preferred to scrawl all his secret recipes in the book. Likely so no one else would ever be able to decode them.
“Ah. Here we go.” He stopped on a page midway through the book. “We could make my roasted garlic parsnip puree and roasted tender-stem broccolini with blue cheese, and a shaved brussels sprouts salad and—”
“Whoa. I think we’re getting carried away.” After all those years of following Simon around and having him scold her, she still found it difficult to act as the authority figure. “We need something simple. I’m picturing a stand-up mingling reception on the terrace with some hors d’oeuvres…” Which sounded much fancier than tapas. “And a selection of wines specially paired with the flavors.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Nonna agreed. “People love wine pairings, and I know with your talent, you can come up with the perfect combination of unique and delicious flavors to challenge their palates.” Leila’s grandmother had always known exactly the right things to say to Simon.
The rigidity in the man’s spine immediately dissolved. “I suppose I can prepare some specialty hors d’oeuvres to complement our most popular wines.” The man flipped through his book. “Ah. Nut and cheese gougères are always a delight. Oh, and robiola-stuffed figs with pomegranate and—”
“Maybe we should pick four really good appetizers,” Leila said before he could get carried away.
“Four?” Simon hopped off his stool in outrage. “No one has an hors d’oeuvres party with only four selections! What if someone is allergic to nuts and can’t eat the gougères? Then they would only have three to pick from.” Simon crossed his arms and glared at her the way he used to when she would help by “taste-testing” the desserts. He still saw her as a five-year-old who stuck her finger in the frosting.
“We can’t have people going away from Valentino Bellas hungry.”
And they couldn’t afford to feed all these people a full menu. Leila silently begged for Nonna’s help.
“Very well.” Her grandmother rose regally from her stool. “You can select five of your very best hors d’oeuvres for the party.”
Simon shot Leila a satisfied smirk, even though that was only one more appetizer than she’d suggested. “Sounds like a good compromise to me. I’ll e-mail you a food budget for the event.”
Before he could argue about having to follow a budget to order the supplies, Leila walked out of the kitchen and into the restaurant’s main dining room.
“You’re worried about money.” Her grandmother emerged behind her. “How bad are things?”
Rather than turning to face the woman, she gazed out the wall of windows that overlooked the valley. The late-afternoon glow gently caressing the vineyards was almost enough to take the edge off her stress. “Things are pretty tight,” she said through a defeated sigh. She hadn’t wanted to burden Nonna with any of this, but the challenges they were facing were getting harder to hide. “The restaurant is keeping us afloat, but only barely. I think we’re going to have to raise our prices.”
“Mimma…” Her grandmother came alongside her and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close. “Things will work out. You’ll see. I know you’ve taken too much on since you’ve come home, but we’re here to help you. August is here to help now too. Things will be fine.”
If only she knew the truth. August could be the person who helped Kingston take everything away from them. Sure, he said he was on their side, but Sam was right. He’d been working for Forrest Kingston for years. He was the man’s right-hand guy, not to mention a shrewd businessman on his own, from everything she’d read about him.
“We need this event to be a success.” A robust wine club meant consistent income—money they could count on. “That’s where August said we need to focus.”
“Well, then, we’ll make sure it’s a success.” Nonna tugged on her hand until Leila turned around. “All of us together. You’re not in this alone. I know you felt the need to become independent and your own woman after losing August the way you did, but you’re going to have to let him back in now.” Her expression brightened. “You two are getting married. That means you’ll share everything, even the burdens you carry.”
Leila’s heart buckled, causing her determination to waver. She should tell her. Everything. Now. What a relief it would be to—
“Hey, sis.” Sam blitzed into the dining room from the kitchen. “I’ve been looking for you. We have a problem.”
“Is it one you can solve yourself?” Because she was maxed out on problems right now.
“Sure, I can solve it myself.” Her brother pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. “But not without roughly seven grand.”
A real honest-to-goodness giggle slipped out. She was definitely losing it. Did he realize how absurd that request was right now? “We don’t have seven grand. There is no seven grand.” The high-pitched ring in her voice made the words crack.
Sam disregarded their lack of unlimited funds with a shrug. “Well, our crusher is broken. The motor went out. I’ve tried fixing it, but we’ve already been babying the thing along for the last few years, and now it’s kaput.”
Leila froze where she stood. She couldn’t open her mouth, couldn’t breathe. Maybe if she stared at him long enough, she would simply melt into the floor.
“Now, now. Nothing to worry about,” Nonna insisted. “I’m sure Poppa can fix the crusher. He’s fixed that thing at least ten times before.”
“We both worked on the motor all morning.” Sam still spoke nonchalantly, as though this new issue didn’t have the power to break them. “Poppa said he thinks it might be time to replace it.”
“Replace it?” The giggle escaped again. It was better than crying. “We. Don’t. Have. Seven. Thousand. Dollars.” It was simply not there, not even within reach.
Sam shrugged again—easy to do when he wasn’t carrying the burdens on his shoulders. “Maybe we should get a loan.”
Leila widened her eyes, silently reminding him they couldn’t get a loan. With their current financial situation, they wouldn’t qualify, and she couldn’t take the money from Kingston. Letting Forrest bail them out would only give him ammunition to use against her.
“Have Poppa take a look at the books.” Nonna began straightening the settings on a table that had been readied for the dinner hour. “I’m sure he can move some funds around and find the money we need.”
Leila watched the woman move a fork to the right angle, and then a spoon, and then a knife. She didn’t know. Her grandmother had no idea what they were dealing with because Leila had hidden everything. But a woman in her seventies who’d only recently gotten her life back after cancer treatments shouldn’t have to deal with financial woes. Nonna might have gotten clearance on the cancer, but the chemo had taken a toll. She’d become frailer than she used to be, seeming tired all the time. The reason Leila had moved back to Silverado Lake in the first place was so she could make sure her grandparents could enjoy their lives more.
“Sure. Maybe I’ll have Poppa look over the books.” She managed to put on a smile. “Or I can go over everything again.” But she already knew what she would find. “I’ll take a look at the crusher too. Maybe there’s something I can do to fix it.” She’d pretty much performed every role around here at some point, from food server to dishwasher to harvester to payroll clerk. She might as well add mechanic to the job description.
“You’re going to fix it?” Sam laughed, but abruptly stopped when her expression darkened.
“If we can’t fix it, we’ll figure out something,” Nonna assured her. If her grandmother had seen the books, she wouldn’t have that ring of optimism in her voice.
“I know we will.” Leila hugged the woman tightly and reminded herself to count her blessings. After Nonna had been diagnosed with cancer, she hadn’t been sure how much longer she would have the woman who’d raised her in her life. That was why she was doing this—that was why she had to save this place. For Nonna. “Come on.” She waved her brother out of the dining room. “Let’s go have a look at the crusher.”
“You can’t fix the thing, and we’re not going to be able to get by without a crusher.” Sam had never learned the art of subtlety. “We actually have a decent crop this year. We can’t lose the next few months because of no crusher.”
“Then we have no choice but to fix the machine.” Leila marched up the hill that led to the wine-making barn, outstriding her longer-legged brother. “There’s no money in the budget.”
“Poppa has gotten loans before,” Sam argued, hurrying to catch up. “I don’t see what the big deal is—”
Leila came to a dead stop. “The big deal is no one will give us a loan. I applied for two before contacting Forrest Kingston and both applications were rejected.” She tried to strike a tone between stern and patient. It wasn’t Sam’s fault he had no idea what was happening with their finances. Her brother had been doing his job. He made the best wine in the valley—some might say in all of Colorado—but when it came to crunching the numbers, well, he simply didn’t.
Her brother held open the barn door for her. “Like I said, Poppa and I worked on this thing all morning and got nowhere.”
The wine-making barn had never been her favorite place at the winery. It was in a perpetual state of disarray. There were mismatched shelves and plastic folding tables with gadgets stashed all over the place—things she had no idea what to do with or what they did. The machinery for crushing, de-stemming, and filtering took up what was left of the space. Overhead, fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered, creating a prison-like hue. And, unlike the wonderful savory scents of garlic and basil that permeated the restaurant, this room had that sour smell of fermenting grapes, which she loved when she opened a bottle of cab, but not when it constantly floated in the air.
“We cleaned the whole thing out, tightened every screw, greased the wheels,” her brother said, leading her to the crusher. “Those are the things Poppa said worked in the past.”
“Then we’ll have to find what will work this time.” Leila approached the large stainless-steel machine. “Did you try plugging it in?” she joked.
Sam shook his head at her. “If you ask Poppa, we need to go back to a manual crusher instead of these newfangled motorized machines. ‘They sure don’t build ’em like they used to,’” he said, doing his best Poppa impression.
Leila examined the various buttons and levers next to a small screen. “Are the manual crushers cheaper?”
“Way cheaper.” Her brother flipped a lever to turn on the machine. “But you also have far less output. We can make a lot more wine with a motorized crusher.”
“And we need a lot more wine.” Especially if they grew their wine club.
“Exactly.” Sam hit another button, and the contraption made a loud grinding sound, but nothing moved. “It’s like the drum is stuck or something.” He turned the crusher off.
“Right. The drum.” She had no idea what the drum was. Leila knelt to unplug the machine and then pulled over a stepladder to peer into the large, rectangular opening at the top. She couldn’t see much from that vantage point. “What about those wires and stuff?” She climbed down the ladder and went around to the back of the contraption where cords coiled around.
“Neither Poppa nor I are electricians,” Sam reminded her. “If the wires are messed up, we’ll have to get someone from the company to come out here to fix it.”
Which would likely cost nearly as much as getting a new machine. This thing was so old, they’d probably have to special order the parts. “I don’t understand how it could break down. I thought this was a top-of-the-line crusher.” At least that was what her grandparents had said when they bought it years ago.
“Sure, it was the best. Way back when.” Her brother walked to the long, stainless-steel counter where he had a bunch of glass containers lined up. Likely his unfiltered taste-testing station. “The fact is, these machines don’t last forever, and there aren’t any mechanics around these parts who know a damn thing about them.”
“Maybe we should look up a how-to video online.” Surely someone had filmed themselves fixing their grape crusher and posted it on social media. Leila messed with some of the metal wheels at the mouth of the machine and proceeded to get her hands all greasy. “Can you bring me a paper tow—?”
The barn door creaked open with an obnoxious squawk, and August strode in. One look at his face transported her back to the park, and her heart dropped like it had when she’d kissed him.
“Hey.” Her voice floated away from her. She awkwardly held her dirty hands in front of her waist. “What’re you doing here?”
August hung out by the door, obviously not any more eager to get close to her than she was to him.
Because she’d lost her mind and had gone and kissed him, and then he’d pushed her away.
“Your grandmother found me and told me there’s something wrong with the crusher?” He seemed to be waiting for permission to come fully into the room.
Sam’s shoulders seemed to grow broader. “We’ve got it under control.”
While she appreciated her brother’s protectiveness, who was he trying to kid? They currently had nothing under control around this place.
“You sure?” August focused on her greasy hands. “I’ve worked on a lot of crushers over the years.”
Oh, for the love of God. Leila stuffed her pride down deep where it belonged. So he’d pushed her away after she’d kissed him. He’d done her a favor. She didn’t need him to make out with her in the park, she needed him to fix the damn crusher. “We don’t even know how to take the thing apart.” She wiped her hands on a towel she spotted on the counter. “The motor quit. Sam and Poppa haven’t been able to fix it, and we don’t have seven thousand dollars to buy a new one right now.” She might as well be completely honest.
August didn’t ask any questions. He simply rolled up his sleeves. “Do you have a toolbox?”
Leila raised her eyebrows at her brother.
“I put them all away but, sure, I’ll go find them.” Sam stomped out of the room in obvious disgust.
August walked over and plugged in the machine again. “Nice to see he’s warming up to me.”
“He’ll come around.” Heck, if Auggie fixed this machine, she might even come around and forget all about the humiliation that had pricked her skin when he’d backed away from, wide-eyed and repulsed.
“I’m sure I deserve every bit of your brother’s dislike.” His eyes barely grazed hers, but the quick look was enough to soften her knees. Why, oh why, had she kissed him? It had been too easy to find herself in his arms again, opening to each other the way they used to.
A tentative silence stretched out between them a beat too long while August examined the crusher’s control panel.
He didn’t know what to say either. Luckily, she didn’t have a problem making small talk. “So, have you fixed a lot of crushers during your career?” Whatever she did, she had to steer clear of discussing the kiss. She had to pretend like it never happened, like it didn’t affect her.
“A few.” The man took a knee and looked at the underside of the machine. “I’ve pretty much done everything there is to do at a vineyard. Had to work my way up over the years.”
Leila watched while he stood and turned on the machine, taking a few seconds to listen to the horrible grinding before turning it off again.
“Do you like what you’re doing now for Kingston the best out of all the jobs you’ve done?” She couldn’t help but be curious about him. Back when they’d been dating, she never would’ve assumed he’d be an executive, spending much of his time on the business end of things. He’d always loved the outdoors, the hands-on work he’d done with his father at the ranch.
“I wouldn’t say that I like what I’m doing now the best.” August seemed as intent on avoiding her gaze as she was on avoiding his. “I like being in the vineyards. Planting, tending, harvesting. And I recently made some of my own wine too.”
“You made wine?” Sam appeared in the open doorway again. “We don’t need any help making wine around here.” Her brother shoved a large toolbox into August’s hands. “You might have some fancy job and make a lot more money than us, but we have our own way of doing things, and that’s not going to change.”
Leila almost chastised Sam for being so rude, but she couldn’t blame him for feeling threatened. August’s very presence here was a reminder of the deal she’d made. He might not mean to be, but the man was a threat to all of them.
“I don’t plan on taking over,” August said easily. He set the toolbox on the ground and dug around until he found a screwdriver. “Making wine is more of a hobby for me. You have nothing to worry about.”
Her brother grunted something inaudible and then said more loudly, “I have to go meet a group of harvest volunteers at the café in town. If you’ll excuse me.” He made it out the door in a few long strides.
“Sorry.” Leila moved in closer to August. “He’s the only one here besides us who knows the real situation. I think he’s worried.” She knew how often she woke up at night with her heart racing. Maybe Sam was better at hiding the stress than she was.
“I get it.” August unscrewed a few bolts on the machine and then pulled a stainless-steel panel off it to reveal more gears and wires. “Neither of you have any reason to trust me.”
“We don’t have any choice but to trust you.” That was what she had to come to terms with. She didn’t have to trust him with her heart; she had to trust him with her mind, with her business.
“I hope to prove myself trustworthy.” He stepped away from the machine and pulled off his Henley.
“Whoa.” She hadn’t meant to react, but she hadn’t been prepared for him to lose his clothes. “What’re you doing?”
“There’s a lot of grease here. Don’t want to ruin my shirt.” He tossed the shirt onto the table and selected a wrench from the toolbox. At least she was pretty sure he had a wrench. It had gotten difficult to focus on anything besides the rippling muscles in his back. Auggie had always had a well-defined physique, but his shoulders had grown broader, and his skin had a rugged quality. He must spend at least some hours outside.
“Hey.” August glanced over his shoulder. “Can you find me a pair of pliers?”
“What? Huh? Oh. Pliers.” She managed to rip her gaze off his body. “Yes. Pliers. No problem.” Her quaking hands fumbled with the tools in the toolbox. “Pliers. Here we go.” She thrust the tool into his hands and then backed away so quickly she tripped on a box Sam had left on the floor. “Oopsies.” Leila steadied herself before she fell on her butt. What was wrong with her?
He offered her his hand. “You okay?”
“Yep! I’m good.” She laughed awkwardly. “Still a klutz.” And still a sucker for August’s body.
“All right, then.” August went back to work on the machine.
Leila watched his hands work. Those same large hands had held her face tenderly while he’d kissed her only a few hours ago. The memory sent her stomach gently rolling all over again.
The man tinkered with wires and the gears, tapping things, tightening parts with a wrench. It shocked her how much he resembled the old August, especially when he focused on something. His left eye still narrowed slightly, and he continued to set his jaw with determination. He gave the task all his attention, stepping back a few times as though to bring the whole picture into view.
“Some of the parts are wearing down,” he said after at least fifteen minutes of tinkering and working. “But I think we can make it last another season or so.” He set down the wrench, separating and examining the wires. “I know a guy. We can order new parts, and I can rewire the motor. I’ve replaced the guts on one of these things before. I’m sure that’ll take care of the problem for now.”
August finally pulled back on his shirt, thank the good Lord.
“Let me worry about this.” He closed up the toolbox. “Don’t give it another thought.”
Before she could cut off the rise of emotion, tears burned in her eyes. Relief. Pure, utter relief. “Thank you.” God, it was awful to have him here, to be reminded of what she’d lost every day. But it helped too. She’d been on her own for a long time.
Now, like it or not, August was here to share her burdens. But she couldn’t let herself get used to having him around.