Chapter 20
“Listen to this,” said Savvy, reading off her phone. “You put the lavender into the boiler canister, and the steam comes out through a hose and is captured in this vertical tube called a condenser, which separates the liquid, called hydrosol, from the oil. And that’s it,” she said, leaning across the table in her enthusiasm. Even her thick lenses couldn’t hide the sparkle in her eyes. “That’s all there is to it! That’s the basic process of distillation.” She popped her forkful of calamari into her mouth.
Reluctantly, Esteban tore his eyes away from her plump lips and tried to keep his mind on why he’d brought her here, to Bodega, tonight.
Last time they were together at the lavender store, bad as he wanted to rip that dress right off of her and do her in the truck bed, he’d driven her straight home. After the coast, he needed her to realize what he wanted from her went beyond sex.
She’d sounded thrilled when he’d called a few days later to set up tonight’s date, squeezed in between all his preparations for opening day.
A twinge of guilt nagged him at his real intention. Yeah, he wanted to see her again. She was all he thought about from dawn to dusk, while he worked the farm. And after dusk? Not one night had gone by that he hadn’t lost sleep over the vision of her straddling him on the sand. Her furrowed brow, her parted lips as he drove into her again and again.
But their sex on the beach wasn’t all that haunted him. There was something else that kept him up, and not in a good way.
“There’s so much to learn!” said Savvy, swallowing a sip of wine, the burgundy liquid swirling perilously close to the rim of her glass when she set it back down.
“I know. I can’t believe the price that grower who supplies Smells Like Napa is getting for her Hidcote bundles at wholesale. That’s got to be over a five hundred percent profit margin.”
That wasn’t the only thing he had trouble believing. How was it that he, Esteban Morales, was with Sauvignon St. Pierre? The leaf green she was wearing tonight made her rosy cheeks look even pinker. She didn’t seem to notice the attention they were attracting in the restaurant. The heads turning, the whispering. Especially that güey with the man bag sitting over at the bar who wouldn’t stop glancing their way.
Maybe she was used to it, but he wasn’t. Were they talking about how beautiful she was? Her famous, yet notorious father? Or were they wondering why one of Napa Valley’s most eligible bachelorettes was hanging out with a truck farmer?
“Let’s go visit that ranch together.”
Esteban thought as he swigged his draft. “You can’t just show up at someone’s ranch and ask for a tour.”
“It’s all set up. Anne Rathmell’s expecting us.”
“What did you say to her?”
“That I overheard her conversation at Smells Like Napa, and I was interested in looking at her still and my farmer friend wanted to see which lavender varieties grow best on her land.”
“And just like that, she invited us over.”
She shrugged. “Just like that.”
The server set down their salads.
Esteban was starting to realize that things moved faster in Savvy’s world than they did in his. She had this confidence hardwired into her that she could make things happen with a click of her heels.
Meanwhile, he was still trying to come to grips with all that had happened in the past couple of weeks since she’d first set foot on his property.
“So, are you in? Will you come with me?”
Like he had it in him to say no. “I’ll come.”
She clapped her hands. “This is going to be so much fun, learning all about lavender together.”
That was exactly what he’d been thinking. That, and about banging her like a screen door in a hurricane. Inside his Levi’s, his balls tightened.
But there wouldn’t be any more careless banging anytime soon. Going forward, things were going to be different. She wasn’t just another chula.
He needed to come clean about that damn counteroffer. Now.
“There’s something we need to talk about.”
With an easy smile, she tilted her head, twisting a diamond earring. “You look so serious.”
He took a preparatory breath. “I told you the real estate deal was dead because that’s what I believed. But those weren’t Padre’s exact words.” He looked her straight in the eye. “He didn’t say he wouldn’t take any offer.”
Smile gone, she stared back at him, unblinking.
“That is, not exactly. He told me to counter at two million.”
“Two million?” She dropped her fingers from her earring and leaned toward him.
He let it sink in.
“I figured no way was that going to happen. I was still blown away that someone thought it was worth one-point-five. That’s why—especially with the language barrier and all—I decided on my own to simplify things. Cut through the bull and tell you there was no sense in negotiating any more.”
She leaned across the table. “Wait. So what you’re saying is that it’s not that your land is so very precious that your father won’t let it go at any price. He’s holding out for more money.”
“No!” He looked around to be sure no one had overheard, then lowered his voice. “No. That’s not it. What I told you is true. Padre only pulled two million out of his hat as a symbol. Two mil, ten mil . . . those are all just numbers to someone like him. He can’t even conceive of them, in real life. He was trying to make the point that no amount of money would ever be enough. That money has nothing to do with it.”
Savvy sat back. “I don’t know what to say. Two million is twenty-five percent over the current offer. I can’t imagine NTI would go that high.”
“So you agree then. There’s no sense in even presenting it.”
She flattened her palms on the tablecloth. “NTI hired our firm to buy that land. Now that you’ve told me about this, I think I’m obligated to share it with them.”
A tiny arrow of panic zinged through him.
“Can you see it from my point of view?”
What could he say?
“I’ll need to get the offer in writing. Do you think that’ll be a problem?”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. “Padre won’t like it, but now that he’s made the offer verbally, he’ll feel obliged to back it up.”
“Let me guess. Honor, right?” She smiled wryly. “I’ll draw up the paperwork. Tell him not to stress too much. I doubt it’ll go any further.”
“Thanks for dinner,” said Savvy as they strolled through the Bodega parking lot to Esteban’s truck.
He should be thanking her. The more time he spent with Savvy, the more he liked her. Now that he’d told Savvy about Padre’s extreme offer and she’d agreed that it wasn’t likely to go anywhere, he felt like a weight had been taken off his back. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
In the Chevy, she took off her glasses and scooted across the seat toward him. In the process, her not-black dress slid up. He glanced over at her naked eyes boring into his, then down at the finest pair of knees in Napa. Caramba.
She reached around his neck with both hands, kissing his cheek. His temple. His ear. He lifted his chin, relishing the soft velvet of her lips forging a trail across his skin.
Ay, Savvy. He couldn’t resist kissing her back.
“I love being with you,” she murmured in her proper, prep school tones.
“Me too,” he managed. He cleared his throat. They should get going.
She started kissing him again and it didn’t feel like a good-night kiss.
Now, before his verga put a dent in the steering wheel . . .
A blinding flash of white light flooded her window. “Oh!” Savvy screamed and pressed into his shoulder, covering her face with her hands.
¡¿Qué chingados es eso?! Esteban was out of the truck in a split second, leaving his door hanging wide open. The güey with the man bag was running back toward the restaurant.
Within a half dozen strides, Esteban grabbed his shirt, spun him around, and pulled back his fist. “What are you doing, pendejo?”
The man shrank, shielding his face with his arm. “Nothing! I’m not doing anything! Let me go!”
Esteban heard crunching on pavement and felt a hand clutch his arm. “Stop it!” said Savvy. “Let him go, Esteban! He’s just a paparazzo. He’s not worth it.”
“Where’s your camera?” demanded Esteban, drawing back a little farther. The güey whimpered, tucking his face into the crook of his elbow.
Just then the silhouette of a couple came around the corner of the building, halting mid-step when they witnessed the scene. The man thrust a sheltering arm across his date.
“Please!” man-bag dude screamed. “Help! Somebody help me!”
“Let him go,” Savvy pleaded, tugging urgently at Esteban’s arm with both hands, her voice lowered. “C’mon, before you’re the one in trouble!”
In disgust, Esteban dropped him. He fell to his side, then scrambled to his feet and ran away.
“La madre que te parió!,” Esteban called to his back. Gracias a Dios, Savvy didn’t know Spanish.