*Belle walked into the Happy Valley Vineyard Café, which in reality was an extremely upmarket, city-styled restaurant. Lots of gleaming chrome and glass looked back at her. It was lovely, but felt cold.
Jack nudged her shoulder and nodded toward the other side of the rapidly filling room.
Dante.
Her breath halted and her heart seemed to stop beating, clunked, then pounded in her ears. She caught herself starting to automatically walk toward him and rubbed her clammy hands on the seat of her dress slacks.
“Dammit,” she muttered.
She couldn’t talk to him here, not about the important things. She refused to embarrass him further like that.
She’d gone past the Casellatis’ to see him after she, Jack, and her father had settled her mother, but the winery had been closed and the only person around was Jimmy. Sam and the whole lot of them had come over to Happy Valley early to help out with setting up, the owner, Jonathan, being a good friend of Sam’s.
“Talk to him later. A few hours won’t make that much difference now.”
She nodded and avoided her brother’s gaze. He knew she’d gone over, knew they hadn’t been home.
So many times she’d written a great, long apology, explaining what had happened, how she felt.
Then she deleted it. Over and over again. She didn’t know what stopped her sending it each time, only that she couldn’t. It wasn’t something she could say in a text message. It had to be in person, not via some stupid text message or phone call.
In person.
And now she was too damned nervous to cross the measly restaurant floor, too scared that he’d send her away.
She sighed and looked over her shoulder at her father, who motioned toward the owner of the café. Patrice, Jack’s girlfriend, stuck close to his side.
They said their hellos and Jonathan pointed the way to the table he’d set aside for them.
“It was really nice of you to host this evening,” Belle said.
Jonathan glanced at her and smiled. “It was the least I could do, considering how many local wineries entered this year. I thought it would be good for local morale. And also not too shabby for a tourist event.”
Belle laughed. “True. You look like you’ll have your hands full tonight.”
Jonathan nodded and seated her, pushing her chair in as she sat. Jack and her father sat down opposite. Fancy votive candle sets flickered in the middle of the tables. “We’re fully booked. Even the bar area is being used as bistro seating for a revised menu.”
Belle grinned. “That’s fantastic! Maybe we should’ve thought of this …”
Laughter greeted her words, smattering around the table. “Not tonight. You guys sit back and relax and have a good time. Tonight is for the winemakers to let go a little, not to work.”
Belle thanked him and picked up the wine menu as Jonathan walked off to seat another flush of guests.
She tried not to stare at Dante sitting with his family at the other side of the room, but couldn’t help small, surreptitious glances in his direction. Ria caught her eye and waved. Belle smiled tightly and dropped her gaze to stare at the wine list, heat creeping up her face.
They should be sitting together. The tables were huge, easily able to seat a dozen. Normally, their families would be together and noisily boisterous by now.
Sadness and pain swirled in a deepening eddy through her veins.
Had it really come to this, that she couldn’t even talk to them?
No. It was stupid. That’s what it was.
She stood up and walked quickly toward the Casellati table before she could change her mind.
What if he shut her down?
Her steps faltered. What if he said something horrible right there in public?
She couldn’t turn around and go back now. Everyone would see and know. She focused on Mr C’s back, sucked in a desperate breath, and kept going.
Belle reached the table and Ria looked up, a huge smile widening her mouth.
At least she wouldn’t turn her away.
She placed her hand on Sam’s shoulder. He glanced up and beamed at her.
“Bella!” He stood up and kissed both her cheeks, her face cupped firmly between his rugged hands. “You wonderful girl. Woman.” He waved a hand agitatedly and muttered something in Italian that she didn’t quite catch. It sounded suspiciously like cussing. “You gift me with your presence.”
Belle laughed, relaxing a little at his usual effusive welcome. “And you are still too much of a flirt to be real, Mr C.”
She stepped back and glanced at the rest of them around the table. Dante fiddled with his linen napkin, a tight smile sent in her direction, his gaze not quite reaching hers.
Belle’s confidence plummeted. She brought her attention back to Sam before she could lose her nerve.
“I just wanted to come and wish you all good luck. I know how hard you’ve worked on your entries for this year.” She aimed the words at the table in general, but they all knew she was talking to Dante. He was the one who’d spent the last few years on the blend, not the others.
“Ahhh! You bless me with your kindness, sweet Bella.”
A chorus of thanks echoed around the table. Dante’s voice, barely able to be discerned amongst them, joined in.
“Thanks, B.”
He’d answered. A small thing, perhaps, but it meant everything.
Heat surged up her neck and she glanced back at the table where her father and Jack waited for her, both their expressions cut from the same cloth. They both looked as worried as she felt.
“Well, I’d better get back. They’re waiting for me.” A total lie, but who was going to tell on her? Her cheeks followed her neck and heated to unbearable temperatures. “Enjoy your meals.”
She laughed then. “Look at me. Talking as if I’m the one waiting on your table. Force of habit, I guess.”
Ria laughed. “It gets like that. I end up saying the stupidest things in shops in town. I forget I’m the customer, not serving. Lucky they know us, hey, Belle?”
Belle nodded and stepped back, biting her lip.
“Good luck to you guys, too.” Raphael’s deep voice brought her head around.
Her gaze clashed with Dante’s, the heat in his gorgeous eyes making her stomach somersault and her knees turn to jelly. He looked down at the menu in front of him, his own cheeks definitely pinker than they had been moments earlier. Her heart stuttered from that simple exchange. Raph smiled at her, seated beside Dante.
“Thanks, Raph.”
She nodded again and hurried back to her table, trying hard not to look like she was rushing.
She grabbed the wine menu and fanned her hot face with it.
“That good, huh?” Jack asked.
“Shush.”
“Now, Jack, leave the poor girl alone.”
Jack laughed and shrugged. “Nah. Watching her squirm is too much fun.”
Belle looked at him. “Stop it.” She eyeballed Patrice. “How do you put up with him? He’s a right pain in the rear.”
Patrice smiled half-heartedly, not willing to get involved in the bickering. The waitress came to their table, and they ordered their meals from the set menu for the evening. A young man came back with their glasses of wine and set them on the table.
Her attention wandered toward the front of the room where Jonathan had set up a large projection screen. He dimmed the lights and clicked a button. Images of people and a podium filled the screen.
The awards committee.
A hush fell over the room as the man she recognised as the head of the International Wine Awards committee stepped behind the lectern. Thick greying hair topped a handsome, but rugged face.
“This year we departed from tradition and decided to stream the award announcements ceremony, as so many of you worldwide couldn’t be here this evening.”
He went on to mention past winners, the origins of the awards in Europe, and how they had become such an integral part of the international wine community, with buyers and sommeliers from all over the world participating and seeking their choices from the medallists.
The first course came and Belle ate, half listening to the keynote speaker and half trying to see Dante without appearing to stare at him.
The CEO of Wine Australia appeared on-screen and detailed how the long list of medal winners would be divided by grape variety, then sub-categorised by price, under and above thirty dollars Australian. Four levels of achievement would be awarded: bronze, silver, gold, and platinum. The final and most prestigious award of Best in Show Platinum would be awarded toward the end of the ceremony, to highlight excellence in winemaking, again divided into subgroups of variety and price. A total of forty-four Best in Show medals were to be awarded.
“Wow. They must have had a heck of a lot of entries this year,” Jack said.
Belle nodded, agreeing. One day she hoped to be asked to help judge in the awards, an accolade she could currently only dream of achieving. The first step in that was to pass the Master Sommelier course, something that only a fraction of the participants did the first time around.
She almost laughed. Her ten-year plan. A plan that might take a heck of a lot longer than the ten years she’d banked on.
Main courses arrived and the tables ate in relative silence as the awards proceeded. Some Highly Commended awards were awarded to local wineries, the crowd vocal in their appreciation and support.
Belle glanced at a very worried Jack, who’d begun to jiggle around in his chair like a child on a sugar high. She placed her hand on his arm.
“Stop stressing. You’ve obviously scored higher than that.”
Jack frowned. “Yeah, or I totally bombed out.”
“Not possible.”
She glanced Dante’s way; a similar worried look was etched across his face. She looked closer. He actually looked sick to the stomach.
She ached to go to him, to comfort him. She knew how much time and effort and research had gone into his two entries. Far more than even Jack’s.
She closed her eyes and sent all the love and supportive vibes she could in his direction, the support she didn’t dare show in public in case he simply didn’t want it.
She opened her eyes to see him staring at her.
Time seemed to slow. She couldn’t pull her gaze from his. She hoped to God above that he couldn’t see the desperate ache inside her through them.
Patrice squealed and Belle jumped, her heart almost jumping from her chest in protest.
“What the …”
Jack’s face beamed back at her. “Holy shit!”
Belle looked at the screen.
Sapphire Sky Mourvèdre—GOLD.
Belle’s mouth fell open. Shock stripped her of all thought. Shaken from her stupor by the swirling cheers from the crowd around them, she threw her arms around her brother and squeezed tight.
“Oh, Jack! You so deserve this.”
Jack squeezed back. “I couldn’t have done it without your support, sis. You and Dante. You guys rock.”
Belle scrunched her eyes tight, not wanting to break down and blubber there in public. “You did all the work. This is yours alone, Jack.”
People came from all around to slap him on the back and congratulate him. Belle managed to see Dante looking at their table through all the shifting, standing bodies. He looked as happy as Jack was.
Relief flooded her. She’d been worried he’d be sad. He’d placed so much on getting recognition for their winery on this competition. She hoped with everything in her that he would be recognised for his effort.
“Now awarding Platinum placings. Sapphire Sky—Mourvèdre.”
Belle blinked in shock. Jack gripped her thigh tight enough that it almost hurt.
“Jack? You did it.”
He faced her, tears gathering in his eyes. People crowded them, congratulations coming thick and fast from all around.
The constant surge of people congratulating them finally began to settle as the awards continued through the varieties and price brackets.
Belle looked up at the screen as dessert was placed in front of her.
Sangiovese.
One of Dante’s entries was Sangiovese.
Belle couldn’t swallow the bite of cheesecake she’d taken. She could barely breathe as they moved through the medal list.
“Casellati Estate Sangiovese—GOLD.”
The entire room was silent, then erupted into loud calls and whistles.
Belle sought Dante’s face. She couldn’t see him through the throng of people crowding their table. Happiness threatened to overwhelm her. First, her brother, now Dante? She couldn’t believe it.
She grinned to herself. Of course she could. He was the best winemaker she’d ever seen.
The drone of the award list in the background went on, continuing through the placings, then moving on to the next variety.
Gold. Dante had got gold for his little Sangiovese. His father would be so happy; it was his favourite wine. While not proceeding to a higher placing, she knew it wouldn’t matter to Dante. He’d be beyond ecstatic.
“Naked Wines.”
Belle looked at the screen again and the room fell silent. They all knew Dante had been working on his pet project of a naked variety. Vines his father had brought over from Cividale so long ago had been planted and had thrived against all odds in the Crossing. They’d loved the soil so much that they’d grown thick and large, the original ten vines having been propagated and planted a few years later to amount to the decent-sized patch they now had.
The entire room seemed to hold its breath as the announcer moved through the medal placings.
“Casellati Estate Friulano Naked—GOLD.”
Screams and yells echoed throughout the room, so many that they almost missed the next amazing words.
“Casellati Estate Friulano Naked—PLATINUM.”
Belle screamed along with the rest of them. She couldn’t see. Tears obstructed everything. Her chest heaved. She put her fingers to her lips.
“Casellati Estate Friulano Naked—BEST IN SHOW.”
The room went wild. Belle’s fingers shook so hard she nearly couldn’t do it, but she let out the loudest wolf-whistle she’d ever managed to expel.
*
“Casellati Estate Friulano Naked—BEST IN SHOW.”
Dante was certain his heart had stopped. Just stopped dead.
No way. Best in Show?
The eruption of the entire room around him seemed surreal. Bodies moved and pressed and touched and he sat still in the centre.
Best in Show.
His whole life had just changed in the few brief moments that it took for the CEO of Wine Australia to announce his fate.
It started with shivers up his spine. Gasping breath.
He needed to move.
A full-throttle wolf-whistle that could only have come from one mouth jumpstarted his heart.
He shot up in his chair and looked for the only person he wanted to see. Over the heads of the thronging crowd, he spotted her.
She stood facing him. Her hands covered her mouth, her face awash with tears. Her shoulders shook.
He shoved his way through the throng, ignoring those around him, determined to get to her.
Her opinion was the only one that mattered right now.
He finally reached her and stopped a few feet away. Her tremulous smile showed him all he needed to see.
She was happy for him.
Dante threw his arms around her and hugged her tight. He buried his face in her shoulder and breathed deep.
By God, he’d missed her.
Her scent, her voice, her touch.
Whatever happened sexually was beside the point. He needed her. The threat of the loss of her friendship, even for a few pain-filled, torturous days, was too much. He couldn’t let it happen again.
“Dante!” She tightened her grip around his neck. “I’m so happy for you.”
“It’s because of you. You gave me the strength to do this. You made me believe in myself. This is more than I could ever have hoped for.”
Belle pulled back and swiped at her wet, smiling face. “No one deserves it more.”
He lifted her chin and rubbed his thumb over her jaw. “We can’t ever let this happen again. I’m sorry I upset you. I’m sorry I didn’t call back.”
She started to shake her head at his first words. “Don’t even think of apologising. It was all me. I should never had treated you like that. It’s going to take me a long time to make it up to you.”
“A round on the house!! Everyone charge those glasses!” Jonathan called. Waitstaff hurried around the room to fill everyone’s glasses. “To Dante and Jack!”
“Dante and Jack!” the whole room chorused.
Pride at their accomplishments flooded him as he looked around at people he’d known most of his life, interspersed with some ring-ins. Leo grabbed Dante’s arm.
“Come on, dude. We’re gonna celebrate! The local news wants a piece of you.”
Dante looked behind Leo to where Angie Schultz of the Bialga Daily News stood waiting, not so patiently.
“Looks like you’re a popular boy tonight, Dan.”
He knew his grin wouldn’t fade for weeks. “It’s about time, right?” He winked, making her laugh. He leaned in close to her ear to make sure she heard him over the boisterous racket in the room. Music started up, forcing him to raise his voice.
“I need to talk to you later, okay? If not tonight, then early tomorrow?”
Belle nodded. “Definitely.”
He leaned back. “We’re good?”
She smiled and squeezed his hands. “We’re good.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, unsure if she’d object if he did what he really wanted and slow kissed her in front of half the town.
“Later then, brat.”
He pulled his gaze from hers as he let Leo drag him for a victory lap around the room, exasperated reporter in tow.