“You’re the most eligible bachelor in the entire area,” Gage adds.
Holy shit. These two have spent way too much time with their women. “You guys sound like a bunch of gossiping hens. Are you for real? Did you really just say I’m the most eligible bachelor?” I pause. “And that all the single women under the age of fifty are interested? I mean what the hell?”
“Hey, there are a lot of women out there who don’t care if they’re older than you. They’re looking for a man, doesn’t matter his age,” Archer says, a hint of a smile curling his lips.
That little smile makes me want to punch him. “And how do you know this?” Anger and embarrassment war within me. It’s bad enough the entire community is waiting with baited breath for me to fail in the winery business. Worse, there’s supposedly a line of single women desperate to get their claws in me?
I swear I’ll never have any respect in this town. None. Zero.
“I hear talk. I’ve lived in the Napa Valley for a while now. I have a lot of connections. Ivy’s gained a lot of connections in a short amount of time with her work. We’re in the know and things are definitely being said about you,” Archer explains.
“Marina has lived here her entire life. She’s heard plenty lately. There’s a lot of gossip that goes down in that little bakery of hers, especially in the morning when everyone’s grabbing a coffee,” Gage says. “She says the buzz is heavy about the winery, about you. Everyone’s curious.”
Holy hell. This just . . . sucks. I don’t want to be the mockery of the Napa wine country. I’m trying to start a new life here. Become a different person. Not be known as the hotshot player son of former hotshot player—and notorious hothead—Vinnie DeLuca. Dad played for the Oakland A’s years ago when I was a little kid and earned his reputation as a troublemaker from the very start.
Many in the profession expected me to follow in his footsteps. I showed talent early. I was a cocky ass**le in high school because I knew I was damn good. But I wasn’t a mean ass**le who always tried to get in fights. That’s more my father’s style.
I never wanted to be like him, not like that.
Ever.
“So everyone’s gossiping about me and my potential love life,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Well, yeah and so are we because we’re concerned, man. You’re working too hard. You need to relax and live a little. You’ve always been a little intense when it comes to your career,” Archer says.
I study Archer, see the worry filling his eyes. Yeah, we all give each other shit, but he’s being serious. He’s concerned for my welfare and I appreciate that.
“The minute this reopening party is done, I’m going to tone it down,” I vow, feeling like I’m making some sort of solemn promise. “You’re right. I can’t continue to work at this pace; it’ll drive me into an early grave.”
“Hell yeah, it will. You gotta find balance,” says the second biggest workaholic I know, Gage.
Balance. I really have no idea what it is or how to get it.
“And you gotta get laid,” Archer adds with a chuckle. “We gotta find you a woman. I’m sure Ivy has some single friends.”
“So does Marina. She knows everyone,” Gage says.
Now they want to set me up. Great. “I can find my own woman, thank you very much.”
“Really? Because you’re doing a pretty piss-poor job of it at the moment.” Gage laughs and Archer joins in.
“Like I have time,” I mutter. Realization hits, and I decide to go in for the kill. “And hey, maybe I’m waiting because I’m in need of my payment.”
“Payment?” They both echo, like it was rehearsed.
I want to knock them both upside their heads.
“Yeah, that little bet we made months ago? I’m here to collect,” I say, my voice smug. “So pay up.”
“We don’t owe you shit,” Archer mutters.
“Who’s the last man standing, hmm? I want my million dollars.” I could funnel it right back into the business. Hell, I’d probably give these two bastards a share of the profits from what I’d reinvest. I’m fair like that. I take care of my friends.
“There is no way I’m paying you. That was a bullshit bet,” Gage protests.
“You’re only saying it’s bullshit because you lost.” I drain my beer and set the empty bottle on the table with a loud thunk. “I expect payment within seven days.”
“Oh, listen to you, all formal and shit. How about we make this a little more interesting.” Archer leans back in his chair, a gleam in his eye.
Anticipation rolls through my brain, hums through my blood. “I’m open. What are you talking about?”
“Give us sixty days. If you’re still single within that time period, we’ll pay you fair and square,” Archer says.
“But—” Gage starts but Archer silences him with a look.
“Sixty days? How about thirty?” I laugh. “I won’t be with any woman in thirty days, especially in a relationship with one.”
“Thirty? That’s too short. None of us expect you to be in a relationship in thirty freaking days,” Archer says. “Make it forty-five.”
“Forty-five?” Gage asks. He sounds horrified. “I still think that’s too short. How about ninety? That’s more reasonable.”