one of his pinot noir blends won an award last year.
He winked at her. “It’s better than Armstrong.”
Jenn laughed. “Of course you’d say that.”
“I’m completely unbiased.” Suddenly he frowned down at the spare, which he’d dropped on the ground from the hitch. “Your spare is flat.”
“What?” Jenn bent and pressed against the tire. It gave like a marshmallow. “But it’s new. I got five new tires only a few months ago.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to tow your car. Have you got AAA?”
“No, my uncle owns a garage,” Jenn said. “He always gives me free towing. I’ll call him.”
But when she got hold of her Uncle Roger at his auto repair shop, he said, “Sorry, Jenn, I won’t be able to tow it until later this afternoon. You don’t need to stay with your car—just tell me where it is and I’ll bring it in. You can get a ride home, right?”
Jenn told this to Trish, who pulled out her phone. “I guess we’ll miss our tasting appointment. Oh, no. My battery’s dead.”
“You can use mine,” Jenn said.
“No, I have the winery’s number on my phone. You don’t have it, do you?”
Jenn shook her head, then turned back to the handsome stranger. “You don’t happen to have your competitor’s phone number, do you?”
He smiled again, and Jenn’s stomach flipped. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll ask my cousin to come pick you up and take you to the winery.”
“We can’t ask you to do that,” Trish protested.
“I don’t mind. It’s my day off today. I’m also good friends with Barry Armstrong and I can make sure he treats you right, as opposed to their normal tasting room manager. And then you’ll come to Castillo to taste our wines, right?”
Trish laughed. “Okay!”
Jenn wanted to match her exuberance, but she worried about inconveniencing this man and his cousin. She always felt like a wet blanket around Trish. And she didn’t even know the guy’s name.
She waited until he had called his cousin and disconnected his cell phone. “I’m Jennifer Lim,” she said, extending a hand.
“Edward Castillo.”
His clasp was warm—no, hot. But not sweaty hot or uncomfortable hot. More like energizingly hot. His palm was slightly rough, as if he spent a lot of time doing rough jobs, maybe working in the vineyard. And he seemed reluctant to let go of her hand, which gave her heart a little blip of Whoopee!
“I’m Trish Sakai. Jenn and I are cousins.”
A slow smile that seemed aimed at Jenn. “I could tell.”
Really? Trish was ten times prettier—most people said so. The best they could ever say about Jenn was that she had a deep, husky Lauren Bacall voice. Somehow Edward’s words seemed like a compliment she might actually believe about herself.
His cousin David arrived within only a few minutes. “That was fast,” Jenn remarked as a pick up truck rattled to a halt in front of them.
“The back entrance to Castillo is only a mile up the road,” Edward said. “Armstrong is about ten miles beyond that.”
Trish was about to hop into the truck, but then she turned and gave Jenn that coy, I’m going to do something you’ll hate but it’ll be good for you look. “Jenn, didn’t you tell me you’ve always wanted to ride a Harley?”
What?! A pulse of abject fear swallowed her exclamation.
Trish turned guileless eyes to Edward. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, but if you’d be willing to indulge a girl …”
He jumped on the suggestion. “I’d be happy to.” He extended a hand to Jenn. “I have an extra helmet with me, too.”
That hand was a tempter, enticing her onto that chrome-gilded death trap on two very small wheels. But the hand was confident, and its owner even more so. And while the death trap would have normally sent her screaming in the opposite direction, that hand pulled her like a truffle to a chocoholic.
“S-sure.” She gave him her hand, which felt numb and cold.
He