Wright with Benefits

Switching to my text message, I pressed J and sent the photo to Jennifer with a text.

Having the best time!

I slid my phone back into my purse and went back to dancing. I was perfectly content to let the alcohol whisk me away. After all, this was what my life would be like in a few short months. Far away in a place I’d never lived before, where no one knew who I was. That was what I wanted…right?

17

Jordan

My phone buzzed noisily in my pocket.

“Excuse me for a minute,” I said.

I stepped away from Sophia as she lingered over the cellar barrels. She waved me off, unperturbed by the interruption.

A text waited for me from Annie. I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t decide if this was going to be good or bad. With Annie, I could never tell anymore. Especially after how she’d left it at the bar.

I’d been drunk enough not to remember the rest of the night, but I had crystal-clear images of Annie telling me it was this or nothing. When we’d started, I’d thought, What’s the harm? Annie and I fit, and it was better than being at each other’s throats. I hadn’t thought that it would be anything more than that. Hadn’t thought I’d want anything more.

And now…I was uncertain.

And she didn’t care.

So, why the hell was she texting me?

I opened the message and immediately went cold.

It was a picture of Annie with what I was guessing were other residents or resident-hopefuls in Dallas. I zeroed in on the guy next to her. Tall and blond and, I could even admit, attractive. He looked like summer to my winter. Light to my dark. A cutting baby face and probably a pretentious prick.

I glowered at the shot. He had his hands all over her. His arm around her waist. Low. Touching her hip, dragging her in closer to him. His chest pressed nearly into her back.

Other people occupied the frame—a Black guy in a pink shirt with short hair, a short Indian woman with eyes only for the woman next to her, who looked like an actress I was certain I should have recognized, and a few others in the background. None of them seemed to be a threat. Except the blond guy…touching Annie.

Why the hell had she sent me this?

My anger flared hot in a second, and I thought about sending her a picture of Sophia and me together just for spite. But it cooled instantly.

Sophia and I weren’t here for pleasure…only business. I didn’t know what Annie was doing out at a bar with this guy, but I was jumping to conclusions, assuming that she was there with him for anything but business. Would I fault her for cozying up to the residents so that they’d recommend her? No.

I clenched my jaw, indecision warring through me. An unfamiliar feeling to be sure. Not responding would send a message. Responding would send a message. I needed to choose my words carefully.

“Everything all right?” Sophia asked.

She wore a low-cut blouse and a fitted black pencil skirt. She was still bent over, looking at a barrel, but her eyes were on mine. Had she chosen that pose so that I’d see nothing but ass and tits?

I averted my gaze. She was attractive, but…

But what?

Why shouldn’t I be interested in her? She wasn’t stringing me along. She wanted more than friends with benefits. She was clearly here right now.

“Fine,” I said. “Just a friend.”

I looked down at the picture again and sighed, sending off a message back.

Glad you’re having a good time, Annie.

Then I turned the ringer off and stuffed it back in my pocket. No more distractions.

“All set.”

“Well, I think you have an excellent starting point here. These barrels are in great condition. It’s lucky that they left you so much equipment,” Sophia said, finally standing and brushing her hands off on her skirt.

“Hollin said the same thing.”

“You’re lucky to have him on board, too.”

“We wouldn’t even be doing this if it wasn’t for him.”

Sophia smiled. “Well, I’m sorry we had to reschedule so many times, but I’m glad that I was able to see the property. It’s a smaller operation than the vineyards I worked at in Napa. With some care, I think it’ll be a great contender in the state. Get a good sommelier in here, get the right blend going, and you could be on your way to winning awards in a year or two.”

“Not that soon,” I insisted.

“You’d be surprised at how fast it can happen if the grapes are already set. If you’re starting with fresh grapes…” She waved her hand as if that would be the worst thing imaginable. “I was in Napa one year when a wildfire caught the edge of a grapevine. The whole field went up in a matter of hours. Six years of careful tending, gone.”