The Vineyards Of Calanetti. Rebecca Winters

door.

      Because it was a weekday, the place was nearly empty. The television above the shelves of whiskey, gin and rum entertained the two locals sitting at the short shiny wood bar. The old squat bartender leaned against a cooler beside the four beer taps. Flames danced in the stone fireplace and warmed the small, hometown bar. As his eyes adjusted to the low lights, Rafe saw a pretty blonde girl sitting alone at a table in the back.

      Dani.

      He didn’t know whether to shake his head or turn around and walk out. Still, when her blue eyes met his, he saw sadness that sent the heat of guilt lancing though him.

      Before he could really think it through, he walked over to her table and sat across from her.

      “Great. Just what every girl wants. To sit and have a drink with the boss who yells at her all day.”

      He frowned. “Is that why you grew so quiet today? Because I yelled at you? I didn’t yell. I just didn’t take your suggestion. And that is my right. I am your boss.”

      She sucked in a breath and reached for her beer. “Yes, I know.”

      “You’ve always known that. You ignore it, but you’ve always known. So this time, why are you so upset?”

      She didn’t reply. Instead, she reached for her coat and purse as if she intended to go. He caught her arm and stopped her.

      Her gaze dropped to his hand, then met his.

      Confused, he held her blue, blue eyes, as his fingers slid against her soft pink skin. The idea of having an affair with her popped into his head again. They were both incredibly passionate people and they’d probably set his bedroom on fire, if they could stop arguing long enough to kiss.

      “Please. If I did something wrong, tell me—”

      An unexpected memory shot through him. He hadn’t cared what a woman thought since Kamila. The reminder of how he’d nearly given up his dream for her froze the rest of what he wanted to say on his tongue and forced him back to business mode.

      “If you are gruff with customers I need to know why.”

      “I’m not gruff with customers.” Her voice came out wispy and smoky.

      “So it’s just me, then?”

      “Every time I try to be nice to you, you argue with me.”

      He laughed. “When did you try to be nice to me?”

      “That suggestion about lunch wasn’t a bad one. And I came to you politely—”

      “And I listened until you wouldn’t quit arguing. Then I had to stop you.”

      “Yes. But after that you told Emory I wasn’t needed.” She sniffed a laugh. “I heard you telling him you didn’t even want me around.”

      His eyes narrowed on her face. “I tell Emory things like that all the time. I vent. It’s how I get rid of stress.”

      “Maybe you should stop that.”

      He laughed, glad his feisty Dani was returning. “And maybe you should stop listening at the door?”

      She shook her head and shrugged out of his hold. “I wasn’t listening. You were talking loud enough that I could easily hear you through the door.”

      She rose to leave again. This time he had no intention of stopping her, but a wave of guilt sluiced through him. Her face was still sad. Her blue eyes dull. All because of his attempt to blow off steam.

      She only got three steps before he said, “Wait! You are right. I shouldn’t have said you weren’t wanted. I rant to Emory all the time. But usually no one hears me. So it doesn’t matter.”

      She stopped but didn’t return to her seat. Standing in the glow of the fireplace, she said, “If that’s an apology, it’s not a very good one.”

      No. He supposed it wasn’t. But nobody ever took his rants so seriously. “Why did it upset you so much to hear you weren’t wanted?”

      She said nothing.

      He rose and walked over to her. When she wouldn’t look at him, he lifted her chin until her gaze met his. “There is a story there.”

      “Of course there’s a story there.”

      He waited for her to explain, but she said nothing. The vision of her walking sadly around the restaurant filled his brain. He’d insulted hundreds of employees before, trying to get them to work harder, smarter, but from the look in her eyes he could see this was personal.

      “Can you tell me?”

      She shrugged away again. “So you can laugh at me?”

      “I will not laugh!” He sighed, softened his voice. “Actually, I’m hoping that if you tell me it will keep me from hitting that nerve again.”

      “Really?”

      “I’m not an idiot. I don’t insult people to be cruel. When I vent to Emory it means nothing. When I yell at my employees I’m trying to get the best out of them. With you, everything’s a bit different.” He tossed his hands. He wouldn’t tell her that part of the problem was his attraction. Especially since he went back and forth about pursuing it. Maybe if he’d just decide to take romance off the table, become her friend, things between them would get better? “It might be because you’re American not European. Whatever the case, I’d like to at least know that I won’t insult you again.”

      The bartender walked over. He gruffly threw a beer coaster on the table, even though Dani and Rafe stood by the fireplace. “What’ll it be?”

      Rafe tugged Dani’s hand. “Come. We’ll get a nice Merlot. And talk.”

      She slid her hand out of his, but she did return to her seat. He named the wine he wanted from the bartender, and with a raise of his bushy brows, the bartender scrambled off to get it. When he returned with the bottle and two glasses, Rafe shooed him away, saying he’d pour.

      Dani frowned. “No time for breathing?”

      He chuckled. “Ah. So she thinks she knows wine?”

      Her head lowered. “I don’t.”

      His eyes narrowed as he studied her. The sad demeanor was back. The broken woman. “And all this rolls together with why I insulted you when I said you weren’t wanted?”

      She sighed. “Sort of. I don’t know how to explain this so you’ll understand, but the people I’m looking for aren’t my relatives.”

      He smiled. “They’re people who owe you money?”

      She laughed. The first genuine laugh in hours and the tight ball of tension in Rafe’s gut unwound.

      “They are the family of the woman who was my foster mother.”

      “Foster mother?”

      “I was taken from my mother when I was three. I don’t remember her. In America, when a child has no home, he or she is placed with a family who has agreed to raise her.” She sucked in a breath and took the wineglass he offered her. “Foster parents aren’t required to keep you forever. So if something happens, they can give you back.”

      She tried to calmly give the explanation but the slight wobble of her voice when she said “give you back” caused the knot of tension to reform in Rafe’s stomach. He imagined a little blue-eyed, blonde girl bouncing from home to home, hugging a scraggly brown teddy bear, and his throwaway comment about her not being wanted made his heart hurt.

      “I’m sorry.”

      She sipped her wine. “And right about now, I’m feeling pretty stupid. You’re a grouch. A perfectionist who yells at everyone. I should have realized you were venting.” She met his gaze. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

      “You do realize you just