Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I tuck them in a file, then into the top drawer of my desk. “Are we getting any work done today?”
“Of course. I’ve already sent several invoices to wedding clients, and I talked to your mom for a bit.”
“Oh yeah?” I haven’t seen her in more than a month. “How’s France?”
“Wonderful, and then she said c’est la vie.” She laughs, but then loses all the humor. “And your brother got two accounts.”
“It only took five months of traveling through France’s wine country.” I wanted that job so badly I could taste it. I have a few more things to work out since it wouldn’t only be me, but I wasn’t even under consideration. I’m bitter, but that’s not my brother’s fault. “That’s good. Just one will open many other doors. Any word on their return?”
“Nope. She just left a message to check in with you.”
“At least she hasn’t forgotten me entirely,” I tease, but I’m not sure how much of that is a joke.
Spinning in her chair, Savvy watches through the large glass panes behind her. Crowds of people cut across the grass with baskets hanging on their arms as they head toward the vines. “It’s going to be a busy day if guests are showing up so early at the winery.”
“It’s smart to beat the heat when walking the vineyards with tour groups. By the time they return, it will be lunch and time to drink the day away under the oaks on the front forty.” I try not to complain about the visitors to the winery since they’ve made the business what it is today, but I hate these large lookie-loo windows. “I’m glad we’ll be moving into the new offices upstairs soon.”
“I stopped in yesterday for a peek. I’d be surprised if it takes another week to finish.”
“The pretty touches take time, my dear.” Lowering my glasses from the top of my head to the bridge of my nose, I grin as I log onto my computer. “I’d rather have it done before furniture is moved in. I’ll stop in later if I get a chance. Your Griffin Greene—”
“Mine? Now he’s mine? Not sure Blake’s going to like that.” She giggles.
“He may not be yours, but you seem to really want to support this guy.” I roll my eyes. “Anyway, Jerk-face hasn’t signed the contract for the game. So—”
“Why, pray tell, is he a jerk-face?”
“I don’t have the energy to go over that exhaustive list. Just trust me. Also, guess who needs to get the paperwork wrapped up?”
Her eyes widen. “You?”
“You guessed it. Can’t wait,” I reply sarcastically and throw in some jazz hands for good measure.
“Doesn’t sound like a chore to me.” She grins. “He graduated with a degree in anthropology. I find that so impressive and kind of dreamy. My heart be still.”
“Why are we stilling hearts?” Anthropology, huh? The hard chest, the harder glare. The way he treated me like a fan of his . . . it’s hard to imagine him studying anything other than how to be an asshole when he grew up.
“Because he cares about humanity.”
I scoff, looking back at her again. “Studying humanity is not the same thing as caring about it.”
Shaking her head, she laughs. “He really put a bee in your bonnet, didn’t he?”
“No bees. No bonnet. But he did piss off his boss.”
“Uncle Bryan?” she deadpans, dragging my dad into this.
Savvy’s good. Very good. “It’s amazing how you know just the right buttons to push with me.”
“Aw, cousin,” she replies with a laugh. “It’s just because we know each other so well.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Payback and all that.”
With a heartier laugh, she stands just as the printer starts spitting out paper. “Can I quickly note that it’s adorable you already have a nickname for him?”
“Please don’t.”
“Bah humbug, Grinch.” After snatching several documents off the tray, she slaps them on my desk. “Good luck today. You’re going to need it.”
“I don’t need luck, ye of little faith.” Picking up the contract, I laugh. “But Griffin Greene does.”
Settling back at her desk, she replies, “I have no doubt he’ll need all the luck he can muster when he comes face-to-face with you. You’re known as a hard-ass for a reason.”
“No one says that.” I start to laugh.
She huffs. “Fine, I just call you that behind your back to get the other employees to treat me like I’m part of the team instead of a Dover who got the job by association.”
I can’t even fault her for it. It’s something we will always have to fight. We will always be proving ourselves even after succeeding. But I’m still not letting it go. “The reputation fits because I work my ass off to make it this hard, and I’m quite proud of it. Do you know how many squats I have—”
Her phone vibrating across the top of her desk silences me. It’s fun to work with my built-in family best friend, but sometimes we forget we’re supposed to be working, and as the events coordinator for Dover Creek Winery and operations manager of the team and stadium, our work never seems to end. We’re busier than ever and growing like wildfire. We both take pride in our contributions to the Dover empire.