“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.”
“We never said this bet was reasonable,” I reply calmly. Freaking cheapskate Gage. “Forty-five days or you pay up now. It’s your choice.” I know I won’t be in any sort of relationship in that amount of time. Give me a break.
“I want to add a stipulation.” Archer grins. “No sex either. So no relationship, no sex, no one night stands, nothing for you, Matt, for the next forty-five days. You withstand it, you’ll get your million bucks . . . plus another two-hundred fifty thousand to make it interesting.”
“No freaking way,” Gage says.
“Yes—way, jackass. We’re doing it,” Archer says, not even letting him argue.
“Fine. Deal,” I say firmly. I’ve gone this long without sex, what’s another forty-five days? I can handle it.
“God, you disappoint me. You’re so confident. I’d think you’d at least want to get some on occasion, you know?” Gage shakes his head, but I ignore him.
“I’m agreeing to this,” I say. “I’m sure you two losers need the time anyway to gather up the funds to pay me so I get it. I can be a patient guy. No problem. But in forty-five days, I want my money. No excuses, no bullshit. Six hundred and twenty-five thousand each.”
“Then we have a deal,” Archer says, a sly grin on his face. The ass**le is up to something, I can tell.
And I don’t like it.
“Whatever. Deal,” Gage says much more reluctantly. The guy hates nothing more than wasting money, and I’m sure he views this payout as the ultimate waste.
“So I hear Ivy’s taken your assistant out for lunch and shopping today,” Archer says, his voice casual. Too casual. “What gives?”
“Really?” Curiosity fills me. I knew Ivy had taken a liking to Bryn and Bryn felt the same. But I didn’t realize they’d become that close.
“Yep.” Archer nods. “I heard something mentioned about a makeover.”
“Marina went with them too,” Gage confirms.
Shit. Now I’m really starting to sweat. Bad enough I’m attracted to Bryn despite her boring clothes and uninspired appearance. It was her damn scent. God, she smelled f**king fabulous. Sweet and fruity yet floral and with this hint of spice that I can’t quite put my finger on.