Leaning Into a Wish: Leaning Into Stories, #4

By Lane Hayes

Ryan Haskell loves everything about the wine business. He's fortunate to work at one of the most prestigious wineries in Napa Valley doing something he enjoys with the people who are like family to him. But he could do without the good-natured intern slash former jock with the wicked grin who always seems to be in the way. Ryan isn’t sure why the new guy is under his skin when everyone else loves him. Thankfully he'll be gone after the holidays. 

Danny Meyers can’t believe his luck when he lands an internship at Conrad Winery. It’s the perfect temporary gig to wrap up his graduate studies. He's left his dreams of tennis stardom on the court to focus on a new career and a new life. However, he didn't count on the spark of attraction he feels for his prickly co-worker. When their tentative friendship blossoms into something more than either man counted on, they may have to change direction and lean into a holiday wish.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lane Hayes
• Release date: Nov 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386979814

Lane Hayes

Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in an almost empty nest.

Book preview

1

A lovely thing about Christmas is that it’s compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together.—Garrison Keillor,  Leaving Home

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Burgundy liquid kissed the rim before cascading elegantly into the wineglass. The gaggle of young women on the other side of the bar gasped with pleasure as though they’d never witnessed anyone quite so talented at the art of pouring. No doubt they were a few wineries into their Napa Valley girls’ weekend getaway, but their wide-eyed wonderment still made me smile. I filled four glasses with the standard tasting amount then slid one in front of each of them.

This is our Pinot Reserve, I paused until they’d all taken a sip before adding, You might note a hint of fruit like raspberries or—

The boisterous guffaw a few feet away threw me off stride. I cleared my throat, hoping to send a signal to my coworker without interrupting him but as usual, Danny was in his own world. He had no clue that his voice carried across the cavernous tasting room and ricocheted off the walls. Apparently he thought he was back in college, flirting with a posse of sorority girls after a football game. He’d brought his A-game this afternoon for sure, charming the hell out of the other half of the girls’ party with an ease I would have admired…if he’d just tone it down a notch.

I continued my spiel about the broad range of the Pinot’s bouquet, flavor, and texture, but I couldn’t help stealing surreptitious side-eyed glances at the action next to me. Three pretty women in their late twenties leaned over the bar, twittering merrily at the intern’s snappy repartee. I had to hand it to the guy. Danny’s affable, good ol’ boy demeanor paired with a winning smile, twinkling blue eyes, and killer body were only a few of his natural assets. He also had a brain. Every time I started to reprimand him about his overly friendly style of wine pouring, I overheard him giving in-depth information regarding grape varietals and their sensitivities to weather fluctuations. He knew his stuff and he could sell. In fact, he currently had the lead in our monthly in-house sales contest.

Asshole. I hated Danny Meyers.

Okay, fine. That was a lie. I tried, but it was hard to dislike him. Danny was just too damn good-natured and upbeat. He reminded me of a six-foot-two Energizer bunny—always grinning and looking at the bright side. How annoying was that?

Hey, Ry, we need your help on this one. What did the grape say before it was crushed?

I turned to give him an exasperated look before replying in a clipped tone. I don’t know.

Danny rolled his eyes then held his hand out in invitation for my customers to weigh in. Would any of you care to give it a try? So far we have, ‘Don’t make me into jelly,’ ‘Harder please,’ ‘Raisins suck,’ and ‘I don’t know.’ Usually I’d say there’s no wrong answer but in this case, I think I’ve got four lemons.

Where’s the lemonade? one of his customers exclaimed with a drunken snort that sent both our parties into a new round of hysterics.

I pasted a tight smile on my face, stepped sideways, then bumped Danny’s shoulder and lowered my voice for his ears only. You’re overpouring. Time to cut them off.

He caught my elbow before I could move away and leaned in so close his breath tickled my earlobe. Relax, Ry. They have an air-conditioned, chauffeur-driven bus waiting to whisk them to the next wine stop. Don’t poop on their party.

I tugged on his snug-fitting black T-shirt and pointed at the Conrad Winery logo emblazoned on the front. This isn’t a bar. It’s a respected winery. You don’t get extra credit for selling wine and getting phone numbers on the sly. Remember where you are. If you want to meet up with hot chicks after work, go for it. But right now, you’re on company time.

Danny’s perpetual smile morphed from inviting to something closer to downright dangerous in seconds flat. And fuck, that cocky grin went straight to my dick.

Chicks? Show some respect, Haskell. That is your last name, right? ’Cause if it isn’t Conrad, I’m pretty fucking sure I don’t work for you.

Then he winked at me before turning back to his customers. Yes, winked. I stood there, seething for a few moments, unsure I was capable of opening up my mouth without going ape-shit crazy. And it wasn’t because he’d just put me in my place midpour. It was what I had a feeling he’d do next that drove me nuts.

All right, folks, in a twist it seems my coworker here actually does know what the grape said before it was crushed…but Ryan’s a little shy. He’s gonna need some encouragement. Danny held up his hands like an orchestra conductor and led his small audience in an obnoxious chant of, Tell us, tell us, until I finally gave in.

Nothing, but it may have whined a little, I said through my teeth.

The room erupted with an immediate whoop of laughter followed by a round of applause. I tried to play it off and refocus my customers’ attention on whatever special properties about the wine I could remember, but my concentration was shot. I would have loved to clear the room and start over again with a new group of wine enthusiasts and ideally, a different intern. This one was too fucking irritating. But my fairy godmother was absent yet again or simply done taking my requests. I was on my own. With Danny Meyers and his fan club.

I leaned against the sleek wood bar and perused the tasting room as my customers chatted amongst themselves. A group of middle-aged friends from the city lounged on the leather chairs facing the gigantic stone fireplace on the other side of the room, and a few couples were scattered around the bar area, sampling Conrad’s finest. Geordie, my immediate boss and co-owner of the winery, was engaged in an animated conversation with a heavyset older man sitting at one of the high-top tables next to the picture window overlooking the vineyard. I didn’t see Lauren, but she was probably at the register.

We were short-staffed for a Saturday crowd. Even in late October on a postharvest beautiful Northern California day, it was unusual to have this many walk-ins before closing time. The Conrad Winery staff was competent and more than capable of handling unexpected clients, but the steady barrage was exhausting. One of the interns hadn’t shown up, which left the rest of us to pick up the slack. Normally, I enjoyed the frenetic pace and I could happily talk about all aspects of the wine business to anyone interested. But today, I was over it. My feet hurt, I was tired, and I wanted to get away from Danny before I gave in to the urge to smack him upside his handsome head.

I mulled over my evening plans, which basically came down to Netflix and chill. The new Planet of the Apes looked good. Maybe I’d order a large pizza, open a bottle of vino, put my feet up and—

What time is that thing at Wes and Nick’s place tonight? Danny asked, breaking me from my reverie.

Oh. Yeah.

It’s right after closing, I replied matter-of-factly as though his reminder hadn’t just crushed my hopes for a quiet night at home.

Whatever. Wes’s impromptu postharvest gatherings were usually fun. Everyone at the winery worked their asses off between August and October. Harvest was an intense season that required maximum energy on a minimal amount of sleep. It took an enormous amount of manpower to pick the grapes, process, and crush them. And time was of the essence.

Conrad Winery was inundated with a bevy of interns willing to work their fingers to the bone for minimum wage and course credits. They came in eager and ready to prove themselves in their chosen field and left in a state of utter exhaustion. Most retreated home in mid-October to catch up on their sleep, lick their wounds, and sometimes start physical therapy for chronic carpal tunnel. No joke. Harvest kicked ass and took names later. Only a few of the scrappier souls were granted the honor of continued employment at the winery afterward. Six years ago, I was one of them. And now…Danny.

I doubted he’d stay though. He might last through the holidays but come January, there’d be nothing to keep him here. Off-season was for vintners and hardcore wine lovers. Not for pretty boys who thrived on female attention.

Gotcha. Wait for me after work. We can walk up there together, Danny said conversationally.

I eyed him suspiciously. Why?

I’m scared of the dark, Haskell. Why else? He flashed a Cheshire cat grin at me before turning back to his adoring customers.

See what I mean? Annoying.

The tasting room doors closed at six, but it usually took twenty minutes or more before the last few patrons left for the night and another twenty to straighten up for the cleaning crew. I tidied my section of the bar then pulled out my phone and scrolled through email messages while I waited for Geordie, Lauren, and Danny to finish.

Do you want a ride home, Ry? I want to change first. I feel too grubby for a swanky dinner at Chez Conrad, Lauren groused as she hooked her purse over her arm.

No, thanks. If I go home, I won’t want to come back. I’m exhausted.

Me too, but I heard Wes hired a chef from that new Spanish fusion restaurant in town. I wouldn’t miss this for a box of mac n’ cheese, that’s for sure. And now that the bulk of the newbies are gone, it will be more intimate, she commented, casting a quick glance toward Danny who was chatting with Geordie under the giant spherical chandelier delineating the main tasting room and the adjoining lounge area.

I narrowed my gaze and gave her a sharp look. You have a crush on the intern.

Shh! I do not. I think he has a girlfriend back in Denver anyway. But I sure hope he lasts through the holidays. Gotta love Christmas eye candy, she said, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. See ya there, Ry.

Geordie waved when Lauren called out a quick good-bye, then he clapped and motioned for me to join him and Danny. "Are you ready, darling? You and Danny can escort me as far as my place. I call middle!"

I snickered at Geordie’s over-the-top fabulousness and then