Three Dog Night (The Dogmothers Book 2) Read online

“What’s up?” Alex turned off the water and stepped closer.

  They looked at each other, both hesitating for a moment, then Braden nodded. “Go ahead, Cass.”

  “You’re one hundred percent sure?” she asked.

  “Honey, I’d marry you tomorrow. I love this idea.”

  “What idea?” Alex asked.

  Cassie just grinned at him, then looked at Grace. “Look, first of all, feel free to say no. We don’t want to barge in on your big opportunity.” She bit her lip and looked from one to the other. “But what if there really was a wedding at this event? What would you think of that?”

  Grace lifted both brows. “I think that would be…pretty awesome.”

  “Really?” Cassie’s voice rose. “Because I know they’re paying for it, so I wouldn’t want to incur extra charges or make it my day, but Braden and I just talked about it and really wanted to see if you thought our getting married that day might work.”

  “Cassie, seriously?” Alex walked closer to his sister. “That’s what you guys want?”

  “Braden and I are dreading a major wedding—the money, the time, the stress. Nick won’t be back for ages, and who knows if we can align that with Theo’s next leave?”

  “And weddings that include the entire fire department can get huge,” Braden added. “Cassie said the whole family is on board to attend already, so that’s everyone we really want.”

  “Not to mention we’ve had a lot of weddings in this family in the past year or so.” Cassie shook her head with a soft laugh. “But, honestly, Grace, we don’t want to add any burden or expense. We’d pay for anything that is wedding-related and, added bonus, I really would be your event planner at absolutely no cost at all. And I can get great prices on everything. Feel free to think about it and let us know.”

  Grace pressed her hands together under her chin, her blue-green eyes bright. “You know, having a wedding during the dry run will not only add realism, it would up the emotional ante and make everyone all warm and gooey. If the ceremony is simple, it could add a magical element to the whole thing.”

  “Are you willing to share your day with Blue?” Alex asked, wanting to be positive this was what she wanted. “Because she and Scooter pretty much suck all the air out of every room they enter.”

  “I know I should be more into the idea of a wedding,” Cassie said with an apologetic shrug. “But I’ve organized a lot of them, been to more, and I am honestly overwhelmed at the idea of having one of my own. Plus, if we can save so much money…”

  “We can buy a house,” Braden said. “And we both think that’s more important.”

  “But you have to both agree,” Cassie insisted. “We don’t want to derail this critical day.”

  “No one else will have an actual wedding for the dry run,” Grace said. “And it sure would put love in the air, which is that indefinable ‘essence’ that Blue wants.”

  “But they’re bringing twenty-some people you don’t know from Adam,” Alex said, determined to be the devil’s advocate so his sister didn’t compromise on her wedding day.

  Cassie smiled at him. “My whole family will be there, and heck, maybe Blue can sing “Because I’m Crazy” for our first dance. How insane would that be?”

  Alex searched his sister’s face, knowing every angle, lash, and expression on that countenance since the day she was born. All he’d ever wanted to do was be sure she was happy. “If Nick’s not there, who’s going to walk you down the aisle?” he asked softly. “I always figured it would be Nick, since Dad died.”

  “You thought about that?”

  “You’re my little sister, Cass. Yes, I think about stuff like that.”

  “I could ask Daniel, if you think that’s okay. He’s our stepfather.”

  He considered that, then nodded slowly.

  “You don’t like the idea of Daniel walking me down the aisle?” Cassie asked.

  “I just want to be sure you’re not short-changing yourself when it comes to the wedding you’ve always wanted.”

  “Alex, this is the wedding I’ve always wanted. The winery is gorgeous. I’ll be surrounded by people I love. And…” She looked up at Braden. “I’m marrying Einstein, the most awesome man on earth.”

  Braden smiled at her, pulling her in for a kiss. “Cass. You slay me.”

  She laughed. “Because he says things like that.”

  “Then I guess it’s up to Grace.” He turned to her, now gauging her expression, which looked pretty positive. “Unless you think it would add a layer of complication that makes you nuts.”

  “You know, to be honest, I might go nuts if Cassie weren’t an event planner,” she said, nodding slowly. “But she knows more about weddings than I do. So I say yes.”

  “Really?” Cassie asked.

  “Really,” Grace confirmed. “I think it’ll be amazing.”

  “Thank you!” Cassie impulsively threw her arms around Grace and squeezed. She got that deer-in-the-headlights look in response as Grace reached up and patted Cassie’s arms, clearly out of her comfort zone with that kind of emotional outburst.

  “I’m so excited!” Cassie planted a sloppy kiss on Grace’s cheek, and Alex had to laugh at the way she froze.

  “C’mere, you.” He pulled Cassie off her and gave his sister a bear hug. “You’re a lucky man, Braden Mahoney,” he added, extending his hand to shake his future brother-in-law’s.

  “I had the idea during our family meeting,” Cassie said excitedly. “But I didn’t want to blow in here and take over this important event and make it about me.”

  “It’s about a wedding,” Grace said. “So I love the idea of having one.”

  Cassie clapped her hands and pressed her lips into her knuckles as if she couldn’t contain her joy. “I do want to keep it a surprise, though. Even from Mom. These things have a way of snowballing when other people get involved. Let’s just keep it together and since I’m helping you plan the event, no one will question when we talk and get together a lot over the next two weeks.”

  “Twelve days,” Alex corrected.

  Cassie and Braden shared a totally goofy grin. “Twelve days!” she said on a giggle.

  “Can’t wait, Cass.”

  Laughing, they left the kitchen, and Alex turned to Grace, eyeing her carefully. “My family might be a little too much for you.”

  “Your family is…” She took a minute to find the right words, staring after the couple who’d just left, shaking her head. “More than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

  “In a good way, I hope.”

  “In a way that makes me ache a little,” she admitted.

  “I don’t want you to ache.” He went to her, sliding his arms around her again. “Except when I kiss you. Then you can ache.”

  “I did,” she admitted on a whisper. “But…the good kind of ache.”

  He placed his lips on her head, saving a real kiss for a more private time and place. “When can we press the wine?”

  She laughed. “You’re relentless.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I have a meeting with the wine-press team tomorrow. I’m guessing we’ll start on Thursday morning. We’ll be done by evening, or certainly will have enough free-run juice to test, taste, tweak, and bottle wine overnight. You up for that?”

  “An all-nighter with you? Absolutely.”

  She leaned into him, letting her head fall on his shoulder with a sigh that sounded very much like resignation. “Don’t make me feel things, Alex. It terrifies me.”

  He lifted her chin to bring her mouth close to his. “It doesn’t have to hurt, you know.”

  “But it will…eventually.”

  He kissed her lightly. “Did that hurt?”

  “No.”

  He kissed her again, sliding his hand under her hair. “That?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “Then what are you afraid of?”

  She put her hands on either side of his face, rubbing her fingers over his beard. “I’m af
raid of…what’s best for me.”

  Baffled, he frowned. “What’s—”

  “Alex!” Pru called. “Jack just took Gramma Finnie’s glasses and hid them under the wet bar and Bitsy just knocked over all the menus!”

  They shared a look, a laugh, one more quick kiss, and headed out.

  Chapter Ten

  Grace woke on press day with a low burn of excitement in her heart and three puppies in her bed. They were deeply attached to her, which was mutual, so she decided to keep them with her during the press, which took place in a huge metal-roofed barnlike building adjacent to the vineyards and the wine cellar.

  Tugging them on extra-long leashes she planned to connect to the picnic table, she spied her two workers standing in the sunshine when she arrived. Ryan Perkins, a young man who’d worked in the wineries in Upstate New York before moving to North Carolina with his wife, and Jay Corbell, a fiftysomething man who spoke very little but really knew his stuff.

  They’d been here for last year’s press and were two of the finest wine-pressers she’d ever worked with. Right now, they were laughing with a third man.

  She inched one way, then the other, unable to make out anything but a silhouette against the morning light. A familiar, strong, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped silhouette that looked just as good in a white T-shirt and jeans as he did in a chef’s apron.

  Against her will, Grace’s stomach did that fluttery flip thing that she’d come to expect at the sight of Alex Santorini. Although she hadn’t seen him since that family meeting in Bitter Bark, they’d talked several times by phone. And he texted her frequently with ideas, pictures, and menu planning.

  She’d also chatted with Cassie quite a few times, but Grace’s focus had been the final days of fermentation, which had demanded her attention as they adjusted yeast levels, oxidation, and prepared for this big day.

  She wasn’t the least bit surprised that Alex had kept his promise to help her make wine. She was a little bothered by her physiological response to him, but hey, Mother Nature was a powerful force, and she was whipping Grace’s hormones into a frenzy this week.

  “Here’s our boss,” Ryan said, raising his paper cup in her direction.

  “Good morning,” she called, scanning the three men, but unable to keep her gaze from landing on Alex. “And welcome to our newest member of the press team.”

  “I come bearing gifts.” He gestured toward a large plastic tray he’d set on a worktable, overflowing with pastries and cookies, plus a metal coffee container with a spout.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Bougatsa, milopita, paximadia, and a loaf of vasilopita.” He pronounced the words with a thick Greek accent that sounded as if he’d been raised on the streets of Athens instead of in Chestnut Creek, North Carolina.

  “I have no idea what he’s saying.” Ryan held up a napkin-wrapped pastry. “But holy crap, this is good. So’s the coffee.”

  “Yeah. He can stay,” Jay added, taking a bite of his own pastry as he and Ryan headed over to the press. “And bring lunch,” he called over his shoulder.

  Alex laughed easily at that, coming closer to Grace to put a hand on her shoulder and usher her to the table. “Come and eat. Big day today. You’ll need nourishment.”

  She eyed him, a little amused by his ability to fit into any situation and a little envious of it, too. “I’ll take some coffee.”

  “Really?” He lifted up a layered pastry dusted with powdered sugar. “My bougatsa has actually won awards.”

  The sweet custard and buttery phyllo dough made her mouth water. “Okay,” she said without bothering to fight the temptation. “And coffee. And…thank you for being here today. I know it’s never easy to leave work.”

  He handed her the pastry and poured a cup of coffee. “My grill in Bitter Bark is in good hands, and I’m yours for the duration of the next week and a half.”

  Her heart tripped with gratitude, and she felt a smile form. “I like that,” she said.

  “Taste,” he whispered, leaning closer and inching the pastry toward her mouth. “You’ll like this even more.”

  She took a bite, the dough flaking and crunching, the creamy custard covering her tongue with tangy, gooey goodness. All she could do was close her eyes and moan. “Oh my…” She didn’t bother to finish, enjoying the bite and finally swallowing. When she opened her eyes, he was looking right at her with an expression of smug satisfaction mixed with longing and lust. There it was, right in his eyes.

  “You missed a little bit.” He dabbed her lip with his finger, pulling it back to reveal a flake of pastry. Still holding her gaze, he slipped the crumb into his mouth. “Mmm. Good.”

  She let out a breath and reached for the coffee, wishing it were ice-cold water. “Keep that up, and it’s going to be a long day, Alex.”

  He just chuckled. “From what these guys have been telling me, it is going to be a long day no matter what.”

  “And night,” she said. “If we bottle the press wine.”

  He beamed at her. “That’s my girl. And since I suspected you’ll see things my way and bottle that wine tonight, I brought lunch, dinner, and a midnight snack.”

  “Why am I not the least bit surprised?” After finishing the pastry, wiping her hands, and taking a healthy drink of coffee, Grace took a deep breath and walked toward her team. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s start the press.”

  Grace had been through the motions of a wine press many, many times, deeply familiar with every step. As a teaching assistant while getting her master’s, she’d guided undergraduates through the process, explaining to the newbies the difference between a “crush” and a “press” and how to balance tannins, remove proteins, and add something as simple as clay so that unwanted particles adhere to it and flush out.

  But today was different. From the moment Ryan and Jay opened the containers of fermented must and let her scoop out a cup of the thick, sugary, alcoholic pulp, today’s press had a magical feel. The sun poured through the open doors, dappling the equipment in golden rays, giving the puppies a perfect place to rest and occasionally romp, secured by their leashes to the table and within sight.

  Jay, Ryan, Alex, and Grace all donned smocks and grabbed buckets to gather the must and pour it into the bladder press. Someday, Overlook Glen might be big enough to have this step automated by a twenty-thousand-dollar stainless-steel machine like they had at wineries like Mondavi or Carlson Woods, but Grace wasn’t there yet.

  For now, as a small winery, this press worked perfectly, even though it would take the entire day to get through all the fermented must. The work was hard and heavy, but exhilarating. After the bin was full for the first time, the liquid started running before any pressure was even applied.

  Taking a break, Alex and Grace slipped off their protective smocks and stood side by side, holding their breath as the thick spout gurgled and choked and finally spit out the first drops of pinkish juice into the container.

  “This is the free run,” she explained. “We keep it isolated because we’ll use it later to adjust the taste of the press-run wine. It’s good, though. Want to taste?”

  “Of course.”

  She grabbed two plastic cups and handed him one, showing him how to position it under the spout at an angle to get some of the juice. They filled the cups halfway and held them up.

  “I’m nervous,” she admitted.

  “Why?”

  “This is the first taste, the one that will tell us if we had a great harvest or a good one. It’ll be harsher because of the tannins and skins, but we’ll know if it’s thin or rich, acidic or stringent.”

  “Can you change all that with the press run?”

  “Some, yes. But the bones of the wine are in this cup right here.”

  “Ready?” He lifted his glass.

  “I guess so.” She angled the see-through cup and looked closely.

  “Can you tell by looking?” he asked.

  “I can see the color is nice, the visco
sity looks good, but the only thing that matters is how it tastes.”

  He tapped her glass with his. “Here’s to your best harvest yet.”

  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that vintners thought it was bad luck to toast the free run. Instead, she held his gaze, put the rim to her lips, and tipped the glass as he did the same thing, aware that her heart was hammering at her ribs.

  The first sip was warm, rich, layered, and…delicious. She closed her eyes to be sure, holding the wine in her mouth to let it reach every taste bud, finally swallowing. As she did, something else hit her lips.

  Alex’s kiss was light, sweet, and unexpected.

  “Wow,” he whispered. “That’s wonderful.”

  So was his mouth on hers. She let the contact linger for one second, then inched back. “It’s good,” she agreed. “Not too thin. This is going to be a great blending juice.”

  He took another drink. This time, he closed his eyes. “Fennel-scented duck breast,” he whispered. “With peppercorns and thyme.”

  She smiled. “You’re planning the menu after the first taste of free-run juice?”

  “Of course. This is gonna be great wine, Gracie.”

  She lifted her glass and sniffed, unable to disagree or even be bothered by the nickname. For some reason, Gracie sounded as right on his lips as this wine. “I think it is,” she agreed, turning to the machine to watch the free run pour.

  The next batch was just as good, and so was the third and fourth. By the time they stopped for lunch—which Alex had indeed brought in a cooler—the four of them were a little giddy on the prospects of this year’s harvest. Their hands were all purple, their clothes stained, and Grace was sure her braid was falling out down her back, but she didn’t care. The morning’s work had her high with happiness.

  After eating the delicious sandwiches, Ryan and Jay took off for a much-needed break, and Alex and Grace grabbed the leashes to take the puppies back to the house for their lunch.

  “We can go through the cellars,” she said, guiding him to the underground corridor that connected the press building to the main house. “I don’t like to walk them through the vineyards anyway, since grapes can be poisonous to dogs.”