D is for Drunk by Rebecca Cantrell

on his phone and muttering.
    “Whatcha doin’?” she asked.
    “Research. Watch the road.”
    She ignored him and dedicated herself to his car. It was hard to believe it could be so fun to drive, since she was usually in it with Grandpa Aidan.
    She passed Grigoryan Vineyard and headed over to Befort Vineyard. The grapes were ripe here, too, purple and green balls bright against the leaves. The vines were arranged pretty much the same as the Grigoryan’s were, but the house was completely different.
    The Befort house was huge, but built into the contours of the hill, instead of lopping off the top. Where the Grigoryan’s castle was rounded and ostentatious, everything about the Befort house was square and minimalistic. It probably cost as much.
    “We’re here, Phone Boy,” she said. “Ready to go taste some wine?”
    Aidan shoved his phone in his pocket. “Why’d you give that waitress my phone number?”
    “I thought you two might hit it off. I saw chemistry.”
    “Why did you think that? Exactly.”
    Before she could point out that the waitress seemed nice and had left him her number and sometimes it wasn’t any more complicated than that, a woman called out. “Welcome!”
    Sofia turned toward her. A black dress clung to the woman’s pencil-thin body, and when she walked, her heels clicked against the driveway like castanets. Her lipstick was a red slash and her bangs were cut at an angle. It wasn’t a look most women could pull off, but this one could.
    In her slacks and Oxford shirt, Sofia suddenly felt underdressed.
    “My name is Annabelle Befort.” The elegant woman had a very slight French accent. If Sofia were playing a Frenchwoman, she’d want to copy it.
    But she wasn’t. She remembered their roles—Young Couple Looking for Wine—and took Aidan’s arm. He looked startled.
    “I’m Sofia and this is Aidan. We’re here for a drop-in tasting,” she said to the French woman. “A friend of ours sent us. He has a restaurant in Beverly Hills, and he raves about your wine.”
    “Does he?” Annabelle smiled. “Then you must come to taste it for yourselves.”
    Aidan tried to pull his arm free.
    “We’re a couple,” she said, under her breath. “Remember?”
    “We’re not one of those couples who hang all over each other,” he whispered.
    She didn’t let go of his arm. She’d decided they were going to be a hand-holding couple. The woman would probably assume his sulkiness was because of a fight in the car. Oddly enough, they hadn’t fought in the car. That must be a first. Probably because she was driving.
    “This way,” Annabelle called. “The tasting room is this way!”
    “Is that a stable?” Sofia asked.
    “Would you like to see? I have my beautiful mare in there.” Annabelle changed direction and led them to the stable. “A vineyard is a wonderful place because it holds so many different delights.”
    Aidan walked along next to her, not exactly like a couple, but like a guy who’d given up arguing. That would do.

                                                                                                                                                                     

    CHAPTER 16
    T   he stable was dark and smelled of hay. A horse whickered. It was the only horse in the place. The other three stalls looked as if they’d been empty for a while.
    “Hello, my Percy,” Annabelle called. “We come for you.”
    Percy was a delicate black mare who was clearly well-taken care of. Her immaculate coat gleamed like black glass, her mane was carefully combed, and her hooves looked polished. The horse could have walked off the cover of Black Beauty .
    “She’s gorgeous,” Sofia said.
    “She knows this, and she expects a treat from me, but I have nothing. Shame on me!” Percy nuzzled Annabelle’s open