Till Death Do Us Port by Kate Lansing

Author:Kate Lansing [Lansing, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

I yawn as I open the door to Vino Valentine.

The sky was lightening outside when I finally fell asleep, rusty rays of orange and red permeating my eyelids. It felt like mere seconds before my alarm sounded. The one on my phone I could—and did—snooze. The furry ones, however, were relentless in their quest for breakfast. Zin and William prodded at me until I finally tossed my covers aside. It’s a good thing they persisted, though, otherwise I would be running even later than I already was.

Which is why Sloan beat me to opening the shop. Baskets full of palate-cleansing wafers are perched on the counter and tables, a fresh vase of daisies adorns the tasting bar, and the unscented candles are lit. Soft music wafts from the speakers.

I take a large gulp of my vanilla latte from the Laughing Rooster next door, ignoring how it scorches my tongue, willing the caffeine to give me a boost of energy.

Sloan is behind the tasting bar, rocking on the balls of her feet and mumbling to herself as she flips through a hefty stack of fluorescent notecards.

“Studying?”

“Always,” she responds. “I keep forgetting all six of the vines outlawed in France. There’s the Herbemont, Jacquez, Noah, Isabelle, Clinton, and . . .” Her face twists in a pained expression until she lets out an aggrieved sigh and peeks at her notecard. “Othello.”

“Ah, the forbidden grapes.” These American vines have been banned for nearly a century for supposedly producing subpar wines. They’ve recently resurfaced because of their resistance to drought and insects, albeit, in secret. “Maybe the law will finally be changed.”

“If it hasn’t happened since 1934, I doubt it’ll happen anytime soon.”

“Look at you spouting that date like it’s no big deal.” My compliment loses all meaning thanks to the giant yawn accompanying it.

“Late night?” Sloan bounces on the toes of her highlighter-yellow trainers, in contrast with her slate slacks and cream ribbed tank.

“You could say that.” Late night that stretched into a long morning.

My phone pings and I glance at the screen. It’s a text from Reid.

I open my messages to find an accompanying picture. His green eyes are still blurry with sleep and his hair is perfectly disheveled, the light cascading through his hotel room tinging it amber. There’s a smirk on his lips and a mug of coffee in his hand.

His text reads: Morning. The only thing missing in this picture is you. And William.

I grin, snap a selfie with my to-go mug, and type back: Cheers! With William in the other chair, where will I sit?

His response is complete with a wink-kiss emoji: I’m sure we can come up with something . . .

My cheeks flush and I change course before either of us combusts: Tell me more about the new digs.

Reid: Outdoor seating over the water, enough space for a stage. But with all the work it needs, it could be a money pit.

Me: Or it could be perfect. Sometimes you just have to take the plunge and hope for the best.

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