Rainy Day Friends Read online

  Her grandma toasted her.

  “Mia and I work here at the winery,” Alyssa said and gently patted the cloth-wrapped little bundle swaddled to her chest. “This is Elsa, my youngest.”

  “Elsa, like the princess?” Lanie asked.

  “More like the queen,” Alyssa said with a smile, rubbing her infant’s tush. “She’s going to rule this roost someday.”

  “Who are you kidding?” Mia asked. “Mom’s going to hold the reins until she’s three hundred years old. That’s how long witches live, you know.”

  Lanie wasn’t sure how to react. After all, that witch was now her boss.

  “You’re scaring her off again,” Alyssa said and looked at Lanie. “We love Mom madly, I promise. Mia’s just bitchy because she got dumped last night, was late for work this morning, and got read the riot act. She thinks life sucks.”

  “Yeah, well, life does suck,” Mia said. “It sucks donkey balls. And this whole waking-up-every-morning thing is getting a bit excessive. But Alyssa’s right. Don’t listen to me. Sarcasm. It’s how I hug.”

  Alyssa reached across the table and squeezed her sister’s hand in her own, her eyes soft. “Are you going to tell me what happened? I thought you liked this one.”

  Mia shrugged. “I was texting him and he was only responding occasionally with ‘K.’ I mean, I have no idea what ‘K’ even means. Am I to assume he intended to type ‘OK,’ but was stabbed and couldn’t expend the energy to type an extra whole letter?”

  Alyssa sucked her lips into her mouth in a clear attempt not to laugh. “Tell me you didn’t ask him that and then get broken up with by text.”

  “Well, dear know-it-all sister, that’s exactly what happened. And now I’ve got a new motto: Don’t waste your good boob years on a guy that doesn’t deserve them. Oh, and sidenote: no man does. Men suck.”

  Lanie let out a completely inadvertent snort of agreement and both women looked over at her.

  “Well, they do,” she said. “Suck.”

  “See, I knew I was going to like you.” Mia reached for a bottle of red and gestured with it in Lanie’s direction.

  She shook her head. “Water’s good, thanks.”

  Mia nodded. “I like water too. It solves a lot of problems. Wanna lose weight? Drink water. Tired of your man? Drown him.” She paused and cocked her head in thought. “In hindsight, I should’ve gone that route . . .”

  A man came out onto the patio, searched the tables, and focused in on Alyssa. He came up behind her, cupped her face, and tilted it up for his kiss. And he wasn’t shy about it either, smiling intimately into her eyes first. Running his hands down her arms to cup them around the baby, he pulled back an inch. “How are my girls?” he murmured.

  “Jeez, careful or she’ll suffocate,” Mia said.

  “Hmm.” The man kissed Alyssa again, longer this time before finally lifting his head. “What a way to go.” He turned to Lanie and smiled. “Welcome. I’m Owen Booker, the winemaker.”

  Alyssa, looking a little dazed, licked her lips. “And husband,” she added to his résumé. “He’s my husband.” She beamed. “I somehow managed to land the best winemaker in the country.”

  Owen laughed softly and borrowed her fork to take a bite of her pasta. “I’ll see you at the afternoon meeting,” he said, then he bent and brushed a kiss on Elsa’s little head and walked off.

  Alyssa watched him go. Specifically watched his ass, letting out a theatrical sigh.

  “Good God, give it a rest,” Mia griped. “And you’re drooling. Get yourself together, woman. Yesterday you wanted to kill him, remember?”

  “Well, he is still a man,” Alyssa said. “If I didn’t want to kill him at least once a day, he’s not doing his job right.”

  “Please, God, tell me you’re almost done with the baby hormonal mood swings,” Mia said.

  “Hey, I’m hardly having any baby-hormone-related mood swings anymore.”

  Mia snorted and looked at Lanie. “FYI, whenever we’re in a situation where I happen to be the voice of reason, it’s probably an apocalypse sort of thing and you should save yourself.”

  “Whatever,” Alyssa said. “He’s hot and he’s mine, all mine.”

  “Yes,” Mia said. “We know. And he’s been yours since the second grade and you get to sleep with him later, so . . .”

  Alyssa laughed. “I know. Isn’t it great? All you need is love.”

  “I’m pretty sure we also need water, food, shelter, vodka, and Netflix.”

  “Well, excuse me for being happy.” Alyssa looked at Lanie. “Are you married, Lanie?”

  “Not anymore.” She took a bite of the most amazing fettuccine Alfredo she’d ever had and decided that maybe calories on Mondays didn’t count.

  “Was he an asshole?” Mia asked, her eyes curious but warmly so.

  “Actually, he’s dead.”

  Alyssa gasped. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked—”

  “No,” Lanie said, kicking herself for spilling the beans like that. “It’s okay. It’s been six months.” Six months, one week, and two days but hey, who was counting? She bypassed her water and reached for the wine after all. When in Rome . . .

  “That’s really not very long,” Alyssa said.

  “I’m really okay.” There was a reason for the quick recovery. Several, actually. They’d dated for six months and he’d been charming and charismatic, and new to love, she’d fallen fast. They’d gotten married and gone five years, the first half great, the second half not so much because she’d discovered they just weren’t right for each other. She’d not been able to put her finger on what had been wrong exactly, but it’d been undeniable that whatever they’d once shared had faded. But after Kyle had passed away, some things had come to light. Such as the fact that he’d hidden an addiction from her.

  A wife addiction.

  It’d gone a long way toward getting her over the hump of the grieving process. So had the fact that several other women had come out of the woodwork claiming to also be married to Kyle. Not that she intended to share that humiliation. Not now or ever.

  You’re my moon and my stars, he’d always told her.

  Yeah. Just one lie in a string of many, as it’d turned out . . .

  Cora came back around and Lanie nearly leapt up in relief. Work! Work was going to save her.

  “I see you’ve met some of my big, nosy, interfering, boisterous, loving family and survived to tell the tale,” Cora said, slipping an arm around Mia and gently squeezing.

  “Yes, and I’m all ready to get to it,” Lanie said.

  “Oh, not yet.” Cora gestured for her to stay seated. “No rush, there’s still fifteen minutes left of lunch.” And then she once again made her way around the tables, chatting with everyone she passed. “Girls,” she called out to the cupcake twins, who were now chasing each other around the other table. “Slow down, please!”

  At Lanie’s table, everyone had gotten deeply involved in a discussion on barrels. She was listening with half an ear to the differences in using American oak versus French oak when a man in a deputy sheriff’s uniform came in unnoticed through the French double doors. He was tall, built, and fully armed. His eyes were covered by dark aviator sunglasses, leaving his expression unreadable. And intimidating as hell.

  He strode directly toward her.

  “Scoot,” he said to the table, and since no one else scooted—in fact, no one else even looked over at him—Lanie scooted.

  “Thanks.” He sat, reaching past her to accept the plate that Mia handed to him without pausing her conversation with Alyssa. The plate was filled up to shockingly towering heights that surely no one human could consume.

  He caught Lanie staring.

  “That’s a lot of food,” she said inanely.

  “Hungry.” He grabbed a fork. “You’re the new hire.”

  “Lanie,” she said and watched in awe as he began to shovel in food like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

  “Mark,” he said afte