St. Helena Vineyard Series_Sweet Satisfaction Read online

  She was grateful to not have put in an appearance in the kitchens of the Napa Grand Hotel the day after the non-date, helping Karen with trays of veggies. Penny had put Miguel, her senior grower, on deliveries. She wanted to give him a chance to talk to the clients, see if they were getting what they needed. He would find out if there were other vegetables that PnK needed to add into their mix—talk shop. Meanwhile, Tori could focus on how to save her job and not have a panic attack over having to see Les again.

  The obvious idea, to Tori at least, was to host a booth at the local farmer’s market. At all of them, actually. PnK had never done direct to consumer sales. Their produce wasn’t typically “pretty enough” for the mass consumer. Maybe that could be a selling point? True beauty was on the inside, which was one of the mottos Tori tried to live by.

  Then again, that could be why Les hadn’t shown up. Maybe he didn’t date in her size range. That had certainly happened to her more than once. Some guys were nice about it, others not so much. Well, screw him and his preconceptions. She didn’t need to meet his beauty standards to be beautiful.

  She needed inspiration and motivation, some of those mottos she had pinned and regularly posted for herself. She was cute, she was funny, she made an effort to be fashionable. But there was always going to be a Josh Stevens in her world to remind her that her size did not conform to their brainwashed expectations.

  Beauty standards. That would be her angle! Wasn’t there a campaign in Europe by some grocery store for ugly fruits? A few false starts on an Internet search, and Tori found it. Inglorious Fruits and Vegetables, a direct result of the 2014 European Union initiative against food waste. Moreover, reduced food waste fit right in with sustainability and direct to table. This would definitely appeal to Penny.

  Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, she had to think this through. She pushed her laptop aside, flipped open a notebook, and found a stack of sticky notes. What did she need to do to make this happen? She started making lists. Research, applications, time tables, displays, equipment. She created a sticky for each title.

  She flipped the page in her notebook and stuck a note at the top of the page, one for each category. She rearranged her notes several times before her master list was ready. Tori pulled the laptop back and woke it up. Were her Google-fu skills up to the challenge?

  Tori located all the local farmer’s markets in the valley. There were plenty. She even found some in areas a little farther out, and in the next valley over. She created a spreadsheet with name of the market, locations, days and dates they were open, contact information, booth fees, and how many visitors on average. There were enough markets that PnK could have a booth every day of the week if they wanted. She made sure to bookmark all the links for the applications.

  A question dawned on her as she began her next search for a display. How much produce would they need? And what kind of profit margin would make this beneficial to Penny? She pulled the notebook over and jotted down more notes. Maybe she could find answers for those later.

  Displays and equipment were next on her list. They would need a tent, they would need bins and bags, and scales, and…

  There was a lot to be done before she even thought about putting together a presentation for Penny.

  Tori leaned back in the chair and squeezed her head together. This felt like one of those semester long school assignments, where her entire grade hung in the balance. Well maybe…

  Tori grabbed her phone and quickly texted both Erin and Ali. Margaritas tonight? I’m going to be in need of tequila.

  ***

  Tequila surged up Tori’s nose. She was mad at the man, so of course he would go and do something like this. It was not fair, not fair at all.

  She coughed and sputtered as Les strode into the bar at Carnita Joe’s.

  Erin patted her on the back. “Are you okay?”

  Tori nodded. She was glad he hadn’t witnessed that, but ow. She wanted to ogle, but damn, if frozen margarita up the nose didn’t hurt. Her eyes watered as she buried her face in a napkin.

  Yet she did not want to take her eyes from him.

  He looked like some kind of rockstar. She never realized how tall Les was until she saw him towering over his friends. Was that Miguel? Well, crap, it was. She never really thought of Miguel as anything other than the guy at work who knew everything about anything they grew, but clearly he had a life outside of work. He didn’t look like a rocker, though. He didn’t even look like he belonged in the same band, in his baggy jeans and long grey dress shirt with only the top three buttons done. Les… Les wore a—

  “Oh em gee, Les is wearing a kilt. Did you see that?” Erin asked.

  Tori pointed to her face and nodded. “That’s why I snorted margarita out my nose.”

  “Someone should tell him he looks ridiculous,” Erin continued.

  Someone should tell him I no longer seem to have panties on. Poof, they’re gone. Tori agreed he looked ridiculous, ridiculously gorgeous. His black hair was slicked back, wet based on the tell-tale damp patches on his shirt. His eyes could have been rimmed with eyeliner, but Tori was pretty certain that was just because his eyelashes were insanely thick and long. No, Les’s appearance tonight hadn’t choked her up because she was laughing at him. His look tonight made her brain cease functioning.

  Could she even go over and talk to him? She wasn’t dressed to impress, still in her work clothes, though she had taken off the chambray over-shirt with the Peaz'n'Karrit's logo. Her jeans that may be a skosh too tight and silly T-shirt with laser cats and unicorns was an outfit for working on a computer, not for hanging out at a bar. She should have changed. How could she, in jeans and a tee, approach Les, who was dressed to the nines in a black kilt and a light blue vintage tux shirt with black piping along the collar and front ruffles? Damn, in ruffles and baby blue, he looked so damned fine she could hardly stand it.

  Right, she was mad at him, that was how she could go over and talk to him.

  Les leaned against the bar as Miguel was distracted by some tourist. Now was her chance.

  “I’ll be right back,” she announced as she slid from her chair. “If Maria comes back, get me a Coke. I think I’m done with margaritas for the night.” She might be done with them forever if they were going to attack her like that again.

  Tori stalked across the bar and stopped in front of Les, arms folded. “I thought you were gonna meet me the other night?” she asked without any preamble.

  “Hola Tori.” Les righted himself. She noticed his accent when he spoke Spanish. Things in her body quivered but stopped as he gave her an up and down body scan.

  She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “You did not just do that.”

  Les quirked a half grin at her. Damn, this was hard.

  “Why not? You’re checking me out.”

  “I was checking your outfit out. You just happen to be in it.” She could feel her face flush. “Wearing a kilt is a bold choice. I don’t think it’s something I expected of you.” She stopped herself from reaching forward to catch the edge of one of the pockets near the side of his hip. “It’s a good one, too, one of those utility ones.”

  Les smirked. “Aren’t you going to ask what I have on under it?”

  Tori shook her head. Nothing. You have nothing under it because you are the kind of guy who has the balls to wear a kilt to begin with, so you’re going to be the kind of guy who wears it traditionally. Besides, you’re in a kilt in a bar. Probably going for the easy access. She let her eyes trail down Les’s front and stopped when she got to his boots. She lifted her gaze to peer up at him through her lashes. They weren’t nearly as long as his, even with lash plumping mascara. “Boots. You’re wearing boots underneath.”

  Les laughed. He reached forward and clapped Tori on the shoulder.

  Damn, a shoulder pat. That meant she was out of the running for gaining access, no matter how easy.

  “Man, I’m sorry about the burgers. I totally forgot. Hang out and have a be
er with me and mi primo. You know Miguel, right?”

  Tori’s gut clenched. He had just brushed off their date completely. Well, that was better than reactions she had gotten in the past. Fine, if that’s how he wanted to deal with it.

  “Hey, Miguel, I didn’t realize you two were related. I can’t stay. I’m with my friends”—Tori pointed with her thumb over her shoulder—“but maybe next time. Or you guys can come over to our table.”

  Les nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Tori turned and crashed into Maria carrying a refill basket of chips. Chips spilled everywhere and crunched into her back.

  “I am so sorry. Are you all right?” Tori asked as she bent to pick up the baskets.

  “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m so sorry, all my fault,” Maria said.

  “Maria, watch where you’re going,” Les chastised the waitress and continued saying something in Spanish.

  Maria responded with a torrent of rapid Spanish. Tori may not have understood the words, but that attitude could not be missed. Maria was not going to take any of Les’s guff tonight.

  Les replied with a hardy laugh, and something else Tori didn’t understand.

  Tori wished, not for the first time, that she had learned a second language. She suppressed a shiver. Les’s accent was doing things she didn’t need right now.

  Maria rolled her eyes, and gave Tori a big grin. She tilted her head back at Les and called him “Idiota.”

  “It was a mutual crash.” Tori handed Maria the baskets and flicked chip crumbs from her shirt.

  “You have some on your back too.” Les spun her around and began wiping off her back. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You know, Tori, you should wear jeans more often. Your butt looks good in these.” His hand lightly slapped across her lower back, or was that really more top of butt?

  Tori closed her eyes and prayed she wasn’t blushing too hard, Les was touching her butt.

  Chapter 5

  Tori watched Penny expectantly. Which was to say, yes, Penny was hugely pregnant, so every pause she took was pregnant, but she was taking her time lingering over Tori’s presentation. Tori had a notebook full of reference material and costs, if Penny would only ask questions.

  Tori had taken a field trip to check out the farmer’s market in Calistoga, an excursion well worth her time. The sellers were set up to take credit cards, and even EBT cards. That meant farm to table food was available for all. This key selling point was featured prominently in her presentation.

  Tori titled her presentation, “Beauty is only skin deep, but nutrition is all the way through.” She needed to shorten it for a booth slogan, but it got the point across. PnK wouldn’t have to sort through their produce for commercial beauty standards because they would sell what they had in all its glorious weirdness.

  Penny leaned back and rubbed her baby bump. She hummed a bit before sitting upright. She clicked the keyboard, backing the presentation up.

  “How soon could all of this happen?” she finally asked.

  “I have us on the waiting list for Calistoga. We can basically walk into the markets in Napa and Yountville.” Tori pulled the already filled-out applications from a file folder. “Just need your signature.”

  “And St. Helena?”

  “We have to be reviewed by a committee. It’s only open seasonally. They want pictures of our booth,” Tori answered.

  “We don’t have a booth,” Penny countered.

  “Sure, we do.” Tori leaned over the computer and clicked to the slide in the presentation featuring an image of a market booth with crates and signs It wasn’t pretty, but that was the point. “We can put up a banner or a bunch of chalkboard signs with ‘give ugly food a chance’ or ‘you don’t eat veggies cause they look good’ and stuff like that. This is all from what we currently have, and we have plenty of these delivery trays. Putting them to use at a farmer’s market wouldn’t impact operations at all. Besides, if we get started in the other places first, we can have pictures of a live booth in action for future applications.”

  Penny leaned back in her chair. “How soon can we do it?”

  Tori’s insides bubbled up with excitement. She flipped open her note book.

  “We need someone to man the booth and take care of sales. I figure we can rotate this through a few different people. We should get you out there as much as you can handle. It will probably be a long day, so you’ll need back-up. And you’ll need someone to do the heavy lifting. But in the beginning your presence is a boon for us. Even if all you are doing is standing around looking pretty.”

  “You mean pregnant.”

  Tori chuckled. “I mean, like the person who owns and runs Peaz’n’Karrit’s Farm. Get a face with the name. So back to your timetable. _People power we already have, a booth we already have, veggies we already have. What we don’t have is a delivery van for the market day or an idea of how long the waiting process is for us to be accepted. But I do have an idea for the van. I went ahead and applied to participate in the Golden State Fresh program, so that we can be participating in that EBT card program as soon as possible.”

  “This might be a feasible idea, Tori. I need to think about it.” Penny played with the application forms in front of her.

  Tori pulled out another document from her file folder. She slid it in front of Penny. “Here is a cost break down. I compared the prices of things at the farmer’s market and the grocery store versus what you currently sell to restaurants. This isn’t a suggestion to replace restaurant sales in any way, shape or form, but it’s a decent side hustle. Numbers aren’t my thing, but you said I had to make a positive impact on your bottom line to keep my job. I like working for you. I like working for PnK. I like the mission and the message you are trying to achieve here.”

  “I appreciate this, Tori. You really ran with this challenge. How could you leverage this with your online social marketing goals for PnK?”

  Penny had to ask a tough one, but Tori was prepared. “Hashtags and silly signs for selfies. We need an artist. I bet one of our growers has hidden talent and would love the opportunity to paint some signs.” She leaned over the keyboard and navigated to a Pinterest board. “I was thinking something like this.”

  Tori rotated the laptop to face Penny again. This time it displayed happy customers posing with their shiny purchases in front of a sign that said “I got stoned at the Gem Fair.” The set up was clear, even to Penny, a self-proclaimed social media idiot. The customers were sharing the gem dealer’s information on their social media platforms. That sign and the humor in it was going viral—a small, community sized viral, but viral. It wasn’t just the dealer making the posts, but everyone else sharing it out. Leverage.

  Penny grinned and nodded. Sold. “I’ll get back to you.”Which meant that Penny would get back to her with a check and signed applications.

  ***

  Before tonight Tori would have said she had never met a cheesecake she didn’t like. Carnita Joe’s stepped up to the challenge. She stared at the slice of cheesecake in front of her. Her days were beginning to become boringly redundant. Work and then margaritas, or work and then home because Ali and Erin wanted to hit the Spigot.

  She wasn’t sure which was worse, here where she got to see Les hanging on hot female tourists or home where she would be alone? At least the margaritas were better here. The mariachi music in the air taunted her. She should be enjoying herself, but this cake had other plans.

  She had taken one bite and couldn’t decide if she wanted to attempt another one. Could it really be as bad as the first taste indicated? Her gaze drifted from the dessert to Ali’s oversized purse slouched on the end of the table next to a plate of decimated nachos. Even if she did come back to finish them, they would be nasty cold.

  Tori picked her phone up to check in with Sam. Her thumbs typed up a quick message, filling her friend in on how life this week was going. It was boring, it was all work.

  Tori poked the fork into the creamy white cake. She had
ordered it as a way to pass the time while she felt confined to the booth. Erin had started a new job, so it was just her and Ali tonight, and Ali had taken off, saying she would be right back. That was over thirty minutes ago. Tori was stuck watching her friend’s purse while her friend was off doing whatever.

  She needed to come back and pay for her nacho, and her margaritas. Tori fumed. She wanted a decent slice of cheesecake, and she wanted to hang out with her friend, not her friend’s purse.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” Les slid into the booth across from her. He shoved Ali’s bag and plate farther down the table.

  Tori forgot everything she had just been fuming about. Her face broke into a grin all on its own. Okay, maybe this wasn’t going to be such a crappy night out, after all. She didn’t say anything as he reached forward and picked up her fork off the plate and took a bite of her dessert. Les was sitting in the booth with her. Everything in her body went stupid happy.

  “Uh, this is crap.” He made a face and scanned the table for a napkin. “How can you eat that? I thought you liked cheesecake?”

  She suppressed a giggled. “That’s not cheesecake. It’s frozen cardboard. I don’t know what it is, and I wasn’t eating it, I was staring at it.”

  Les turned his attention back to the restaurant at large, making a nodding motion when he spotted whatever he was looking for.

  Maria approached the table. “S’up?” She nodded at Les.

  Les rambled a stream of Spanish at Maria and pushed the cheesecake toward her.

  Tori really needed to learn the language. She was picking up more and more at work and had learned enough to know Les call the cake crap.

  He handed the waitress an unwrapped setting with a flourish. Maria slid her gaze to Tori. “Why haven’t you said anything if it’s as bad as he says?”

  Maria pulled the fork from the napkin bundle and carefully took a piece of cake. She spit the offending piece out into the napkin and followed it with a torrent of Spanish epithets.

  Tori could not suppress her giggle, especially since Les was roaring with laughter.