The Boy Next Door - Sierra Hill Page 0,1

a viticulturist for his recently purchased vineyard.

And yes, that new owner would be Jordan. And I am that winemaker.

The irony of this whole scenario is that I’ve been chomping at the bit for the past five years, since graduating from USC with my chemistry degree, returning to the Sonoma Valley wine country where I was raised. I could have gone anywhere and done anything in the field of science, but at the time, I came home to take care of my mother, who had cancer. And a job in the wine business was the only thing available.

Since then, I’ve been working as the low woman on the food chain, spending almost every weekend as the tasting room manager at the local Ellington Estates Winery, hoping that one day the owner, Brad Ellington Sr., would see my potential and worth and promote me to his assistant winemaker.

No such luck. He’s been grooming his idiot son, Billy, for that role, leaving me at the front of the shop instead of behind the curtain where all the wine making magic happens.

Which means that Jordan’s opportunity in his new winery would fit nicely in my career goals. If only it wasn’t a job where I had to work with him.

Briar returns to my table, about to present me with the check, when a deep, raspy voice abruptly stops her. Our heads whip to the side to see a tall figure at the table who grabs the black leather receipt holder from her hands.

“I’ve got this. Thanks,” Jordan interjects matter-of-factly. “Just keep the tab open for now.”

Briar’s eyes grow wide as she stares up in surprise at the six-foot-three hometown hero and now-retired pro-baseball pitcher standing in her presence.

I roll my eyes at the star-struck behavior. Not that I blame her for being starry-eyed in his presence because Jordan does possess those very appealing attributes that many women swoon over.

He’s tall and lean yet with a muscular build. Broad shoulders that lead into tan, cut biceps that bulge under the cotton of his T-shirt. And he smells good, too. Like a crisp fall night with the scent of cedar in the air.

If he were any other guy, I’d probably go weak in the knees, too.

With Jordan’s dreamy blue eyes, the color of a bright summer sky, and his wavy, Tuscan sun kissed blond hair, which at the moment is a tad too long at the nape of his neck, he looks like the classic All-American Boy. A cross between a surfer, model, and athlete.

But the problem is that he isn’t just any other guy. He’s Jordan Rhoades. And he has the propensity over my lifetime to find ways of getting me madder than a wet hen. Today being no exception since he’s close to thirty minutes tardy.

“You’re late,” I growl, giving him a snarl of attitude, Briar taking a visible step back to avoid my ire. “I was just about to leave and forget your ass.”

His smirk is smug and confident because he knows the truth. I wouldn’t have. I’ve always waited for him.

Shrugging, he pulls out the chair and takes a seat across the table from me. “And yet, here you are.”

Briar hands him the wine list. “Would you like to order some wine, Mr. Rhoades?”

I snicker at the formality. The only time I’ve ever heard anyone call him that is our teachers back in high school when he was being the class clown and disrupting their classroom.

He glances up at Briar and smiles his million-dollar practiced grin. “A house red is fine. Thank you.”

“Cheapskate,” I grumble under my breath, gritting my teeth so hard I think they might break. Jordan just laughs and hands back the menu as Briar walks away to place his order.

“I just bought a fucking vineyard. I need to save all my pennies where I can.”

I harrumph. “Right, because you’re not a frigging millionaire. Whatever.”

I lean over the table, elbow pressed to the wood, and point an accusatory finger at him.

“Listen here, Mister. Just because we know each other doesn’t mean you can get away with hiring me on the cheap. I’m the best there is, and I’m worth every cent.”

He assesses me with a mischievous gleam in his eye, the sunlight from the windows catching it so they sparkle brightly.

“Lia, I’ve always known you were the best. At everything. I wouldn’t dare discount your worth.”

His comment catches me off guard and has me sniffing at the air as if I smell bullshit.

Not only does he revert back to