There was more to Emma than met the eye.
Gio couldn’t remember a time when he was this intrigued.
His eyes focused on the road ahead instead of how she curled her legs under her in the seat beside him.
How her lower lip quivered on every exhale.
Stop!
He’d only been driving for an hour . . . ish.
Gio considered turning on the radio.
He should have done that before now. Now the noise might wake her.
Shifting in his seat, he chastised his body for twitching.
Where did the red hair come from? Her mother or her father?
Did she have siblings? Were they close?
What about her parents? Were they a part of her life? Were they alive?
He had questions. So many questions.
There were lots of back roads he needed to traverse to get them onto a major highway.
As Italy woke and the roads filled with people going to and from work, his pace slowed.
One would like to think that traffic was exclusive to the highways in the States, but they’d be wrong. If there was one truth in the world, traffic was everywhere. Even in nowhere places with tiny towns.
It was at a roundabout where he needed to stop in order to merge into traffic that Emma started to wake.
A little moan, a stretch, and she sighed. “Are we there yet?”
“Not even close. You’ve been asleep for about an hour. We’re about five miles from the highway.”
She stifled a yawn, covered her open mouth with her hand. “I needed that extra hour of sleep.”
“How is that headache?” Gio finally had room in the roundabout and pushed on.
Emma tilted her head from side to side. “Wow. It’s, ah . . . wow, not there.”
“And your stomach? Any queasy thoughts?”
She took a moment. “None at all. What was in that God-awful concoction?”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. My secret. Besides, if you knew, you’d never drink it again.”
“That’s probably true.” Emma turned in her seat. “Did you bring water?”
He motioned with his thumb to the back seat. “There’s a few bottles in the back.”
She unbuckled her seat belt and reached behind them. “Want one?”
“Yeah. Probably a good idea.”
Emma righted herself in her seat, handed him a water bottle.
“Thanks.”
“I really do appreciate you doing this.”
“You’ve already said that,” he reminded her.
“I know, but it bears repeating. This is your vacation and giving up an entire day for someone you hardly know is very selfless of you.”
“I want to know you better. So maybe I have a hidden agenda.”
She laughed. “Not so hidden if you tell me that.”
Gio drove with his knee while unscrewing the cap on his water. He took a sip. “So, are you going to tell me the real reason you know so much about wine?”
She blinked a few times, then stared out the window. “I guess that’s the least I can do, considering what you’re doing for me.”
He knew there was more to the story.
Gio waited for her to elaborate.
“My last name is Rutledge,” she said as if she were confessing something important.
“Okay . . . is that supposed to—”
“As in my father is Robert Rutledge, otherwise known as the owner of R&R Wineries.”
Oh, snap. Yeah, that was big. “Napa Valley R&R?”
“That’s the one. We have . . . he has vines in Temecula as well.”
That was an interesting correction in how she worded her father’s land.
“You grew up with wine.”
“That I did.”
“What do you do for the company?” he asked.
A short laugh escaped her lips. “That’s a complex answer.”
“We have just under three more hours on the drive to get where we’re going. Probably need to stop for food a couple of times, and four hours back. So, if you want to give me the long answer, we have time.” Besides, the way she was squirming around his question piqued his curiosity about her even more.
She sat taller and put her seat belt back on, which she’d left off after getting the water. “I’m in retail. Primarily for the wine we . . . he produces in Temecula. Although to be fair, I’ve found buyers for all the labels.”
Gio moved over to the fast lane. “That doesn’t sound like a complicated answer.”
“Two weeks ago, it wouldn’t have been.”
“What happened two weeks ago?” he asked.
“I quit.”
Gio let his eyes leave the road. “You what?”
“Quit. Technically I didn’t quit. I said I was taking the six weeks of vacation owed to me to contemplate if I’m going to go back.”
“What prompted that?”
She sighed. “I’ll give you the short version because the long one will piss me off and make me miserable.”
He didn’t want that. Gio waited for her to speak.
“My father is a misogynistic ass who has never taken my role at R&R seriously. He promoted someone into a position that should be mine . . . or at least he should’ve given me a shot at it.” She took a breath. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did it so I’d quit. He knows me well enough to know I would. He’d rather see me married, running a household and hosting book clubs, with another baby on the way, than see me succeed in his winery.”
“That does not sound like you.”
“It isn’t.” She took a swig from her water. “I might have figured out how to best him, though.”
He liked the smile on Emma’s face. “This I want to hear.”
She shifted in her seat. “There’s this house on twenty acres with mature vines that R&R already owns. It’s in Temecula. The house has been vacant for a couple of years, but the vines are still producing. Apparently, according to my mother . . . the house and vines were slated for me.”
“As in a gift?”
“Yeah . . . but there was this thing that happened . . . Anyway, my mother just showed me the property.” She smiled and stopped talking.
“That good?”
“Yeah. The production space hasn’t been used the way it should for several years. The place needs a dumpster or two to get rid of the broken and old equipment. But the vines are solid, the house is beautiful. Swimming pool, all fenced and gated.”
It sounded like Gio’s dream property.
“I told my dad I was willing to go out and start up on my own, something I know he thinks I’ll fail at. My mother is convinced that he’ll hand me over this property.”
“A gift?” Gio asked for a second time.
“My dad is worth a lot of money. But no. I can’t imagine there won’t be strings attached. Besides, I’d rather buy it off him.”
“You have that kind of capital?”
She paused.
“Sorry. That’s none of my business.”
“Emma Rutledge has a trust fund. But even if he took that away, Emma Rutledge has a college degree and a decade of experience. Something my father underestimates.”
Gio could see how that would be a mistake. The woman sitting next to him was as determined as any woman in his family. And that was saying something.