The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,43

ganged up on.

Ryder shrugs at me. “He said it, not me.”

I roll my eyes, flabbergasted at how easily he manages to charm the pants off of everyone he meets, including men. Even my brother, who’s heard me call Ryder a “condescending crotchbag I’m nominating for the Asshole Boss of the Year Award.”

And I was sober for that one.

“But if I’m being entirely honest,” Ryder continues, looking back at Ross. “I have to admit that her clever intellect can be a bit intimidating. She challenges me every day to hold my own against her. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good thing. But it does tend to incite my competitive side.”

Ross throws his arm around me. “Shit, you’re preaching to the choir, man. This girl hates to lose. I’ll have to tell you about the Monopoly Meltdown of 2014 sometime.”

I groan as Ryder chuckles. “Yes, you will.” He glances down at his phone when it starts ringing again. “I’m sorry, but I have to take this.”

“Don’t forget you have that meeting with Forrester & Sons in fifteen,” I remind him.

He nods. “Right. Printouts?”

“Are on your desk, and I wrote down a few things that need clarification on their end.”

“Got it, thanks.” He shakes my brother’s hand again. “Really nice to meet you, Ross. The three of us will have lunch soon.”

I shake my head, panicking. I do not need these two falling into a bromance. “No, we shouldn’t—”

Ross gives me a hard squeeze. “We’d love to.”

Ryder puts his phone to his ear and rushes off toward his office.

My brother releases a low whistle as we watch him walk away. “After all the crap you’ve told me about him over the past year, it’s finally starting to make sense.”

I warily meet his eyeline. “What are you talking about?”

“I know why you’ve been acting extra weird lately.”

“Excuse you, I’ve been acting my normal level of weird.”

Ross tuts at me in admonishment. “Shame, shame, sis. You’ve got a thing for your boss.”

The laughter that bursts out of me sounds manic. Like a hysterical clown. Bring it down a notch. “Are you kidding? You think I have a thing for the man I once said was ‘a swaggering jackass who needs a vasectomy before he manages to sire a new generation of swaggering jackasses?’”

Ross goes on like he didn’t even hear me. “But since I now know the feeling is mutual, I won’t have to punch his teeth through his skull. I’m guessing you probably like them right where they are.”

I gape. “Have you been stealing from my stash again? You know you can’t smoke that shit in the Coast Guard.”

He rolls his eyes. “That man likes you, Gretch. There’s no way you’re that blind.”

And there’s no way my brother was able to figure all that out in two minutes.

Wild guess.

He slaps me on the shoulder. “Now, come on. You’re buying me a plate of fajita nachos.” As he turns to walk away, I hear him mutter, “Clever intellect, my ass.”

“This tastes like cigarette ash.” I scowl down at the red wine monstrosity in my glass.

Sloane holds her own glass of red up to the light, examining its richer color. “And you called us ‘wussies’ for ordering from the sweet end. How’s that burnt ciggie butt treating you over there, Gretch?”

I frantically look around the winery’s tasting room. “This place has a full bar, right?”

This winery in Mount Pleasant opened earlier this year, but none of us have had the chance to stop in for a tasting before now. Having now had my first sip of their label, I’ve concluded that they’re spending far more money on their interior design than on their wine production.

The building is less than a year old, and the fragrance of new lumber still wafts in the air. The tasting room is decorated in a mountain lodge theme, with lots of cabin-style furniture made out of logs and antlers and pinecone accent pieces. A humongous bearskin rug lays in front of the gargantuan stone fireplace in the center of the room. And because we’re two weeks away from Christmas, the place is decked out, top to bottom, in holiday foliage. Tasteful white lights hang from the ceiling. Lit winter garland is wrapped around each column and framing every arched doorway. Poinsettia centerpieces decorate the table surfaces, and buffalo plaid is everywhere.

It’s actually kind of…romantic.

Good thing I’m here with the three great loves of my life.

Harper takes a sip of her white wine and makes a few notes on her tasting