Glancing across the competition space, I spotted James, his dark hair framing his two-week-old stubble as he smiled at a group of women, who, instead of working their own wine booths, looked all too willing to leave and take him to bed if he asked. Not that I cared what James did in his bed or with whom, but damn that facial hair. It would be the death of me. I’d spent one too many nights dreaming of the way it would feel as he dived between my thighs or as he kissed me, brushing across my cheek. That man sure knew how to keep his beard in check—always perfectly trimmed, fading just right toward the top where it met his hairline. It annoyed me as much as it turned me on, which was saying a lot since he was the most annoying human in existence.

“You’ve got a little drool right there.” Jeanine nudged me with her arm, pointing at the corner of her mouth, and I snarled.

“I’m just wondering why he keeps coming to these things when he knows he’s going to lose. Do you think he comes to meet women?” I reached for a case of our wine and started pulling out the bottles one at a time, so Jeanine could uncork them and fill the waiting glasses.

She laughed so hard at my question that she choked. “Like he needs to come here to meet women. Besides, the only woman he wants is you. Why do you think he’s never stayed in a long-term relationship before? Probably for the same reason all yours have failed.”

My eyes felt like they bugged straight out of my head and rolled onto the floor under the table. “What are you even talking about right now?” I looked at my best friend like she had grown two heads. “My relationships don’t fail,” I said a little too defensively. “I mean, it’s not my fault that every guy I’ve dated seems to be more interested in my winery than they are in me.”

“You don’t even give them a chance. They’re out of the running before they even start the race. One wrong word, and you cut them off. Deem them unworthy. And we both know it’s because you want the one guy you can’t have. You’re just too stubborn or scared to admit it.”

My mouth snapped shut in response, wanting to argue, to fight back, but unsure of what the hell to say in response to that. So, I maneuvered the subject away from me and back to him. “James has never had a serious relationship? What do you call Maria? And when he dated that one girl from Seattle last year?”