“And over here is where we have the Tempranillo planted, three hundred vines in all. If I demolish the parking lot, I may end up planting more there.”
“Cat.”
She glanced away from the vines, now muted and golden in the last light of sunset. Channing was standing a few feet away from her, arms crossed, an amused smile on his lips. “What?”
“I don’t really need the rundown on every vine you’re growing on the property. It’s cute that you have a hobby and all — well, besides the fiber stuff you do — but I’d really love to see the house.”
The word “hobby” made her bristle…almost as much as his off-hand remark about “fiber stuff”…but she did her best to sound calm as she responded, “It’s not just a hobby. These grapes will bring in a lot of cash.”
“Great, but I know you did a lot of renovati
