Free Intercepted by Love: Part Six: A Football Romance (The Quarterback's Heart Book 6) by Rachelle Ayala

some time with us.”
    “Of course I do. But it’s also to check out the condition of the buildings and speak to the owners. Mr. Silver has a business proposal. It’s all confidential, but I want to be in on it and since I’m from around here, no one will be suspicious if I ask a lot of questions.”
    Her mother’s eyes narrowed and she cupped her hand to whisper, “I don’t like that Mr. Silver. At your party, I walked by when he and your friends were talking and they all clammed up.”
    “I’m thinking of a business proposal that Dad can be a part of, too.”
    “No wonder you wanted to take the tour,” her mother said, looking at her pregnant condition. “You sure you’re not having contractions?”
    “None whatsoever.” Andie opened the door to the tasting room for her father who was waiting on the ramp. “Let me buy the tour tickets so we can get a look around.”
    A silent message passed between her parents.
    “What?” Andie looked between them. “I want to learn more about winemaking, that’s all.”
    A young man greeted them at the counter. “I’m Ambrose McCallister the third. Welcome to the Tall Duck Winery. It’s been in our family since the 1850s when my great, great, great, oh, I forgot how many greats, grandfather bought one hundred and fifty acres.”
    “Only the third?” James quipped. “What was your great, great, many times, grandfather’s name?”
    “Argyle, used that name for three generations,” Ambrose said. “But I’m not going to continue that tradition. Who’s this little guy?”
    “Bret, my grandson,” Andie’s father said with more than a little bit of pride.
    Ambrose bent over little Bret and tickled his tummy. Bret laughed and squealed out loud, and the look on Andie’s father’s face was pure joy.
    “So, what are you folks interested in today?” Ambrose said, standing to his full height. The man was rugged, in that backwoods kind of manner, but clean cut, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and well-aged blue jeans. “The tour includes tasting, but I can substitute some of our apple cider or sparkling grape juice.”
    He grinned at Andie as he scanned her ring finger.
    Oops. She wasn’t wearing her engagement ring because her finger was swollen due to being almost nine months pregnant.
    “I’m interested in your operations and of course, the historical aspect of your buildings,” Andie replied.
    “Yes, we’re history buffs,” her father cut in. “Although I specialize in the ancient Near East, particularly the culture of pre-bronze age Greece, Minoa, Cyprus, and the Philistines in Israel.”
    “Cool. As you know, wine was well loved even back then,” Ambrose said. “Okay, let’s start with the vines. You folks are in luck because the buds are breaking this week. We hope there won’t be any late snowstorms, because the sap is rising with the warmer temperatures and the vines will be damaged.”
    “How was your harvest last year?” Andie pulled out a notebook.
    “Unfortunately, a late storm and consecutive nights of frost wiped out our entire vintage.” Ambrose’s mouth turned down. “It’s one of the perils of growing grapes in the Finger Lakes region. My father had to mortgage our family home, the old Victorian farmhouse that’s on the historical registry.”
    “Let’s hope this year brings plenty of sunshine,” Andie’s mother said, elbowing her.
    Okay, so her parents were protective over the family-owned businesses in the area, but couldn’t it be said that an infusion of cash would be welcome?
    The group wandered from the tasting room to the fields. Rows and rows of pruned vines spread from their trellises where little buds, like the fuzzy new antlers on a young deer, poked through the tough, wizened stems. The scent of fresh grass and damp earth held the promise of spring in the air.
    Ambrose lovingly stroked the woody branch of the nearest vine. “No matter how many years I’ve seen this, bud break always fills me with awe. It’s