She pushed her empty cup of tea away and blew out a long, shaky breath. She hadn’t meant to, but tears were streaking her cheeks before she could stop them.
‘Oh dear,’ Amy said. ‘A raw nerve. I’m sorry.’
Ellie waved away her apology while trying to stop the tears, but they just came harder and faster until she was full-blown crying.
‘Shit, Ellie. What’s the matter? What would upset you like this? Did Sam do something?’
Ellie shook her head quickly. ‘No. No. It’s not Sam.’
Amy patted her chest and sighed with relief. She reached across the bench for a tissue and handed one to Ellie. ‘What’s the matter then?’
Ellie wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. She allowed her shoulders to sag. ‘It’s me. I’m utterly hopeless at relationships. I’m always attracted to arseholes for some reason I can’t even begin to understand. I can’t get hurt again, Amy. I can’t bear the pain.’
‘I can see how Sam might be raising red flags.’
‘So many red flags,’ Ellie agreed. ‘Yet my body doesn’t seem to notice.’
Amy took a deep breath. ‘I know. Been there. Done that. The charms of the Mathews brothers are hard to resist.’
‘Nice to know I’m not the only one,’ Ellie said with a wry giggle.
Amy moved her cup along the bench, keeping her focus on her hand. ‘But I will tell you one thing I know for sure—Sam isn’t an arsehole. I truly don’t believe he would intentionally hurt anyone. He knows what it feels like, you see.’
This intrigued Ellie. She narrowed her eyes, leaned closer across the bench, elbows resting on the countertop. ‘What happened to him?’
Amy shook her head. ‘Not really my story to tell.’
Ellie sat back. ‘No. No, of course not.’
So Sam had a story. And Ellie had her own story. Hopefully, the two would never meet.
Amy pushed her teacup along the bench back in the other direction, her attention focusing on her finger. ‘I might just add one more thing, and then I won’t say another word.’
Ellie managed a watery smile, knowing she didn’t have a choice. Whatever Amy wanted to say was going to be said regardless of what Ellie thought. ‘Go ahead.’
‘You’re going to have to take a risk again sometime.’
For a long moment, Ellie didn’t say anything because she could understand Amy’s thinking. ‘I know.’ But it wasn’t that simple, not for Ellie anyway. ‘But when I do, I’m going to be certain the man is worth it.’
That’s what her year of travel was all about—getting to know herself outside of a relationship. She’d not had many moments since she was a teenager where she was single. Just one bad romance after another.
After the end of her last relationship, Ellie realised something must be askew with her, because why else would she keep being drawn to the worst kind of men?
She had heard and read about women wanting bad boys and always thought it was an exaggeration, but, in her case, it was absolutely true.
In the midst of her last heartbreak, which also happened to be the absolute worst she had ever experienced, Ellie reached a point where she truly hated and was ashamed of the person she had become.
Something had broken inside her. And she knew she owed it to herself to try and fix it. So, there and then, she made a vow that she would heal first, understand herself more as an individual, and discover what she truly deserved before she handed her heart over again.
That was eleven months and two days ago. And though Ellie no longer detested herself, there was still shame there.
Could she look Amy in the eye right now and admit that she, like Sam, was also not perfect? That she, like Sam, also had done things she wasn’t proud of? Things she knew would make Sam and Amy think less of her?
No, she couldn’t admit to that just yet. Ellie would keep her secrets.
Chapter 10
Early Monday morning, Sam started on foot towards the head office of the vineyard’s main supplier. It was on top of their biggest wine retail shop in the city centre of Melbourne. He walked from his nearby hotel, weaving in and out of people, crossing densely trafficked roads.
The wind that howled through the laneways was freezing, straight off the bay, and he pulled his jacket tighter around him. A faint stench hung in the air—a little like rotting prawns, Sam always thought.
The pavers under his feet were dirty from all the foot traffic. People ignored him as they passed. This would never happen in Alpine Ridge. The townsfolk said hello to everyone, or at least nodded or winked or clicked their tongue.
He arrived outside the store a little before nine. He had been here before many times, but today he was meeting the new sales executive. He texted the number he was given letting them know he had arrived.
Within a few moments, a beautiful blonde was unlocking the grates and opening the glass doors.
Her eyes trailed, not at all inconspicuously, from his head down to his feet, back up again, then met his gaze.
‘I’m Julia. Julia Dempsey,’ she said holding out her hand.
He took her hand and shook it firmly. ‘Sam Mathews.’
‘Come on through. Would you like a coffee before we start?’
‘Please,’ he said not missing the obvious swing of her hips as she clacked along the polished cement in ridiculously high heeled boots. As a country boy, that was one fashion statement he couldn’t quite understand, nor was it seen often in Alpine Ridge.
They passed long lanes of wine bottles stacked on metal shelves and headed up the staircase to the upper level, which was a plush carpeted hall with a series of rooms extending from either side.
‘I’m sorry, but it’s just going to be the two of us for a while. John’s wife is sick, and he’s had to do the school run. Then there was an accident along Batman Avenue, so he’s running late.’
John was one of the representatives who had visited the vineyard a couple of weeks ago and helped create the red blends to be sold by In the Spirit franchises. ‘That’s no problem.’
The first room on the left was the kitchen. Julia made them a latte, then they went to the meeting room, which was down the far end. The roaring traffic and honking and clatter from outside permeated the walls. There was never silence in the city, not like on the vineyard.
Julia gestured for him to sit. He didn’t miss her finger quickly flutter at the top button of her blouse, unbuttoning it. The hint of a white lace bra showed, not that he intended to look, merely noted the movement and the result, then looked away.
Was this Julia’s sales strategy? It was almost laughable.
But the meeting was professional enough. She ran through intended sales figures, then how they were opening three new stores in Victoria, two in New South Wales and another one in Queensland, which would amplify the projected results even further during the coming financial year.
Their father had left the brothers with a great business that generated decent profits, enough for them to have a comfortable life, but with this new business deal, the vineyard was about to hit a new level.
Since the inception of Mathews Family Vineyard, vintages had been stored in perfect conditions within the storage cave. For three decades, this wine, bottled specifically to age, had been fermenting, time adding texture to the taste.
Now, this line of limited edition vintages was about to be released to the market through a campaign with In the Spirit. It warmed his heart knowing that their father had left them this legacy.
Sam and his brothers had already met with their accountant, Simon, to discuss the break-even costs of running this line. At a glance, the sales projections were looking brilliant, but he’d get Simon to double-check all the figures.
They’d certainly been overzealous in their estimations in the past, and they never took anything for granted anymore.
‘I think this is a wonderful avenue for the Mathews Family Vineyard, Sam. With the 1976 Reserve receiving a ninety-seven on the one-hundred-point scale, i
t will be showcased and priced accordingly, adding to our notoriety as quality wine merchants, and you and your brothers, quality viticulturists.’
‘I agree,’ he said. He couldn’t count on both fingers and feet the number of meetings like this he’d endured. This was his major role at the vineyard. One he enjoyed. He liked the travel, the alone time in between meetings, talking figures. It broke up the monotony he sometimes felt at home.
He loved Alpine Ridge and didn’t necessarily like the city, but it was nice to get away from time to time. ‘Of course, I’ll run through these figures with our accountant and get back to you. I know we’ve both already invested a lot of time into this, so I’ll try to have an answer as soon as possible.’
Julia smiled, flashing her perfectly straight white teeth and flicked her hair behind her shoulder. ‘Of course. You take your time, Sam. We want to get this right.’
A buzz from Julia’s mobile sounded. Her eyes flickered to the screen. ‘That’s John. I’ll just go downstairs and let him in.’
‘Sure,’ he said.
When Julia left the room, he took some photos of the document with the projected figures and messaged them through to Mitch and Tom, then to his accountant. A message chimed back with an attached video from Mitch.
Sam opened the link. Sophie appeared on the screen, sitting on the floor, smiling at the camera. Mitch was saying, ‘What’s your uncle’s name?’
Sophie smiled a dribbly smile but said nothing.
‘What’s your uncle’s name, Soph?’
Sophie looked directly into the camera and said as clear as a bell, ‘Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam.’
Sam let out a proud laugh.
‘Sam, Sam, Sam,’ Sophie said again.
Mitch’s smiling face appeared in the video. ‘Thought you might like that.’ Then the video cut out.
Love and admiration buzzed through his body. What a clever little girl. She continually blew his mind with how quickly she was advancing. But to hear her say his name was brilliant. His smile was unrelenting.
He loved that kid so damn much it scared him sometimes. He often wondered if this was how it felt with his niece, how must Mitch feel with this gorgeous little girl being of his own direct blood?
He never knew the pleasure a child could bring to a family, and when he thought of Sophie, he got this achy sensation—desire to have his own child.
Sam quickly typed back a message to Mitch.
SAM: Clever girl! I always knew she’d say her favourite uncle’s name first. Can’t wait to hear her in person. Keep practising.
MITCH: No worries, mate. I’m heading over to see Simon about these figures now. Can you have them email a copy of this spreadsheet through?
SAM: Will ask now.
Footsteps came back down the hall. John was there, flustered from his rushed commute in.
That was another good thing about the country, Sam never had to worry about this ridiculous traffic situation.
They shook hands and went over the same details again. Sam asked them to forward the document through to Mitch.
John headed off to do that, leaving Julia and Sam alone. Her button was still undone. Her cheeks were flushed with pink. Pupils dilated. She was beautiful, sure, any warm-blooded male would think so.
But all Sam could think as he looked at Julia was that she was no Ellie. Ellie was striking. Unique. Had a cute, arty look that he loved. And she was tall (he hadn’t realised he liked tall women) with hips and big breasts, and strong thighs that he’d love wrapped around his waist.
Sam cleared his throat. Julia had just asked something, but he hadn’t heard it, too lost in his thoughts. ‘I’m sorry. I missed that.’
Julia leaned over in her chair, exposing a lot of cleavage. ‘What are you doing now, Sam? You heading back to the vineyard today or waiting until tomorrow?’
He heard the real question loud and clear. ‘I’m heading back as soon as I check out of the hotel.’
‘You sure I can’t change your mind? I’d love to meet up for a drink later.’
Sam inhaled. He was a single man. And that was an invitation for sex if he’d ever heard it, which he had, many times from other women in various circumstances. And many times, he’d acted on it.
‘Thanks for the offer, Julia, but I really need to head back as soon as possible.’
Sam said goodbye to John and Julia and walked back to the hotel. After he checked out and was in his car on the open road heading towards the vineyard, he started to laugh.
What the hell did I just do ? He ran a hand down his face. Had he really just turned down a perfectly sound invitation for sex?
Man, I’ve got it bad . All he could see, and all he wanted, was Ellie.
I’m sweet on a woman who doesn’t want me back. What the hell am I going to do?
Sam saw the damage to the glasshouse as he was heading up the driveway to his house.
‘You’ve got to be joking,’ he grunted, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. He accelerated up the backyard and screeched to a halt. Before he had climbed out of the car, he’d dialled Mitch’s number and pressed his phone to his ear.
He sprinted to the glasshouse. Glass and soil crunched under his feet as he drew closer. Two of the windows were smashed completely, including the door. Inside was trashed. All the pots had been turned up on end, and the flowers strewn across the ground, then trampled on.
His hand went to his head as he rushed his next breath. Couldn’t be Tamara. Not after all these years.
‘You’re home?’ Mitch asked, finally answering his phone.
‘Yeah, mate. You need to come up to the house. Someone has trashed my glasshouse.’
‘What do you mean trashed?’
‘I mean, there’s nothing salvageable in here.’
‘Fuck!’ Mitch hissed. ‘I’ll be right there.’
Sam phoned Roger at the police station next to report the incident. The first question Roger asked was if Sam had any affiliation with the new florist shop on Main Street.
Sam’s stomach sank.
The florist had been vandalised this morning too. A brick tossed through the window. Paint was thrown over the place. All the merchandise destroyed.
Poor Ellie .
Just as Sam was ending the call, Mitch marched around the back. He shook his head when he saw the mess. Shattered terracotta pots. Leaves ripped and thrown around. Flower stems everywhere. Soil from front to back. Big pots tipped on their side. Paint was splashed over his workbench. All the little flowers he’d potted the other night thrown against the walls, now mangled in a heap on the ground.
‘What the hell?’ Mitch asked. ‘Who do you think did this?’
Sam winced, then sighed. ‘I was just talking to Roger. Ellie’s shop was vandalised too. I’m wondering if it might have been Tiffany. Do you think? Christ, I don’t know.’
Mitch’s face screwed up. ‘Ellie’s shop too? Tiffany? The redhead from the bar? You reckon? What a bloody mess.’
‘I’m not sure. She’s all I can think of.’ But it wasn’t all he could think of. Tamara’s name was pushing through his brain like splintered glass.
‘Not Tamara?’ Mitch asked, the volume and drawn out syllables indicating caution.
It couldn’t be. It had been too long since he’d even heard from her. But she was never predictable. Sam shook his head. ‘I don’t think this was her.’
‘You’re right. Too many years have passed.’ Mitch groaned. ‘It could be anyone, Sam. You bring that many women back here.’
‘Ease up,’ Sam said. ‘You don’t have to exaggerate.’
‘Well, maybe I do. You need to sort your shit out because stuff like this isn’t allowed to happen. I’ve got Sophie to worry about barely a two-minute drive away. I don’t want disgruntled ex-flings of yours coming onto the property, putting Sophie's safety at risk.’
‘For fuck’s sake. Now you’re really going overboard. We don’t even know it was an ex … it could be … I don’t fucking know!’
Mitch’s gaze hardened. Two deep furrows of irritation formed between his eyebrows. ‘This is a warning, Sam, from me to you. Sort yourself out! I’ve watched on for long enough.’ He kicked a broken pot sending a few pieces clanging along the ground. ‘I won’t have my daughter in danger because of you.’
‘Way to victim blame.’
‘You were a victim. Yes, Tamara took advantage of a vulnerable boy. But you’re a man now. Start acting like one. And stop blaming every woman for what Tamara did to you.’
Sam’s jaw squeezed tightly shut, blocking the angry retaliation in his throat from finding an outlet. Was that truly what Mitch thought Sam did?
Did Sam do that?
‘Organise a gate to be built at the front of the property that we can lock at night. Along with a security camera. And it comes out of your pocket,’ Mitch continued. ‘I’ll ask around to see if anyone saw anything.’
Mitch marched away, back to his car, leaving Sam vibrating with anger and that stupid, stupid sensation that had been rearing its head so often recently: regret.
His attention focused inwards, at all the relationships he’d had since Tamara if that’s what you’d call a string of one-night stands and week-long affairs. He’d been kind to every woman he’d been with, of course he was.
But after a few fun dates, he’d stop calling them, stop seeing them, start blowing them off. Was that the punishment Mitch was talking about?
By dictating every aspect of the relationship from start to the very short finish, was he sending a silent message to Tamara that he was never going to let another woman get under his skin, and certainly not control him in any way?
A deep darkness shifted within—he felt it like a black, solid mass of storm clouds in his gut. Just enough of the storm had parted for him to see snippets of who he truly was. He flinched back, disgusted with what he was seeing.
Sam saw himself then from Ellie’s viewpoint. Why would he ever expect her to be attracted to a man who treated women like they were disposable?
If Tiffany had come here and done this to his greenhouse, then so be it. Sam deserved everything she dished out … and more.
The Sweetest Secret Page 9