by Claire Raye
I nod. “Ellen?”
“Yes,” she says, walking toward me. “Welcome to Somerville’s. How was your flight?”
I shake the hand she offers me. “Long, drove straight up here too.”
“Wow, okay, let’s get you settled first,” she says. “And then I can show you around, introduce you to everyone.”
She leads me back out of the shed and indicates my car as if to suggest wherever we’re going, I’m driving. I nod, opening the driver’s side door this time, thank fuck, and get in.
Ellen slides into the passenger seat while the smart-mouthed kid jumps in the back, smirking at me in the rearview mirror.
“You’re going to want to head down the back, take a left at the fork,” she says, gesturing to the dirt road behind the shed.
“Yeah I’ve actually been here before,” I say. “As a kid. I remember we stayed in one of the cottages down the back of the property.”
“Is that so,” Ellen says and when I glance over at her, she’s got a strange smile on her face as she stares out the front window.
“So, this is your place now then?” I ask, wondering how it is Lulu’s parents ever decided to sell the place. From what I remember, it had been in their family for years and considering how famous it was in this region, I have no idea why anyone would choose to let it go.
“Here, last one on the left,” she says, gesturing to the smaller of the two cottages.
It’s exactly as I remember it and I’m glad this is where I’ll be staying for the month or so I’m likely to be here. Even though the winery might have changed hands, nothing about the place is different.
“Key’s in the door,” she says, opening the passenger door. “Get yourself settled and then come next door and we’ll go over everything,” she says, smiling at me. “Oscar, let’s go,” she adds, glancing at the kid in the back seat.
The kid gives me a dramatic eyeroll as he gets out of the car before offering me a wave and a “Later,” over his shoulder as he walks into the cottage next door as though he lives there.
Ellen follows him inside, calling out “Only us,” at the door as though it isn’t where she lives. I don’t hear a reply, but figure I’ll meet whoever my new neighbor is soon enough.
Grabbing my bags, I head inside the limestone cottage that I’m now calling home. Inside is exactly as I remember it, the door opening to a front living room that’s dominated by a large stone fireplace. The décor has been updated though and I’m grateful for the corner couch and large flat screen TV.
Heading toward the back, I pass the small, but newly renovated kitchen, the bathroom, my old bedroom and eventually the big bedroom my dad used when he worked here.
Throwing my bags on the large bed, I walk back to the bathroom, stripping off the clothes I’ve spent the last thirty-six hours in before jumping in the shower.
Afterward, I pull on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, leaving my feet bare before heading into the kitchen. The fridge has been filled with food and drinks and I grab a coke, knowing I can’t afford to sleep my jetlag away. Cracking the tab, I take a long sip before heading next door.
I knock on the front door, unsure exactly who lives here and not sure I can just walk in. The kid, who I now know is called Oscar, appears behind the screen door, staring up at me as though he’s never seen me before.
“Come in,” he eventually says, as though I’ve passed some sort of test. “They’re in the kitchen,” he adds before walking back into the living room and resuming his seat on the couch in front of the TV. Beside him is a girl who’s about the same age as him and I watch as he leans over and pulls the remote from her hands and changes channels without asking. She turns and punches him in response and I have to bite my lip to stop the laugh.
Fuck me if this whole scene isn’t straight out of mine and Lulu’s playbook.
Shaking my head, I walk down the hall to what I assume is the kitchen at the back. The house has the same layout as mine, only bigger and decorated with a distinctly feminine touch. Not over the top girlie or whatever, just softer, vases of flowers and shit that suggests a female presence.
When I walk into the kitchen, Ellen is sitting at the large island, a glass of wine in front of her.
“Hi,” she says. “Feeling better?”
I nod. “Definitely, thanks.”
“Can I get you a glass?” she asks, gesturing to the bottle.
I look over, notice the Somerville label and wonder if it still tastes as good as I remember. It’s not that it’s been long since I had a glass of their stuff; it’s sold in Australia. I just don’t know when the place changed hands or whether that’s impacted the quality.
I’m also not sure how alcohol is going to react with my jetlag, but fuck it; it’s five o’clock somewhere.
“Sure,” I say, finishing off my coke and taking a seat. “So, when did you take over this place?” I ask, remembering she never answered my question when I asked her earlier.
Ellen smiles as she grabs another glass and pours me some wine. “About two years ago,” she says, topping up a third glass that’s sitting on the bench. “But I’m only in charge of the admin side of things,” she says. “My sister runs the actual vineyard. That’s who you’ll be working for.”
“Okay,” I say, reaching for the glass she offers me. She’s got a weird look on her face, almost as if she’s laughing at me. “And am I going to meet this sister of yours anytime soon?” I ask.
She nods and almost immediately, the sound of footsteps on the wooden floorboards signals her arrival.
“Speak of the devil,” Ellen says as a set of long tanned legs walks into the kitchen. I feel my eyes tracing a slow path up bare, sun-kissed skin, a pair of cut-off denim shorts hugging curvy hips and a tight black tank covering an impressive chest, long blonde hair hanging over one shoulder
When I reach the face however, and the deep blue eyes that are currently squinting back at me, I can’t stop the grin that breaks out, especially when I catch the what the fuck expression plastered all over my new boss’ face.
“Hey Lulu,” I say as I raise my glass in her direction.
Oh fuck me; this is going to be fun.
Chapter Two
Lauren
The look on his smug tanned face is exactly as I remember it fourteen years ago as he sits there staring at me from the stool at my kitchen island.
What in the literal fuck is he doing here!?
“Ellen, can I speak to you please?” I ask through teeth clenched so tightly that I swear I’m going to chip a tooth. “Alone,” I add, now looking directly at that kangaroo-loving shithead. I always liked to believe he got lost in the bush somewhere trying to find that giant rock they all rave about over there. But I wasn’t that lucky because he’s now sitting in my kitchen.
Ellen follows me to my bedroom and I slam the door behind her, not making it any secret that I’m severely pissed off.
When she told me she had found someone to fix our crusher and destemmer machine, I didn’t question it any further. The damn thing has been on the fritz for the last year and no matter how hard we’ve tried, we have yet to find some who can figure out what the hell is wrong with it.
I’m pretty sure if I had to listen to one more joke from a mechanic about stomping the grapes with my feet, I was going to lose it.
So original. Thanks I Love Lucy.
But those lame ass jokes are looking like a much better solution than having Jack Wilson involved. Honestly, I would even consider stomping grapes with my own feet right about now over my current option.
Who would’ve thought you could carry a deep hatred for someone after all these years?
“This is who you hired?” I demand, my hand flying at the closed door. As I listen voice I feel myself tense at just the sound of his accent. He’s ruined me on foreign guys forever. “He’s calling the kids ‘mates’ right now, Ellen.” I huff indignantly.
This is all her fault.
“Hold up.” Ellen’s
hands are up defensively. “I had no idea this was who they were sending and…”
“Bullshit!” I shout, cutting her off and not caring in the least if Jack hears me. “There’s no way you didn’t know. Why would you do this to me?” I moan, my voice coming out whiny and high, and I realize how immature I sound.
“Seriously, Lauren, I didn’t know. I contacted his father’s old company and they set everything up from there. I literally haven’t been in touch with him until this point.”
I roll my eyes dramatically and begin pacing the room wondering how I can get Jack to take a hike without actually speaking with him, without ever seeing his face again.
And as I obsess over this, I realize I’m going to have to throw out my beautiful Pottery Barn stools that I just bought because he touched them. His stupid ass was sitting on them! Fuck, what else could he be touching right now? I gotta get out of this room before I have to burn my entire house to the ground.
“Geez, Lauren, you’re being incredibly irrational,” Ellen says, as I try to storm past her. She catches my arm and glares at me, her eyebrows knitting together and her lips pursed. “Grow up, and for the love of fuck, remember you’re a professional.”
“I am a professional!” I shout inches from her face and Ellen hauls back like she’s going to smack me and I finch, making her laugh. “But I’m certain he’s not. Did you see the way he’s dressed? Ugh…”
Ellen cocks an eyebrow at me, her hands on her hips, “Listen, Pot, you and the Kettle out there aren’t dressed all that differently.”
“Oh my god, why are you taking his side?” I lament before defending myself. “For your information I was out trying to unclog that damn crusher…”
My words stop me in my tracks and so do my purple stained hands that I quickly shove into the back pockets of my shorts.
“Point. Made,” Ellen quips as she turns to leave the room, but just before she opens the door she turns back to me. “You never told me he was so hot.” She opens her mouth into a perfect O-shape and fans her face.
I slap at her and practically shove her into the door. “He wasn’t,” I hiss as I reach around her for the doorknob, opening the door and forcing her out before me.
“You never told me he was so hot,” I mockingly mutter as we both leave my bedroom. Hot, if you like that tanned, blue-eyed, Australian accent, total dickhead, conceited prick look. Pffft…
“Come on kids,” Ellen says, flagging them off the couch where they were already nestled up against Jack looking at pictures on his phone. He’s so charming even they’ve turned on me.
Jack stands up and advances toward me with a look on his face that says he’s thrilled to be here, and it takes everything in me not to charge at him and slug him in the face.
We didn’t exactly part on the best terms. Hell, we didn’t even start on the best terms. “You look good, Lulu,” he says, smiling as his eyes trail over my body.
My hand whips up, “Don’t even start, and let’s get a few things straight: my name is Lauren. Not Lulu, Lu or anything else, just Lauren. And I am your boss. It might be Ellen who hands you a check, but make no mistake, I am in charge.”
“You got it,” Jack says shrugging his shoulders as he slips past me and back into the kitchen. He takes a seat on the stool that Ellen vacated earlier, picking up his wine, he indicates for me to sit down.
“How’ve you been going, Lu…Lauren?” he corrects, his tone casual like we’re old friends.
“I’m fine,” I reply, my response clipped, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing.
“Your kids are quite cheeky, especially the boy,” Jack says, his eye glancing at door they left through.
“We’re not doing this,” I tell him and he raises his eyebrows, a confused look on his face.
“Not doing what?”
“This,” I motion a hand between us. “The pleasantries, the acting like we’re friends.”
“We are friends,” he deadpans, and it takes everything in me not to burst out laughing.
He clearly forgot all the times I told him I hated him. All the times he made me completely miserable, but the biggest of them all, the day he left when he tackled me and I fell face first into a muddy gully out in the vineyard. That’s the one that stands out in my mind.
“You going to ask me how I’ve been going?”
“No, because you’re here to fix my crusher and that’s where we’re going.”
I leave the kitchen, hearing Jack slide off the stool and push it in, following me into the mudroom where I left my boots. I bend down to pull on my boots and a nearly inaudible gasp leaves Jack’s mouth, but it’s enough to make me sit down and tug on my boots.
He does not need to be looking at my ass as I bend over. This is a professional relationship and the fact that Ellen let him into my house has already crossed that line.
He must take the hint that I have no interest in speaking to him, because he stays silent until we reach the building. But I notice him taking in the grounds, looking around at everything.
“So, here it is,” I say, gesturing with great flourish at the oversized machine in the center of the room. My stained purple hands indicating that this machine and I are in a never-ending battle. “Things start to go wrong when it reaches the point where the crushed grapes need to move through…” My thoughts are halted as Jack walks around me and climbs the small stairs to look into the large metal drum.
He slides his hands into a pair of black rubber gloves that are clipped to railing and begins digging around without waiting for me to finish.
“No, not there,” I mutter, climbing up behind him and squeezing next to him. Jack shifts sideways, making room and I point out the place where things seem to be going wrong, grabbing a handful of barely mashed grapes. “See,” I say, showing him, my hand now dyed an even more bright purple than before.
“Few things,” Jack says, a perplexed look on his face as he takes the grapes from my hands and dumps them into a bucket, hanging up the gloves. “I’d say your first problem is that you’re contaminating your wine by shoving your dirty ungloved hands in there. Second…”
“Oh my god, and to think I thought you were here to help,” I say on an exasperated sigh as I climb down the steps.
Jack grabs my wrist as I make my best attempt to storm out on him, practically yanking me back against him. His hand is warm and calloused, and I have no idea what happens but my heart rate skyrockets, sending an electric shock through my entire body. Every nerve is on fire from just one touch.
His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist and as much I want to pull away, something about it feels strangely right. It’s been way too long since I’ve had sex because right now a part of me is turned on by this asshole’s touch.
I shake my head, clearing the haze that has clouded my better judgment and I pull my wrist away with a quick tug.
I glare at Jack, hoping my expression forces him back to the land of professionals that we are supposed to be in. He wouldn’t do this to a client, why would he think it’s appropriate with me.
“I’m just taking the piss, Lulu.” He winks at me and I’m sure he’d be able to charm the panties off of most women, but I’m not most women or am I? Because for the first time since his arrival, I get a good look at him, and holy shit time has been good to him.
His t-shirt is fitted allowing the outline of his muscled arms and chest to show through, and someone has never made a pair of worn out jeans look so damn good.
I hear him clear his throat, “Um, Lu?”
“Yeah?” I answer not even noticing that he has completely disobeyed my request to call me Lauren. “What?” I drag my eyes away from his amazing body and silently remind myself to dig that vibrator out of my nightstand later.
Jack is smirking, his chest pushed out, his hands in his back pocket. When my eyes meet his, I’m mortified that the expression on my face has totally given away what I’m thinking. I feel my face flush, and I look away quickly.
I can’t find him attractive. I chalk it up to the fact that I’m just lonely.
“You never had the best poker face,” Jack teases, pinching my side as he walks by me. “Anything going on with the crushers over here?” he calls, walking over to the two other machines in the room.
“No, but those ones don’t…”
“Work as quickly,” he says finishing my sentence.
“Yeah.” As much as I hate that he can finish my sentence, he’s obviously the right person for the job.
“I’m gonna go back and change into some work clothes, and then come back to take a look. That okay, boss?” Again that cheeky smile is back, and he’s giving me shit just like he used to.
“Yeah, Jack, it’s fine,” I say, my annoyed tone not masking the fact that I know he’s purposely being a shithead.
I begin to head back to my house and Jack jogs a bit to catch up with me asking, “When did your parents retire?”
“Couple of years ago, but Ellen and I have been working here since we graduated from college.
“You were working here long before that, Lulu. You knew this place like the back of your hand at fifteen.”
“Yeah, but…”
“But nothing. Learn to take a compliment.”
His comment brings a smile to my face and again I feel my cheeks grow hot, but that feeling is short-lived when the front door to my house swings open and Olivia rushes out.
Her big brown eyes are wide as she looks up at me. “Why’s your face so red?” Her hands are on her hips, demanding an answer. “We’re you running? We’re you racing? Who won?”
“Go back in the house, Nosy Rosy.” I squint my eyes at her, my lips pulled into a pucker, and she giggles loudly and runs back into the house calling Oscar’s name.
“Cute kids,” Jack says, and I recall his comment from earlier, and realize I never acknowledged it.
“Yeah, twins, they’re cute, but they’re a bit too honest for their own good.”
“World might be a better place if we were all as honest as kids.” He shrugs his shoulders and begins to look around, taking in the vineyards that surround my house and his rental. The houses are set a ways back, far enough to not be intrusive, but the view is still phenomenal.