by Tawna Fenske
“Right,” Reese said, regrouping. “I hardly think one date that involved picking my cousin up at the police station is grounds for requesting a six-figure loan.”
Axl shrugged. “Maybe if Larissa showed him a little leg—”
“Enough with the sexy talk about Larissa!” The second the words were out of her mouth, Reese regretted them.
Everyone was looking at her oddly, so Reese took a shaky breath and tried again. “I’m sorry, ’Riss. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, you’re right.” Larissa squeezed her hand. “Now’s not the time to joke about it.”
“I just don’t know what the hell to do,” Reese said, letting her head fall into her hands. “We can’t get a loan, our construction project is screwed, our wine club hates us, the media is starting to figure out we’re hacks, and our winery barn has a giant fucking hole in it.”
“Maybe it’s a sign, hon,” Sheila said, touching her arm. “Maybe you’ve taken on too much.”
Reese shook her head, but couldn’t think of a snappy retort. She was just too damn tired. Sheila patted her hand and took a sip of wine. “Let’s talk about something else. I want to hear about the boyfriend! Eric said you were seeing someone, Reese, but I didn’t know it was serious.”
“It’s not serious,” Reese said. “I’ve seen him exactly two times. The first time he stuck a thermometer up Leon’s ass, and the second he took me to the police station to get my drunk cousin.”
Larissa grinned. “Romantic.”
“So you’re bonding,” Sheila said brightly.
Axl looked up from his wine. “Bondage?”
Reese sighed and stuck her nose in her Pinot glass. “I don’t know where things are headed. It’s complicated. And it’s early. Let’s talk about wine instead.”
Sheila rolled her eyes. “Why would we talk about anything else?”
Reese shrugged. “You’re in a winery. You married the winemaker. Our topics for conversation are a bit limited. Does Eric think we can save most of the stuff that was in the barn when the fire started?”
Larissa nodded. “The Sauvignon Blanc wasn’t as bad as he thought but still not worth putting our label on. We can maybe wholesale it.”
“For less money,” Reese muttered.
“Not as bad as it could’ve been,” Larissa pointed out. “We got lucky.”
Axl grinned at Reese, but she cut him off before he could make a crack about getting lucky. “That reminds me, Axl, I saw your girlfriend at the First Friday Art Walk last night. Francie? She seems to be under the impression that you’re in the hospital.”
“Aw, fuck. What’d you tell her?”
“That my grandpa is a skanky man-whore. Not something every granddaughter gets the chance to say.”
“Beats sitting around a nursing home playing pinochle,” Larissa said. “Who’s the other woman?”
Axl grinned, unperturbed by the insult or the prospect of having to make excuses with his girlfriend. “A stripper I met at Stars the other night. She gave me a free lap dance and I told her about my Harley.”
Reese took another sip of wine. “That’s a sweet story, Axl. Remind me to save it for the grandkids.”
“Mmmph,” Axl said. He sipped his own wine for a moment, eyeing Reese over the rim of the glass. “You’re really shook up about this loan thing, aren’t you?”
Reese looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve put everything we’ve got into this construction project,” she said. “If we can’t get the money, it’s not just a matter of losing ground on the construction. It’s not even about our reputation with the wine club and the rest of the public. Do you know how many special events we’ve got on the books for the pavilion?”
Larissa bit her lip. “Now’s probably not the time to tell you we had another wedding party cancel this morning.”
Reese closed her eyes, but all she saw were dollar signs swimming over the backs of her eyelids. “It’s like we’re taking handfuls of hundred dollar bills and flushing them down the toilet. We can’t host any of the things we’ve booked if we don’t have the pavilion done.”
Axl nodded. He started to lift his wineglass, then stopped. “Let me see if I can come up with a plan, Peanut Butter Cup.”
“Axl,” Reese said, shaking her head. “I don’t want anything illegal tied to the vineyard. Really, we can just—”
“It’s not illegal!” Axl insisted. “Not much, anyway.”
“Illegal?” Sheila asked. “What are we talking about here?”
“Long story,” Reese said. “Suffice it to say, Axl is either growing perfectly legal medical marijuana or perfectly illegal street-worthy weed.”
“Recreational pot is legal in Oregon!” Axl insisted.
“Not in quantities large enough to bail like hay,” Reese retorted.
“Where?” Sheila asked, mystified. “Not here?”
Reese sighed. “Out in the pole barn. Axl says it’s all on the up-and-up. The jury’s still out on that. I just don’t want things to get out of hand.”
“Because things never get out of hand in this family,” Larissa added.
Reese rolled her eyes and looked at Sheila. “We’re trying to keep it kind of quiet.”
“Mum’s the word,” Sheila said. “My aunt had cancer a few years ago. She was living in Idaho, so of course medical marijuana isn’t legal there. She ended up having to get my teenage nephew to hook her up when the pain got really bad.”
“See, Reese?” Larissa said. “It’s a charitable thing. Axl is just acting out of the kindness of his heart.”
Reese glanced over at Axl, who had taken out a switchblade and was using it to trim his fingernails. He sliced off one nail, which went flying and landed in Sheila’s wineglass.
Reese shook her head and reached for the bottle. “That’s Axl,” she said. “A regular Pope Francis.”
Clay was at the carwash cleaning vineyard mud off the floor mats of his truck when he found the shoe under his seat.
He held it up, examining it. An impossibly high stiletto with silver sequins across the toes.
“Larissa,” he muttered.
The old guy parked beside him frowned under the brim of a filthy baseball cap. “You one of those fellas who likes dressing up in lady clothes?”
Clay dropped the shoe on his seat. “No, sir.”
“Because there’s a bunch of us that get together every Friday night over in McMinnville. You look like you’d be about a size twelve, right?”
“Um—”
“Gary’s been looking for someone to trade with.”
“Right,” Clay said, clearing his throat. “Thank you for the invite, but I’m okay. Have a nice evening.”
Clay shoved his floor mats back into place and got into the truck. He sat there for a minute studying the shoe. Larissa must have dropped it last night when he’d driven her home. He had no idea where she lived now, but he knew where Reese lived.
Don’t be an idiot, he told himself. She doesn’t want to see you right now. Especially not with her cousin’s shoe.
But he already had the truck in gear, pointed back toward the vineyard. He second-guessed himself the whole way there, but he didn’t turn around.
Not even when he spotted the blue Subaru in the driveway. He tried to remember if it looked familiar, but there had been so many of them cycling through for wine tastings the last few days. All cars were starting to look the same.
He killed the engine, picked up the shoe, and got out of the truck. Before he could even knock, Reese opened the door.
Her face was flushed, and she studied him with mild alarm.
“Clay,” she said.
He looked at her and lost his breath. She was wearing some sort of thin, sleeveless top and stretchy pants that were either for sleeping or exercising. Her feet were bare, and he was pretty sur
e she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Before he could even kick himself for ogling her, a male voice called out behind her.
“Everything okay, Reese?”
Reese opened her mouth to speak as Dr. Wally approached and rested a hand on her shoulder. He smiled at Clay. “Hey, there. Good to see you again.”
It wasn’t good to see Dr. Wally. Not at all, especially not at Reese’s house, but Clay didn’t say so. Instead, he nodded at them both.
“Good evening.”
Reese bit her lip and glanced at Wally, then back at Clay. The message was clear. Now wasn’t the time to mention what had happened last night.
“What brings you here, Clay?” she asked.
He held up the shoe. “I brought this,” he said lamely.
Dr. Wally gave a good-natured laugh. “I think you’ve got the wrong house. Cinderella lives two blocks that way.”
Reese offered a stiff smile and reached out to take the shoe. “That’s Larissa’s.”
“I know.”
She met his eyes then, and Clay tried to absorb what he saw there. Hurt? Jealousy? Anger? Lust for the guy standing beside her? He honestly couldn’t tell.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but I happened to be passing by and thought ’Riss might need that.”
“It’s okay. Dr. Wally just stopped to check on me. The news did a big broadcast about the fire and he was worried.”
Clay looked at Wally, trying not to notice the guy’s hand on Reese’s shoulder or think about how pleasant it would be to rip it off at the wrist, throw it in the gravel, and back over it with his truck. “What are they saying about the fire?”
“They made it sound pretty bad,” Wally said, giving Reese’s shoulder a squeeze. “They mentioned someone was injured, and I wanted to come out and be sure Reese was okay.”
Clay caught sight of a vase of daisies on the coffee table behind them and felt something twist in his chest.
Wally brought her flowers. You brought her another woman’s shoe.
He cleared his throat to speak but couldn’t think of anything to say. Reese bit her lip again and glanced at Dr. Wally.
“It was actually Clay who got hurt,” she said. “He helped put out the fire before the fire crews got here.”
“That so?” Dr. Wally asked. “Lucky he happened to be here, then.”
Clay looked at him, trying to assess his tone. It seemed bland enough, but something in his eyes suggested suspicion.
“Right,” Clay said. “Well, I should be going.”
“I’ll walk you to your truck,” Reese said.
Clay looked at her. “You’re barefoot. And I’m pretty sure I can find my way ten feet back to the truck.”
She glared at him, stuffed her feet into a pair of rubber boots beside the door, and turned to Dr. Wally. “Will you excuse me for just a moment? Family business.”
Without waiting for a response, she shut the door behind her and stepped out into the drizzle. Clay looked at her bare arms. “You need a coat.”
He didn’t wait for her to argue. He pulled off his coat and settled it around her shoulders.
She rolled her eyes. “Now you need a coat.”
“I have long sleeves. You don’t.”
She pressed her lips together, ready to disagree. Then stopped. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I suppose you already heard how things went with the bank.”
Clay shook his head. “I left before you got back. We’ve run out of prep work we can do without knowing how you want to proceed with construction.”
Reese gave a thin little laugh and hugged her arms around herself. “How I want to proceed is not the same thing as how we’re going to be able to proceed. The bank turned us down.”
The words stung like salt in a paper cut. “Reese—I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too. Not what I needed to hear today, on top of everything else.”
“Everything else,” Clay repeated. “I’m sorry about that, too.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
“I mean it.”
She shook her head. “I know. It’s just—I just can’t do this, Clay. Not again. Not after so many years of disappointment and hurt and complications with you and—”
She looked down at her rubber boots, not meeting his eyes. Her hair was getting wet and Clay wanted to reach up and brush the damp strands from her eyes. He wanted to crush her against his chest and just hold her. He wanted to throw her in his truck and drive away someplace he could make love to her over and over until they both dropped from fatigue. He wanted to storm inside and tell the goddamn veterinarian to stay away from her—that she was his.
But she wasn’t.
And he didn’t do any of those things.
He lifted a hand to touch her, then stopped. “Reese, about last night. About what happened today—”
“Don’t,” she said, looking up at him. “Just don’t.”
“But—”
“I have to get back inside.”
Her eyelashes glittered with tears as she blinked them away, and he didn’t know what to do. He took a step toward her. She took a step back.
Clay stopped moving and nodded. “Okay.”
“Goodbye, Clay.” Reese grasped the doorknob.
The words twisted in his chest like a corkscrew.
“Goodbye,” he said, and turned away from her.
Reese walked back inside her house, not bothering to take off the rain-slick boots.
“Everything okay?”
Reese looked up to see Dr. Wally standing in her living room. She’d forgotten he was there.
“Fine,” she said, licking her lips. “Everything’s fine.”
“I see you’ve turned to thievery.”
“What?”
“You stole Clay’s jacket.”
Reese looked down. “Oh.”
She started to turn, thinking maybe she could chase him down the driveway and give back the coat, but his taillights had already faded down the gravel drive.
And she knew the jacket wasn’t the reason she wanted to chase him down. She dropped onto the edge of the couch, glum with that thought.
Wally sat down beside her, his knee brushing hers. “Sorry about stopping by so unexpectedly. I just wanted to see you and make sure you’re okay. I got worried when you didn’t answer your phone, and then I heard about the fire.”
She gave him a halfhearted smile. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”
He reached out to adjust a stem in the vase, then dropped his hand to one of the picture frames adorning the coffee table.
“Who’s this?”
“My grandfather, Axl. This was thirty years ago.”
“No kidding? Is that his Harley?”
“Yeah. And that’s a barrel of our Reserve Pinot in the sidecar.”
He set the photo back down and picked up another. “This must be your parents?”
Reese took the photo from him and polished a spot off the corner with the hem of her shirt. “That’s their tenth anniversary party. I was nine.”
“They look so young.”
“They were.” Reese stared at the picture, annoyed by the stupid stab of jealousy poking her right below the breastbone. She should be proud of her parents. She was proud of her parents. Just because she wasn’t capable of having that kind of relationship with someone didn’t mean other people shouldn’t get to enjoy it.
She cleared her throat. “They met in first grade, started going steady in middle school. They got married right after high school, put each other through college, have been living happily ever after since.”
Wally gave her a funny look. “That’s a bad thing?”
“No, why?”
Wally shrugged. “You sounded a little tense. Thought maybe I’d struck a nerve.”
Reese set the photo back down on the coffee table. Her eyes settled on another photo of her parents, this one taken at the edge of the vineyard just a couple years ago. They were smiling into each other’s faces, oblivious to the camera, the vineyard fanning out behind them like a postcard view.
Leon hovered ominously beside her father.
“I love my parents,” Reese said finally. “My mom is my best friend in the whole world, and my dad is the ultimate great guy. They’re both amazing people.”
Wally nodded. “I’m waiting for the but.”
She tucked her bare feet up under her and looked at Wally. “My parents are great. Their marriage is pretty much perfect.”
“Then that’s a good sign.”
“For them or for me?”
“Both. For you, it means you’ve seen firsthand what makes a relationship work.”
Reese snorted. “I’ll be honest, Wally,” she said. “I couldn’t be more clueless about what it takes to make a relationship work than if I’d been raised by a pack of badgers.”
“I don’t know about that. You seem very loving. I’ve seen you take care of all the animals around here. Especially Leon.”
“Leon’s different. He’s sweet and devoted and uncomplicated and appreciative and doesn’t accidentally sleep with my cousin.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Reese bit her lip. “Thanks again for taking care of him the other day.”
There was a long silence. Reese wondered if he was working up the courage to kiss her. She tried to decide how she felt about that.
At last, Wally cleared his throat. “How long have you been in love with him?”
She looked up. “Leon?”
He smiled. “You know who I mean.”
“I don’t think—”
“It’s not about thinking, Reese. Love never is.”
“Why is everyone I know talking like a goddamn Hallmark card lately?”
He touched her knee. “Look, I’d love to have a shot with you, Reese. I think I’ve made that clear. But it’s also clear you’re spoken for. Whether you know it or he knows it, it’s obvious.”