by Karen Kelley
“Now that would be a damn shame,” I told him.
He laughed, then slapped me on the ass before releasing me. I was still grinning as I went inside the bathroom. I quickly washed, then did a quick survey of my reflection in the mirror. I grabbed my brush and ran it through my hair.
I left the bathroom, and crawled into bed beside him. He pulled me closer. His body radiated heat, but I didn’t mind. It was as if I’d been cold for so long and now I was finally starting to feel warm.
“Tell me about Layne Hayes?” I asked as my head rested against his chest. I liked hearing the steady beat of his heart.
“What do you want to know?”
Usually, I wasn’t curious about other people, but I found that I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know what it was like growing up. He said his parents had opened a coffee shop, and something about his owning a vineyard. And there were brothers.
“Tell me about your family. You come from a big one, right?”
He chuckled. “I think it’s too big sometimes. I have three brothers and a whole slew of cousins.”
“And your parents opened a coffee shop?”
“Actually, a whole string of coffee shops. They turned everything over to me and my brothers, so we’re running them now. We have good managers, though. There’s not a lot that we need to do.”
“Are your brothers older or younger?”
“I’m the youngest,” he said.
“The baby of the family.” I raised up and looked at him.
He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. I sighed. He definitely did not feel like a baby.
“Jaxson is the oldest. He writes books.”
I frowned. “Jaxson Hayes. The Jaxson Hayes?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s just Jaxson to me. I guess his books are pretty popular.”
I jumped up and went into the living room, grabbing the book I’d been reading off the coffee table, then carrying it back to the bedroom and crawling into bed. I scooted to my knees, closer to him, then bounced my finger off the cover. “This Jaxson Hayes is your brother?”
He glanced at the book. “Yeah, that’s him.”
I looked at the book cover. “Pretty popular? This is what you call pretty popular? He’s a New York Times best-selling author, and some of his books have been made into movies.”
“Maybe so. But to me, he’s just my big brother.” He suddenly frowned. “I’d just as soon not have him in bed with us, though.”
I laid the book on the bedside table before scooting back down into bed. What else was there to know about Layne and his family? “Don’t tell me your other brothers are writers as well.”
“No, we all went in different directions. Ryder is the next oldest. He builds offices and houses.”
“Why do I think there’s more to him than just the fact that he builds offices and houses?”
He chuckled. “Okay, he builds big buildings and he has housing developments. The homes are pretty exclusive. All of us have invested in them.”
“And what does your other brother do? Is he running for president or something?”
He smiled. “He’s a guide. You know, backcountry and everything. Whitewater rafting, hiking, that kind of stuff.”
“Does he own his own company?”
“As a matter of fact, he does.”
“And you own a vineyard?”
“Just a few. It’s no big deal, though.”
“Tell me again why you’re working as a paramedic?”
Rather than tell me, he pushed me onto my back and began kissing me, effectively making me think of other things.
It was the wee hours of the morning before we both fell asleep in each other’s arms.
I awoke late the next morning, but thoroughly rested. I sat up in bed, the covers falling around my waist. I stretched as I climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I didn’t see Layne anywhere. I tapped on the bathroom door and when I didn’t get an answer, I went inside. He wasn’t there either.
I took a quick shower, then wrapped a towel around me, tucking the corner between my breasts before going in search of him. He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. I was a little disappointed that he’d left. I guess he’d gotten what he wanted. A night of hot sex. Well, that was fine with me, because I’d gotten the same thing.
If you never expect anything good to happen, then you won’t be disappointed. My mother had imparted that bit of wisdom to me. I think it was the only thing she’d ever been right about.
My door opened. I turned, my heart thudding wildly in my chest. I relaxed as soon as I saw it was Layne.
“I was hoping you would be up by now,” he said as he came inside carrying two cups of coffee.
“If you wanted a cup of coffee, I have my own coffee maker,” I told him, but I walked toward him and took one of the cups, knowing it would be better than mine.
“You’re right, you do have a coffee maker. But I have the ninja of all coffeemakers. I have a turbocharged, top-of-the-line, coffee machine.”
“It’s too early in the morning to be bragging,” I told him haughtily. But I took a drink of the coffee right before I curled up on the sofa. I would definitely miss this. But I didn’t want to think about that. Not right now. I just wanted to enjoy my coffee.
He sat next to me. “It’s not bragging if it’s the truth.”
He had something there. “Okay, I’ll give you that one because it is damn good coffee.”
“I have to go by the vineyards today. Come with me.”
It hadn’t really been a question. I stiffened.
“Not that you have to. I just thought you might enjoy seeing them.”
I relaxed and thought about his offer. I would like to see the vineyards and more of the countryside. “I’d like that,” I told him.
A little voice inside my head said it was a mistake to go with him. Layne would probably end up breaking my heart. I sighed. But how much fun would I have until he did?
Chapter 8
Fiera
I leaned back against the seat in Layne’s pickup. He said money didn’t matter, but it was pretty damned nice having seats that kept your backside cool. Oh yeah, his truck had all the bells and whistles. I had a feeling he wouldn’t have liked the ride nearly as much if we’d taken Old Red, which was what I called my rattletrap pickup. At least it was dependable—most of the time.
“Are you originally from Colorado?” Layne suddenly asked.
I turned from looking out the window. He was prying. I sighed. Hadn’t I done the same thing when I asked about his family? “No. My mother moved us around a lot after Dad went to prison. I was born in San Diego, California.”
“How’d you end up in Colorado?” His wrist casually rested on the steering wheel, his other arm on the door’s armrest.
I turned and looked out the window again. Cedar, Oak, and Mesquite trees dotted the gently rolling hills. The grass was already starting to turn yellow from the heat of the Texas sun, but there was something about this state that made it feel like home. I hadn’t felt like that in a long time. It kind of scared me.
His question had been innocent enough. Just idle conversation. “I answered an ad. I was living in Las Vegas. It was time to move on.”
“No sisters or brothers?”
I shook my head. “None that I know of, but I’ve never ruled out the possibility.”
“It must’ve been difficult for your mother.”
“I don’t think so. After Dad went to prison, Mom decided it was time to party. I don’t know, I guess I couldn’t blame her. She was still young. I don’t think she realized the responsibility she would have as a married woman, then I came along nine months later. I think she resented the relationship I had with my father.” I smiled as memories flashed across my mind. Good memories. “I adored him. Where Mom was cold, Dad was the complete opposite. He made me believe that I was the center of his world.”
“How old were you when he went to prison?”
My fingers dug into the edge of the seat. When I realized what I was doing, I forced myself to relax. “I was ten. ”
“It must’ve been hard for you.”
A bitter laugh escaped from between my lips. “Mom kept reminding me how my father had conned us both, and then left her to raise me.”
“And this will be the first time you’ve gone to the prison?”
It was almost as if I’d inched my way across states, until I finally landed in Texas. “Yes,” I told him. “This is the final chapter between me and my father. I need to turn that last page.” I didn’t add, so that maybe his memory would stop haunting my dreams. I kept seeing him as he used to be, not what my mother kept telling me. It was as if a piece of my life was missing. I knew it was crazy to think this way, but maybe going to the prison would give me some kind of closure. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure I was ready to bury his memory. Other than my last foster family, he was the only good memories I had.
“And your mother? Is she still living?”
I shook my head. “She partied a little too much. She drank a lot, but then that wasn’t enough, so she started using drugs. After a couple of years living the hard life, everything caught up to her.”
“What happened?”
He might as well know everything. “I was twelve. I came home from school.”
I kept my gaze facing the window, but the scenery blurred. That was the day I got an A+ in English. I’d hated English, so I was doubly proud. I remembered thinking maybe I would get a rare smile from my mother. I wasn’t sure why I’d craved them so much, but I did.
“I went into her bedroom. She was lying on the bed. I thought she was asleep. The needle was still in her arm. She probably shot up not long after I went to school.”
Her eyes had been closed, but there was a smile on her face. She never smiled for me, only for the drugs.
“I’m sorry.”
It was as if I suddenly realized I wasn’t the only one in the pickup. “It was a long time ago. My mother had problems, but they weren’t my problems. What she did, she did to herself.” I squared my shoulders. “After that, I was shuffled between foster homes. Some of them liked the extra money they got from the state for taking care of me and gave me my space. They weren’t bad, I guess. I went to live with Ginny and Keith when I was sixteen. He was a mechanic at one of the ambulance services.”
“And that’s where you fell in love with the idea of working on an ambulance.”
I smiled. “I joined an explorer group and knew immediately what I wanted to do with my life. You’re right when you said it’s an adrenaline rush.” My forehead furrowed. “But it’s more than that. For the first time in my life, I felt as if that was where I was supposed to be. It was the one thing I could do, and do well.”
“Paramedics are born, not made. There are just some things that can’t be taught. You need to have a gut instinct,” he said.
“Right,” I agreed. “I’ve seen paramedic’s fresh out of school. They’re cocky at first, but then they go on a few calls and reality sets in. All the bookwork is great, but you have to be able to think for yourself. Sometimes you only have a few seconds to make a life or death decision.”
“It’s a lot of pressure,” he agreed.
We each got lost in our own thoughts until he turned down a farm to market road. It wasn’t long before there was row after row of grapevines. As far as the eye could see.
“Are these yours?”
“Mine and my brothers.”
Now I was impressed, and wondering why he hadn’t turned around and taken me back to my apartment. He knew my father had died in prison and my mother had overdosed, why in the hell did he still want to be with me? As I looked around, I had a feeling I was in way over my head with this guy. I didn’t smell grapes, but I did smell money, and lots of it.
Maybe I was just a distraction for him. A new toy to play with.
Before my anger could rise to the surface, I realized I was voicing my own thoughts. He was the distraction so I wouldn’t have to think about going to the prison and visiting my father’s grave. He was definitely a fun toy to play with. So what harm was there? We’d both play until we got tired, then we’d tell each other good bye, and that would be the end of it.
He pulled to a stop in front of a large building. There was a ranch-style house nearby. The grounds were immaculate. A man came out of the house toward the pickup as we were getting out. He was short and bow-legged, with a head of gray hair.
“Herbert, how are you?” Layne asked.
“Right as rain, young fella. Who’s the pretty girl you brought with you?”
I smiled, liking his warm friendliness. “I’m Fiera. I just started working for the same ambulance service as Layne.” He stuck out his hand and I took it. His grip was firm.
“Nice to meet you, Fiera,” he said.
We went inside a large barn. Herbert and Layne began to point out the fine art of what went into making a good bottle of wine.
“This is a crusher. Ours is electric, but I can remember a time when we turned the wheel by hand,” Herbert told me, then continued. “Black-skinned grapes make the red wines. If we want a sweeter wine, we add a little sugar. Then it ferments, that’s so we don’t have grape juice instead of wine before it goes to the presser. After that, it goes into a barrel so it can age. From the barrel, the wine goes into the bottle and ages some more.”
“You make it sound easy, but I have a feeling there’s more work to it than that,” I said.
He grinned. “Maybe a little more, but I have a lot of help.”
I glanced around. There were at least ten other people running machines and moving about. Some of them glanced up and smiled at me.
Layne spoke with some of the workers. I could immediately tell they liked working for him and Herbert.
We went up to the house, and I was introduced to Alice, Herbert’s wife. She wore a red-checked apron over a light yellow housedress. She was the epitome of what a grandmother would look like. While Layne and Herbert went over business stuff, Alice took me to her kitchen, which was as inviting as she was. A blue and white checkered cloth, edged with embroidered strawberries, covered a small breakfast table. Two hand towels, with red birds on them and the edges crocheted, hung from the stove. When I inhaled, it was almost like inhaling what Heaven would smell like.
“It’s so nice to meet one of Layne’s friends,” she said, eyes twinkling. “He’s such a nice young man.” She motioned for me to sit at the table.
“He does seem very nice,” I agreed.
“I hope you like cake.” She looked at me with a question in her eyes.
“I love anything sweet.”
“So do I,” she said with a sigh as she set a slice of cake in front of me, then ran her hands over her apron.
“Now, you have to tell me what you think. It’s a cherry poke cake.”
She didn’t have to twist my arm. I took a bite, then closed my eyes as the flavors hit my taste buds. “This is so good.”
She sat across from me with a slice of cake in front of her. “The secret is to poke holes in the cake after it’s done and cooled. Then melt white chocolate chips with sweetened milk. You know, the kind that’s so thick you could eat it as a dessert all by itself.” She grinned. “I always lick the spoon. But once it’s melted with the chips, pour it over the cake, then top with sweetened, cherries or strawberries—like for a pie. Then I iced it with some of my homemade whipped cream.”
“It’s delicious. This whipped cream topping is so rich.”
She beamed with pride. “That’s because our neighbor has a milk cow and his own chickens. You can’t get fresher ingredients than that. Herbert and I go over once a week to replenish our supplies.”
As soon as she said her husband’s name, her face took on a warm glow. It always surprised me when I came across love like this. “How long have you been married?”
“We’ll be celebrating fifty years in August.” Sh
e shook her head. “It doesn’t seem that long ago. I knew the minute I saw him that he was the man I would marry. I was fourteen.”
I coughed. “You were fourteen?”
She nodded and smiled wider. “He was seventeen. We married a year later. Our life hasn’t been perfect, just nearly perfect. I love him as much now as I did that day I first saw him. Herbert is a good man and a great husband.”
We continued to talk about her life with Herbert, their children, and their grandchildren, which she said could do no wrong. Then, since we both loved to cook, we shared recipe ideas until Layne and Herbert joined us.
By the time we left, I knew I would never look at another bottle of wine the same way, or meet anyone as special as Alice and Herbert.
“Thank you for bringing me,” I told Layne.
“I enjoyed the company,” he said.
“I liked meeting Herbert and his wife. They both seemed really nice. Did you know they’ll be celebrating fifty years this August? I can’t imagine anyone being married that long, or as much in love as they seem to be.”
We returned to the apartment complex and got out of Layne’s pickup. I was suddenly nervous as we made our way to our apartments. I couldn’t remember a time when I had been in someone’s company this long and not been at work. I liked Layne, probably a little too much, but I was starting to feel suffocated.
We stopped at my door. I fumbled in my pocket for my key.
“Hey, did I tell you I had a good time today?” he asked.
I looked up. “I think so.”
He studied me for a moment, then leaned down, his lips brushing against mine. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” He turned and went to his apartment as I unlocked mine and went inside.
Had he sensed my need to be alone? Or maybe he’d been tired of my company. I shook my head as I dropped my purse and keys on the table. The reason didn’t matter. I needed time to digest what I was feeling, and why I’d told Layne so much about my past. I never talked about it to anyone.
I walked to my bedroom window and stared out. There was a park right behind the complex. A few people still sat at tables, but most of them were leaving as the afternoon came to a close.