A Hero’s Home

by Tessa Layne

  She studied the floor. “I would never pressure you to be someone you’re not, or deliver something you don’t feel you can give.” Her eyes flicked up. “There’s nothing wrong with taking this a day at a time, finding our way together. We could try things until harvest and see how we feel.”

  A surge of adrenaline hit him. This felt… big. Like the feeling he had the entire plane ride to his first mission as a Ranger. Exciting. Sickening. He nodded, bringing his emotions to heel. “I’d love to stay and help you this summer when I’m not needed at the ranch.”

  The only thing he could hear was the pounding of his blood in his ears. She bridged the distance between them, coming to tiptoe and looping her arms behind his neck. “I’d love that, too.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

  As he kissed her back, his stomach lurched like it had the very first time he jumped out of a plane. Geronifuckingmo.

  CHAPTER 15

  August

  Harvest Day. Millie had been looking forward to this early morning with a mixture of dread and anticipation. She loved harvest day, but right now, not so much. Her stomach hollowed as she glanced down the row to where Jason and her father were setting out harvest buckets. In the wide path, a large flatbed tractor stood with four macro bins, where the grapes would go. Today was supposed to be a celebration, a culmination of all their hard work, and Jason had worked them harder than she’d ever imagined, with astounding results. The grape clusters had never looked so full and vibrant. She shut her eyes against the wave of grief that washed over her. Her mother should be in the kitchen, making the harvest lunch, not Jamey Sinclaire.

  And Jason? He’d been willing to stay through the harvest. But what next? She pushed away the maudlin thoughts, unwilling to think about potential heartbreak on a perfectly glorious morning. She would embrace every moment today, tuck it away in her heart for future examination. If he left, at least she would have lovely memories to sustain her when the days felt dark and gloomy. Blinking back the prickles that suddenly irritated her eyeballs, she took a deep breath and made her way to where Jason and her father stood, heads bent in deep conversation.

  Jason might protest that he was done with wine, but she knew better. All summer, as the grapes progressed toward maturity, he’d become more and more involved with Moonbeam Acres, even asking to borrow some of her dad’s books on the principals of biodynamic farming.

  Joining them, she slipped an arm around Jason’s waist. “Are we all set?”

  He squeezed back, dropping a kiss to her head. “Yep. We did a final check on the Brix level, we’re ready to harvest.”

  “I’m nervous,” she admitted. “This feels like the first real harvest, like all the others were just practice runs.”

  “You’re going to make great wine this year. I have a good feeling about this.”

  She grinned up at him raising an eyebrow. “The science didn’t predict it?”

  He smiled ruefully. “Maybe you’ve rubbed off on me, just a little bit. And speaking of, are you sure it’s okay to harvest today? I know you were hoping to wait for the full moon, but I’m afraid if we wait, we’ll miss our window. The Brix are just where we want them.”

  “I’m okay. If the sugars won’t wait for the moon, then we shouldn’t either.” Maybe he’d rubbed off a little on her, too.

  They turned as a line of pickup trucks slowly made their way up the wide path between the vineyards. Joining them this morning were all the neighbors, the Sinclaires, Hansens, and Graces, as well as a group Travis and Sterling were bringing from Resolution Ranch. Twenty in all. Millie blinked back tears as the group assembled. She could feel her mother smiling down on them, heart full and golden as a sunbeam.

  Jason whistled, and the group quieted. “Thanks everyone, for joining us this morning. Together we’ll make short work of this vineyard, and then have a celebratory lunch on Millie’s back porch that Jamey Sinclaire is preparing.”

  “Does she need any help?” Elaine Ryder asked, bouncing little Avery in a sling.

  “She said to let you know she’s got everything under control,” Millie chimed in.

  “Do I get to prune, too?” Elaine’s son, Dax, asked, bouncing up and down.

  “If you’re very gentle with the grapes,” Jason admonished. “I’ll show you all how to prune in just a second. Simon, maybe you can help Dax?” He lifted his chin at Simon Sinclaire, now a lanky teenager, and almost as tall as his much older half-brothers.

  “You bet,” Simon answered, voice coming out in a squawk.

  “Everyone have their pruners and gloves?”

  A murmur passed through the group as everyone waved their equipment.

  “The process is simple, gang,” Jason started. “Clip the top of a cluster, and gently place it in your bucket. When your bucket is full, bring it down the row and pour it into the designated macro bin. Each bin holds around a half-ton of grapes. Mike here, will be overseeing that part of the process, keeping track of which grapes from which rows get into which bins.”

  “That’s a lot of which’s,” Brodie Sinclaire piped up. “How do you know who’s on first?”

  Once the laughter subsided, Jason continued. “Watch out for bees and the occasional spider. Mike and I inspected the vines early this morning, and I didn’t spot any fruit rot, but if you see spoiled fruit, don’t clip that cluster. Questions?”

  A chorus of “Nope,” “We’re ready,” “Let’s get to it,” and “When do we eat?” erupted. As the group dispersed, her dad turned on a boom box he’d jury-rigged to the tractor, and the sounds of the Allman Brothers Band filled the air. Millie bent and grabbed a bucket, not content to stand and watch everyone work without her.

  “Wait,” Jason said, pulling her into a loose embrace. “Have I told you how beautiful you look this morning?” His hand slid possessively down her waist to cup her ass. His brows knit together. “Tell me you’re wearing something underneath that pretty blue skirt.”

  She smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

  He dropped his head back with a groan. “You sure know how to torture a man.”

  “You sure know how to make my heart run wild,” she offered hesitantly. Every day it grew harder to refrain from admitting her feelings for him. And if he left, she’d be more crushed than the grapes.

  “Mmm,” he smiled wickedly. “Maybe I can do something about that later.”

  She pressed into him, offering up her mouth. “Promise?”

  The kiss he gave her set her pussy throbbing wildly. She’d have dragged him back to bed if it was any other early morning. Or snuck off to some far corner of the vineyard if not for the certainty they’d be discovered in flagrante.

  “On my honor,” he answered with a thick burr.

  The morning passed quickly, and while the sun was still low in the sky, Dax dumped the last bucket into the macro bin with Jason’s help, and a cheer from the rest of them. Sterling set about gathering up the buckets and loaded them on the front of the flatbed. Her dad fired up the tractor, and they all walked behind as it slowly made its way down the hill to the crushing pad.

  When they arrived, Jason handed out silicone gloves. “Now for the fun part.”

  “I had fun this morning,” Dax piped up.

  Jason smiled indulgently at the young boy, and Millie’s heart did a flip-flop. She’d always imagined herself with children one day, in the hypothetical sense, but seeing Jason with Dax and Simon today had made her ovaries sing. Never before had she imagined having children with someone, but she could see what a patient and kind father Jason would be, and that made her love him more. But what tied her up in knots? She suspected her dad adored Jason, too. He’d been happy to be the only male on a farm full of women, never complaining. But she imagined that he longed for male companionship, a son. Jason had stepped into that role with enthusiasm, staying up late arguing politics with her father, or discussing the finer points of conventional versus organic agriculture. They’d developed a deep mutual respect for each other that w
armed her inside out when she saw them together. If Jason decided this was all he could handle, and it was time to part ways, her dad would be devastated, too.

  “I had fun, too,” Simon agreed.

  “Well, it’s about to get even better.”

  “Do we get to stomp grapes?”

  “Dax, you’re shouting,” Elaine admonished.

  “It’s okay. Nope. Nobody stomps grapes in the U.S. At least not to make wine.”

  “Oh.” Dax’s shoulders slumped.

  “But don’t worry, Jamey made homemade ice-cream for after lunch.”

  Dax brightened. It slayed Millie, Jason always knew what to say to put a smile on people’s faces.

  Jason scanned the group. “Some of you might be standing around for a bit. We only have one de-stemmer. The process is pretty simple. We need a couple people to place clusters on the conveyer belt. Several us will pull leaves or bad grapes, and then they get put through the destemmer and drop into the crusher. We’ll assign one macro-bin to each soaking tank. That way we can track the flavor development coming from different parts of the vineyard.”

  “Why don’t I take Avery and see if Jamey needs extra help?” Elaine offered.

  “I’ll go with Elaine,” Hope Sinclaire chimed in.

  They set to work, and by lunch, the grapes were soaking on their skins in four separate tanks. “Now we wait,” Jason said.

  “And celebrate,” added Mike. “Who’s ready for lunch and wine?”

  Millie’s stomach dropped to her toes. Harvest was officially over. Winemaking had officially begun. Jason was free to go.

  “Hey,” Jason called as the last person exited the barn. “You look sad.”

  She forced a smile, blinking slowly. “Bittersweet.”

  He tilted her chin with a finger, studying her intently. God, if he kept looking at her like that, she’d burst into tears and do something utterly humiliating, like beg him to stay. She shut her eyes.

  “Millie.” He spoke her name so tenderly, with such concern. She couldn’t take it. She dragged in a ragged breath, fighting for some kind of control. “Sweetheart, what is it?

  Aaaaannd a tear escaped. Crap. She sniffed. This wasn’t going at all like she’d expected. “How can I be happy when it means that you’re going?” she blurted.

  “That’s what you think?” He sounded shocked.

  The tears were leaking out of her eyes like a bad faucet. “You said, you’d help through harvest, and I tried, I tried so hard not to fall in love with you,” she sniffed, batting at her eye with the back of her hand. “But you’re this amazing person, and your heart’s all twisted up in knots and it seemed like it was untwisting, and I love how you kiss me, and how you make me feel, and I love seeing your eyes light up when something makes you smile, and if you’re going to go I’ll figure things out like I always do, and dad will too, but I, but I–” she stopped, throat too tight to go on. And now she was going to be a snotty, puffy mess when she showed up at lunch and everyone would know something was wrong and stare at her like she had six heads.

  He pulled her into an embrace, hand coming to her head. “You’re something else, Millie Prescott. Something else.” His voice sounded gravelly, thick. He kissed her head, then squeezed her tighter, as if he was holding on for dear life.

  “We have lots to talk about tonight. But I have no plans to leave.”

  She nodded into his chest, holding back a sob. Pain knifed through her. He hadn’t said he loved her, too.

  CHAPTER 16

  She loved him. She fucking loved him. What was he supposed to do with that? That hadn’t been the mission. Millie hadn’t been the mission, the grapes had been the mission, and he’d accomplished that with the same excellence he executed every mission. Maybe a little too excellent. His mind raced as he stared at her from across the table filled to groaning with roasted vegetables, cheeses, sausages, salads, and beautiful desserts. Jamey had gone all out, and Mike had brought up a case of Millie’s wine he’d managed to reserve from last year. Dax and Simon were taking bets as to whether or not the bottles would explode when he popped the caps.

  How had she managed to tunnel under all his defenses? Somewhere, early on, this had ceased being about helping make a better wine, and had become about getting to know Millie and her father. About making her come repeatedly with his mouth, his fingers, and his cock. He’d never made love like he made love with Millie. And yet, he still held back, unwilling to expose his bare belly to her scrutiny in case she found him wanting. Because at the end of the day, whether he liked it or not, whether he could creatively make her come, he was still half a man. And the sooner she realized that, the sooner this fling would come to its necessary end.

  He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do, then. Staying away from her would hurt like hell, but she wouldn’t want him when she saw the reality he lived with. Hell, who was he fooling? He was in love with the crazy girl and her dad. He couldn’t walk away from them anymore than he could have walked away from his friendship with Sterling and Johnny. She’d taken root in his heart, and he didn’t have the courage to rip her out. Which only left one course of action – baring himself, warts and all. The thought of that made his stomach churn like a washing machine.

  Mike tapped on a glass, calling the table to attention. “Thank you, everyone, for helping us today. Truth be told, I never thought I’d live to see the day where an event like this took place, and it’s all thanks to the young man at the end of the table.” Mike looked at him and raised his glass. “A man–” Mike’s voice grew rough. “Who, this summer, has come to feel like a son to me.”

  Fingers clutched at Jason’s heart, stealing his breath. Heat raced up his neck as the group around the table cheered and raised their glasses. Speechless, he raised his glass to Mike, hoping the acknowledgment would be enough. If he spoke now, he was quite sure he’d break down. Sterling shot him a meaningful glance, as he pulled Emma closer. Sterling was going to marry Emma Sinclaire someday. It was only a matter of time. Jason scanned the table. Shit. They all stared at him expectantly. He swallowed and sought Millie’s eyes, drawing strength from her deep blue eyes, filled with such faith in him.

  He cleared his throat. “The feeling’s mutual, Mike. And Millie, sweetheart? This was all you. I came to Prairie never expecting to ‘do wine’ again. You’ve made this journey surprising, at times frustrating, and most importantly, fun. I’ll look back on this forever as the summer I found home within myself. And it’s because of you.” He raised his glass, and the group followed suit, offering their congratulations. But his words didn’t have their desired effect, at least not on Millie. Instead of seeing the winsome smile he’d come to love so much, she looked pensive, sad. As if she bore the weight of the world. His mind began to race as he covered other options – something, anything other than what he knew he had to do. But there was no avoiding it any longer.

  When everyone was gone, and the dishes were cleared and put away, and it was only the two of them, he came to her where she stood wiping down the sink. Bracing his arms on either side of the counter, he caged her in. She stilled, hand clutching the sponge. Bowing his head, he caught the faint scent of her perfume mingled with dirt, sweat, and the sticky sweetness of the grapes they’d harvested. He breathed her in. This was home. She was home. Moving her hair to the side to expose her neck, he kissed along her shoulder, a current of awareness zipping through him at the shiver he caused. “Lovely,” he murmured next to her ear, sliding a hand to her waist, then lower. He bunched the fabric of her skirt, drawing it up high enough he could slip his hand underneath to the soft expanse of her thigh.

  She sighed as he traced an upward path to the curve of her ass. He loved this ass, the feel of it in his hands, its roundness, the way it filled out her jeans. He drew a finger across the curve, running back and forth where it met her leg, sweeping closer with each caress to the object of his goal. She shifted slightly, widening her stance, and he stroked forward, pleased to discover her pussy slick an
d ready. “I love how you’re always ready for me, babe,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

  She made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a purr. The sound went straight to his cock. “Do you want me to make you come?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She nodded, rolling her hips into his hand.

  Sliding a finger through her slick folds, he found her clit already hard. Gently, he caressed over it, barely touching it, and again, before pressing a finger into her hot channel. With a gasp she clenched around him and bore down, spurring him on. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

  “Oh god, yes,” she panted, body undulating against him. She slipped her hand inside the waistband, meeting his fingers with her own as she sought her clit, pulling and rubbing as he pumped into her, the wetness of her arousal coating them both.

  “I love you, Millie,” he whispered. The declaration slipped out like the most natural thing in the world. In this moment, she was too glorious, too beautiful. “I love you like this, hot and ready for me, the way your skin turns pink, and you make these noises. I love everything about you.”

  With a sharp cry, she came apart, head falling back then forward, shudders wracking her body as her pussy gripped him. He pumped harder, encouraging her to ride the wave as long as possible. Only when her breathing returned to normal did he draw away, letting her skirt fall back into place. She turned around, gazing up at him with burning eyes. Holding her gaze, he licked every last drop of her essence from her fingers, reveling in the salty sweetness of her arousal. Her mouth dropped open, tongue slicking her lower lip as she watched, enthralled.

  Then he stepped into her space, forcing her gaze up, and he lowered his head, taking her mouth with slow, deliberate strokes, tasting the remnants of wine on her tongue, devouring her until she was breathless.

  “I love you, Millie,” he said when they broke apart. “And we have to talk, but I need a shower.”

  Her eyes lit in anticipation.

  “Alone.”