by Tessa Layne
Sterling joined them, looking deadly. “Problem over here?”
Jason shook his head. “They were just leaving.”
Nico waved his tasting glass. “Actually, we’ve just arrived. Let’s have a taste. Ronnie, you too. Let’s see what brother dear has been up to in the last year.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Mike, Emma, and Macey had closed ranks around Millie. He should be doing that, too. But as soon as his brother and Ronnie figured out their relationship, Millie would have a bullseye painted on her back. They’d find her vulnerable underbelly and come after her, because that’s what they did.
“Hand me the bottle, Sterling,” he said tersely.
A bottle materialized in his hand. He poured a sample, watching Nico closely for a reaction. Nico drew in a long sip, eyes closed. Then they flew open, wide with surprise. Then a scowl. “What in the hell have you been doing out there in the boondocks, stealing our family secrets?”
He laughed harshly. “There’s no secret to good wine-making, Nico. It takes discipline and patience, and maybe a little artistry. You possess none of those qualities.”
Nico’s hand fisted and he glared back. “Pretty bold of you to claim that.”
“I told you, I’m not in this to win it. I just offered to help a friend.”
Behind him, one of the women gasped indignantly. He’d apologize to Millie later, but they didn’t know his family. “Anything else?”
Ronnie spoke, voice dripping with syrup. “I want to see this place. How cute is that?” she cried when she took a closer look at the pictures. “Are you the winemaker?” She cooed at Millie.
“I am,” she answered calmly. “But Jason helped me. I couldn’t have managed without his expertise.”
Panic raced through Jason. No. Nononono. That was the last thing she should have said. They would have her in their sights for sure, now.
“Is that so?” Ronnie shot a meaningful look at Nico. “Come look at the pictures of these grapes, Nico. Don’t they look interesting?
Nico stepped over to examine the photos, face growing mottled with anger as he spun around. “Did you say these were cabernet franc grapes?”
Millie nodded.
“Where did they come from? Where did you get them?”
“I-I don’t know. They’ve been in my family since I was a little girl.”
Jason went cold. If Nico recognized them, there was no doubt where they came from. The question was, how did his family’s proprietary strain of cabernet franc end up in Millie’s vineyard?
Mike stepped up. “Is there a problem?”
“One that doesn’t concern you, old man,” Nico said with a dismissive wave.
“Enough,” Jason spat, trying and failing to keep his voice low. People were starting to stare, and the last thing Millie needed was bad publicity in the wine industry. “If you have a problem with our wine, lodge a formal complaint. Otherwise, you’re just being an asshole.”
“Who’s being an asshole?” his brother Austin asked as he stepped up.
“Your brother,” Macey hissed, coming to stand in front of him.
Holy fucking shit, this was turning into the showdown at the O.K. Corral.
“Well, aren’t you a sweet, spicy thing?” Austin shot back, not taking his eyes from Macey.
“I don’t let my friends swing in the wind,” she retorted, glaring.
“Take a look at the pictures of the vines, Austin,” Nico said. “I think you’ll be surprised at what you see.”
“Excuse me, princess, I’d love to stay and chat, but duty calls,” he said to Macey as he sidestepped her to study the photographs.
Macey followed him, cheeks high with color. “You don’t know the first thing about duty.”
Austin ignored her. “Where did these come from?” he asked after viewing the photos.
“Obviously, they were stolen,” Nico said tightly. “The question is when, and by whom?” He leveled a glare full of loathing at Jason. “I don’t know what games you’re playing, but they’re over. Austin, find Dec, we need to lodge an official complaint.” Nico spun on his heel, leaving Austin and Veronica to follow. With a wink at Macey, Austin departed, leaving Veronica.
Jason stared after his brothers, seething. He never should have risked bringing Millie to San Francisco, but his ego had gotten the best of him. And now, his suspicions relative to the origins of Millie’s grapes were about to be confirmed in the worst possible way. And at what cost to Millie?
“You love her, don’t you?” Veronica murmured so only he could hear.
“Go away, Ronnie. I have nothing to say to you.”
“I can see it in the way you look at her. You looked at me that way, once upon a time.”
Jason clenched his jaw, all the old anger and hurt amplifying his state. But if he was going to help Millie get through the shitstorm that was about to hit, he needed to keep a cool head.
“I miss you.”
He held up a hand. “Stop. Just. Stop. You have no power over me anymore. Go find your husband,” he practically spit. “Unless you’re finished with him, too?”
Low blow, but he couldn’t help it. He’d learned the hard way that Veronica was the center of her universe, and she lived for herself, screw anyone who got in the way.
Her eyes narrowed to slits, like a bedazzled cobra, ready to strike. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. And if that’s the best you can do,” she said jerking her head in Millie’s direction. “Well, good luck with that. Your family will never accept her.”
“Ask me how many shits I give,” he said.
Veronica shook her head with a tsk. “Someday, you’ll regret walking away from all of this. Mark my words. And by then, it will be too late. The rest of us won’t give any shits. Nice to see you again, Jase,” she said using the familiar, as she turned on a stiletto and wobbled after Nico. Coming from Ronnie, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard, nothing like the way Millie said his name.
He had to talk to her. In private. Brushing past Sterling, Emma, and Mike, he took Millie by the elbow. “Come with me.”
“Jason, what’s going on? What was that all about?” Millie peered up at him, worry written across her face, as she struggled to keep up. He ushered her through the room, out the ballroom doors, down the grand staircase, and into an alcove beyond the bar. Hopefully here, they were out of earshot of any industry wonks. “Jase,” she said more sharply. “What’s going on?”
He spun around. “That’s what I’d like to know. It appears that somehow you ended up with a proprietary strain of cabernet franc that my family worked for decades to cultivate. Nico’s on his way to lodge a complaint with the judges that could disqualify you from this competition and ban you from others. If their complaint has legs, they could sue you for your whole farm. At the very least, demand proof that you’ve destroyed the grapes.”
“But my parents planted those grapes together. It was the last thing we did as a family.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Your father stole those grapes, Millie,” he said harshly. “He told me himself, he worked at our vineyards when you were younger.”
A tear spilled down her cheek. “He’s not a thief. He’s the most honest trustworthy, compassionate person I know.”
“Then how did those grapes, our grapes, end up in Kansas? A stork didn’t bring them.”
A throat cleared behind them. “I’m the one you need to talk to, son. Millie is innocent in all of this.” Mike stepped into the alcove.
“Are they our grapes?” He had to know. If they were, there was probably nothing he could do to save her vineyard. His family owned the rights to those grapes.
“The short answer is yes, the long answer is, I’m not so sure.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Why all the cloak and dagger? What’s going on?” Sterling asked as he stepped into the alcove with Emma and Macey in tow.
“Who’s minding the wine?”
�
�We’re all out,” Sterling said, hugging Emma to his side. “Everyone loved it. But we’d rather be where the action is. What’s going on and how can we help?”
“Jason thinks dad stole the grapes from his family, and his brothers are trying to get us disqualified,” Millie said with a sniffle and a glare in his direction.
“That’s not–”
“That’s exactly what you said, Jason Case, and my dad isn’t a thief. He’d never steal. Right?” She said, eyes pleading with Mike.
“I didn’t steal them,” Mike said. “On my honor. But I came by the clippings… er, unconventionally.”
Of course. Because did this family do anything by the book? Jason crossed his arms. “How?” he said tersely.
Mike tugged at his collar, grimacing and looking very uneasy. “Well,” he drew out the vowel. “Back in the day, your head grower, Morrie, and I used to have a smoke of an evening.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he and your head guy used to get stoned together,” Millie supplied.
Jason leveled a glare at Mike. “Is that true?”
Mike shrugged. “We weren’t getting stoned. More just having a smoke to open up the senses and the mind.”
“You were getting stoned,” he said flatly.
“Well one night, not too long before we left the area, Morrie and I were discussing the finer points of terroir, and he gave me a plant, said it had been a cab franc he’d been experimenting with. Told me to take care of it, and when I got home to Kansas to plant it, and report back. He mumbled something about going into business together if it held up in the heat. I brought it back and gave it to Charlene. Charlene stuck it in the ground on one of our trips back to visit Aunt Millie before she died. Way out where the vineyard is. And to be honest, we forgot about it. When Charlene got sick, and we moved home to Kansas, the plant had gone wild, and Charlene wanted to take cuttings from the mother plant and make a vineyard.”
Mike cleared his throat and looked at all of them, eyes far-off in a memory. “I think she knew cancer was gonna get her, and she wanted to leave a legacy. Something uniquely her for Millie and I to hang onto. To feel close to her when we walked the rows.”
Jason looked from Millie’s face, etched with grief, to the bleak expression on Mike’s. Next to Sterling, Macey sniffed. Jesus. They’d all experienced such grief. Every single one of them present had lost someone dear to them. And it would kill Mike and Millie to tear up their vineyard. He couldn’t let it happen. No matter what.
Puffing his cheeks, he blew out a breath. “This situation is pretty FUBAR. Morrie’s been gone a long time, and I have no idea what he was up to, if he was secretly cultivating his own strains from our experimental lot. But your grape leaves look exactly like a more heat-tolerant strain we worked on for years. But it was never tested outside of our growing zone. If yours are those grapes, they’ve proven you can make good wine. My brothers will insist you pay millions of dollars in licensing fees, or they’ll insist you rip out the vines.” His heart wrenched at Millie’s gasp of horror.
Mike looked green about the gills. “I’m sick about this. Morrie was a good friend. I just thought it was a nice gesture. Didn’t think twice about it.”
“I can’t tear out those vines, Jason,” Millie said, a tremble in her voice. “I talk to my mother there. I feel her there.” A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek.
“It’s either that or lose your farm. At least you’ll still have your farm. And don’t think my brothers won’t go after your farm if they think they’ve been wronged. They’d love nothing more to turn it into a golf-course just to stick a finger in my eye.”
Sterling spoke up. “There’s one option you could consider.”
“What’s that?”
He gave him a meaningful look and looked over at Emma.
“I don’t follow?”
He picked up Emma’s left hand and kissed the top of it. Then stared at him again, and back to Emma.
Jason let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be fucking obtuse. We don’t have time.”
Sterling rolled his eyes, mouth quirking. “You could marry her.”
“Marry Millie?”
“Sure. Kansas is a no-fault state. So once you’re married, property is mutually owned. And, since Millie insists on giving you co-winemaker credit, then you could legitimately say the grapes are still under control of the Case family.”
“Man, you should have been a JAG.”
Sterling chuckled. “Nah. But I sure like sticking it to your little brothers.”
Jason turned to Millie. “What do you say? Wanna get married? We could be in Reno in three-and-a-half hours.”
Emma and Macey gasped. Millie blinked, staring at him.
“What do you think? Wanna get married and save your vineyard?” Why was she staring at him like he had three heads? It was the perfect solution. He could protect her and the grapes, his brothers wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if they were married.
She glared at him.
“Millie?” What was wrong?
“No.” She shook her head.
“No?” He reeled as if she’d slapped him in the face. “Why not? It makes perfect sense. It’s the perfect solution.”
She blinked rapidly, mouth pulling into a frown. “It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. I can never marry you,” her voice caught on a sob. “Not like this.” She pushed through the group and disappeared.
“Millie, wait,” he called.
He started after her, but Mike put a restraining hand on his arm. “Let her go, son.” His voice held a note of warning.
“I’ll try and catch her,” Macey said and disappeared.
Jason looked at his remaining friends. “I don’t understand. What just happened?”
Sterling chuckled and clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Welcome to the fuck-up club, my man. You need to go back and read another one of those romance books from Millie’s basket. As far as proposals go, that one sucked balls.”
Jason’s stomach dropped to the floor. “What do you mean? I’m doing it to help her.”
“Exactly,” he said, gently tapping him on the head. “Millie might be direct, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want a pity proposal. No woman wants that.”
Motherfucker. Now what?
CHAPTER 21
Millie blindly pushed out of the doors of the hotel and onto the busy street. She had to get as far away from here as possible. So not only had Jason been previously engaged, but the only reason he wanted to marry her was to stick it to his brothers? She appreciated the sentiment of wanting to save her vineyard. But not at the cost of being in a marriage with someone who had one foot out the door.
Brushing the tears from her eyes, she turned left, walking downhill, not caring where she ended up. She didn’t even have a purse. She loved Jason. He loved her. They were good together. Scratch that, they were great. But not once had he even hinted at a permanent status to their relationship. And she hadn’t pushed. Heck, her own parents hadn’t officially gotten married until a few years before her mother died, and only then, because she’d insisted.
Her parents had always told her they were married in spirit, where it mattered. That pieces of paper were meaningless, marriage was about the heart. And yet, she’d come to believe that the piece of paper meant something too. Something deeper, something more permanent than I love you today.
For Jason to be so flip with a proposal, hurt. It demeaned everything she believed about marriage. She wouldn’t dream of driving to Reno or flying to Vegas, to get married by Elvis, or in a drive-through, even if it meant saving her beloved vines. She wanted an old-fashioned country wedding, surrounded by friends and family. And she’d never in a million years, pressure someone, especially Jason, to marry her. If he couldn’t come to the table freely, surely, and with love in his heart, then soulmate or no, she wouldn’t marry him. Even if it cost her her beloved vines. At the very least, she coul
d take a clipping from the mother vine and pot it. She’d never make wine with those grapes again, but she could at least keep the memory of her mother alive.
What she wouldn’t give right now for some runes, or a deck of tarot cards. Or a medium. But she’d left her purse in the hotel room. She didn’t even have a room key, or I.D. If someone mugged her and threw her body in the bay, she’d spend eternity as Jane Doe in a refrigerator at the morgue. She shook off the maudlin thoughts, and stopped in front of a sign that said “FREE COFFEE DAY OR NIGHT.” Offering a silent prayer of thanks, she stepped in, clearly overdressed among the homeless and wandering.
“Do you need help?” asked the young volunteer who handed her a steaming cardboard cup of coffee.
She gave the young woman a small smile. “Only the cosmic kind.”
The volunteer flashed her a sympathetic smile. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. We’ll call you a complimentary cab, if you need to get someplace.”
“Thanks.” She moved away, to a small booth in the corner, next to a window. Outside, the lights began to wink on as the late afternoon light faded. They would have announced the winners by now. And her disqualification. At least she wasn’t there to experience public shaming, with Jason’s brothers and stick-insect former fiancée looking down their noses at her. No wonder he’d cut them off. How could people really be that way? How could Jason really love her when she didn’t hold a candle to Veronica? Jason had probably given her a proper proposal. Her heart felt like lead in her chest, threatening to drag her under. She sighed, resting her chin on the heel of her hand and fingering the necklace he’d given her. He’d given her a necklace, that was something, right? So stick-insect got the ring and the proposal, she got the necklace. Tears watered her eyes again. Gawd, she hadn’t cried this much since she’d lost her mother. Get. A. Grip. Drawing in a deep breath, she gulped the coffee, relishing the scald licking her throat all the way down.
By the time she thanked the volunteer for the coffee one last time and requested a cab to the hotel, the clock on the far wall showed nine o’clock. The cab pulled to a stop in front of the hotel, and she jumped out, making a beeline for the elevator. The first door she knocked on was her dad’s. He answered the door with a look of relief on his face.