by MJ Duncan
Bryn knew that it was ridiculous to care so much about what somebody thought of her home, but she still felt an incredible sense of relief at Anna’s approval. So far, so good. “Thank you.”
Anna’s brow furrowed ever so slightly as she studied Bryn for a moment, making Bryn feel like she could somehow see right through her, before she nodded and reached out to give Bryn’s forearm a light squeeze. “You’re welcome.”
Bryn’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down at Anna’s hand. She usually hated being touched by anyone because she never knew how to respond and always ended up doing or saying the wrong thing, but there was something about the loose wrap of Anna’s fingers around her arm that she found oddly reassuring. It filled her with a sense of calm that told her she did not have to do anything, which was as disconcerting as it was nice, and she offered Anna a shaky smile as she asked, “So…would you like to start that tour I promised you?”
“Of course.” Anna smiled and pulled her hand away. “I’m looking forward to it. Lead the way.”
Eleven
“And this is the barrel room.” Bryn waved a hand at the large cave-like room that was cut into the hillside beneath the tasting room. Three aisles ran down the length of the long room, providing access to the six rows of wine-filled casks that filled them. The walls were brick, curving overhead as a barrier against the earth that insulated the room, keeping the air the perfect temperature for wine to age. That temperature, however, felt a little cool when one was used to the warmth of summer, and Bryn hugged herself to try and ward off the chill.
Anna did not seem to notice the drop in temperature as she wandered deeper amongst the casks. Her eyes were wide as she looked around, her face a perfect mask of almost childlike wonder. “This is so cool.”
Bryn hung back in the doorway, content to watch Anna explore. She took a deep breath and let the familiar scent of redwood and oak that permeated the air settle her nerves. Had the winery been in full production-mode, the area would have smelled differently—sharp and ripe from fermenting grapes and the anti-bacterial sulfite solution that was used to clean the machinery after every batch. But now, with the production facility closed until the harvest, earthier aromas imbued the air, reminding her of a trip she had taken to Tuscany during her final year of master’s coursework at Oxford. She had flown to the continent on a whim, desperate for a break from the rigors of her schoolwork. She had roamed the countryside for five amazing days, exploring the vineyards that dotted the idyllic hills, free from the demands of her studies and her family as she dared to allow herself to dream of a future where she might finally do what she wanted, instead of what was expected.
Dreams, of course, are dreams because they cannot ever become reality, and after she graduated from Oxford, she was ordered back to Boston by her parents who insisted she take her place at the family’s firm now that her academic credentials were “finally presentable”.
Bryn shivered as she remembered how empty she had felt back in Boston. She had worked impossibly long hours to try and meet her father’s exacting demands, without ever once succeeding, and had been all but forced to accept dates with men her mother found acceptable—whom she almost universally loathed. The few that had made it past that first date rarely lingered much beyond two, and only three intrepid souls had ever managed to last longer than two months, though none made it longer than six.
She took a deep breath, savoring the earthy blend of wood, spice, and tannins that reminded her of those stolen moments of happiness she had found in Italy so many years before. She did not want to think of Boston, or her parents, or the fact that they still believed she was an absolute failure because she was the owner of a small winery in Washington instead of serving as CEO of Nakamura Financial back in Boston. Even now, as she lived her dream, they still managed to consistently find a way to spoil it for her.
“This is really cool. Thanks for showing me around.”
Bryn opened her eyes at the sound of Anna’s voice, her eyebrows lifting in surprise when she saw that Anna was standing right in front of her. While she had been wrapped in her thoughts, Anna had finished her journey to the far end of the cave and crossed back to where she waited. Anna stood so close that, had Bryn wanted to, she could have easily reached out and touched her. Just the idea of doing so made Bryn’s pulse jump, and she licked her lips nervously as she took a small step back, wondering what it was about Anna Fitzpatrick that allowed the brunette to slip so easily past all of her walls.
“My pleasure,” Bryn murmured. Anna’s smile was so soft and warm that she could not help but return it in kind, and she let out a long breath as she tilted her head at the open doorway behind them “Shall we?”
“Of course. So, what’s next?” Anna asked as she fell into step beside Bryn. “Do I get to taste some of this wine you’ve been raving about?”
“Would you like to? I didn’t know how long you were planning on staying, and I didn’t want to…”
“I was planning on staying until you kicked me out,” Anna said with a shrug.
Bryn held her breath as Anna’s eyes roamed over her face, searching for something that Bryn was certain she did not possess. “Oh,” Bryn whispered. She took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “Okay, then.”
“Okay.” Anna repeated. Her shoulder twitched like she was going to reach for Bryn like she had back at the house, but she just jammed her hands into her pockets and nodded. “So…wine. I get to taste some, right?”
“You do, yes. Do you have a favorite type?”
“Not white,” Anna said, shaking her head. “And not that pink zinfandel stuff my mom likes.”
Bryn smiled. “Well, lucky for you, the only whites on this property are for cooking, and none of them are pink. Red wines, however, are plentiful.”
“Awesome. Although I probably shouldn’t try too much. Don’t want to accidentally take a shortcut through a vineyard when I drive home.”
“No, we certainly wouldn’t want that,” Bryn murmured. She smiled at Anna as she walked through the door the other woman held open for her, and slipped her sunglasses into place as they stepped into early-afternoon sunlight.
“Yeah.” Anna chuckled and put on her own sunglasses. “Or, you know, you can get me wasted and point me in the direction of your biggest competitor.”
Bryn chuckled. “That certainly is an idea… Imagine the damage you could do if you were intoxicated and not just dodging harmless insects that were unfortunate enough to cross your path.”
“Shut up,” Anna muttered, nudging Bryn with her elbow.
Bryn’s step faltered at the rumbling edge to Anna’s voice, afraid that she had upset her with what she had intended to be a joke. The smile on Anna’s face, however, assured her that she, too, was joking around, and Bryn let out a soft sigh of relief. “I’m sorry?”
“No you’re not,” Anna said, and Bryn was pretty sure she rolled her eyes. “But that’s okay. Because you’re going to make it up to me.”
Bryn stopped and stared at Anna, one eyebrow lifting over the rim of her sunglasses. “I am?”
Anna nodded. “You are.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
Anna’s smile was beatific as she hopped onto the passenger’s seat in the little four-seater Polaris Ranger UTV Bryn used to get around the property. “I want that trail ride you promised me on the Fourth. And then, when we’re done…wine.”
“Oh.” Bryn nodded slowly as she climbed behind the wheel. She looked over at Anna and smiled, pleased that she was enjoying herself enough that she was in no real hurry to end the afternoon. “We can most certainly do that, though I can’t promise you that there won’t be any grasshoppers.”
Anna laughed and grabbed onto the side bar of the Ranger’s roll cage. “Yeah, I know. Glutton for punishment, remember?”
“Indeed you are,” Bryn murmured. She looked at the running shoes on Anna’s feet, and shook her head. “What size shoe do you wear?”
“Seven. Why?
”
“You need boots if you’re going to ride. I keep an old pair at the barn just in case something happens—do you think you could squeeze into a six-and-a-half?”
Anna nodded. “Yeah. I should be able to.”
“Good.” Bryn steered the quad onto the service road that ran along the back of her garage and down the hill on the other side to another service road that would lead them to the barn that was tucked in the valley of three hills toward the center of her property.
Bryn pulled to a stop outside the main doors to the barn, and scanned the area for Eva Forsberg, her barn manager, who was nowhere to be seen. Eva’s dappled Anglo-Arabian was also missing from the paddock attached to the barn, which meant that she was probably out on a ride.
“Have you ever ridden before?” Bryn asked as she slipped out of the driver’s seat.
Anna shook her head. “Do pony rides when I was a kid count?”
“No.”
“Even if I was really cute and wore a pink cowboy hat and chaps and everything?”
Bryn smiled and shook her head. “Even then, I’m afraid.”
“Damn.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“No, I’m really not,” Bryn agreed with a soft laugh. She yanked open the large sliding door set into the western end of the barn and motioned Anna inside. “After you, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”
“Anna.”
“Doctor.”
Anna huffed a breath and rolled her eyes as she stepped into the barn. “Good lord, Nakamura. And here I was thinking we had made so much progress today.”
Bryn pulled up short, her brow furrowing as she took off her sunglasses and hooked them on the back of her collar. She reached for Anna’s arm, desperate to assure her that she had only been teasing. “I was…”
“Kidding.” Anna pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. “I know. I was too. It’s fine.”
“You’re sure?” Bryn hated how soft her voice was, hated the way it revealed exactly how fragile her confidence was.
Anna took Bryn’s hand into both of hers and smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure.”
There was no mistaking the earnestness in Anna’s gaze, and Bryn sighed as she looked down at their hands. She watched the way Anna’s thumb stroked lazily over the back of her hand, and nodded as the knot of fear in her stomach loosened. “Okay. I’m just… I’m not…”
“You’re fine,” Anna said, ducking her head to catch Bryn’s eye. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Now, teach me about these beasts of yours, so that I can fall off of one the moment a grasshopper hits me in the face.”
Bryn shook her head. “You won’t fall off.”
Anna gave Bryn’s hand one last squeeze before she let it drop. “You know, it’s not very reassuring that you didn’t say I wouldn’t be hit in the face by a grasshopper.”
Grateful for the way Anna seemed to know just what to say to make her forget how awkward she really was, Bryn took a deep breath and asked, “Would you prefer I lie?”
“Never,” Anna said, shaking her head. “Now. Horses. They don’t spit, do they?”
Bryn frowned. “Of course not. Camels spit.”
Anna grinned and shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I know. I was just messing with you. Now…can we just slap a saddle on them and go, or is there something else we need to do first.”
“No, we can’t simply ‘slap a saddle on them’. They need to be groomed first.”
“Right. Groomed.” Anna pursed her lips and nodded slowly to herself as she looked around the barn. “Like, with brushes and stuff.”
“Exactly.” Bryn chuckled and waved for Anna to follow her into the tack room. She handed Anna her extra pair of boots, and once Anna had changed, she gave her the black nylon bag full of grooming supplies that Kendall kept at the barn for when she was visiting. “The good part of this is that it’ll give you and Figment a chance to get to know each other before we head out,” she said as she picked up her own bag of grooming tools.
Bryn led each of the horses from their stalls and tied their leads to a bar mounted on the wall outside the tack room. Anna listened intently as she walked her through the whole grooming process, and was pleasantly surprised at how quickly Anna picked it up. Anna’s hands slid confidently over Figment’s body, one combing or brushing while the other moved rhythmically over her sides and flanks, lulling the mare into a near-stupor. The slow, sweeping arcs of Anna’s hands were hypnotic, and Bryn had to remind herself on several occasions to focus on her own mount, or else they would never manage to leave the barn.
Once the horses were groomed and saddled, Bryn gathered their reins and smiled at Anna as she led them all outside. She looped Morgana’s reins around a hitch mounted just outside the door, and then turned to Anna. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Anna stepped up beside Figment and eyed her carefully. “Any tips?”
“Don’t fall off,” Bryn deadpanned.
Anna rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”
Bryn chuckled and handed Anna the reins. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Now, hold these, and grab onto Figment’s mane and the saddle pad with your left hand.” She nodded at the dubious look Anna gave her and, once Anna’s left hand was in place, moved around to Figment’s other side. She grabbed hold of the stirrup to offset the pressure of Anna’s mounting attempt, and smiled. “Now, place your right hand on the cantle—that’s the back of the saddle—and left foot in the stirrup.”
“Like this?”
“Perfect.” Bryn smiled. “The important thing to remember when mounting a horse from the ground is to bounce three times before you actually make the jump and put your full weight on that stirrup.”
“Why?”
“The reason is twofold, actually. First, it gives Figment time to brace herself for what is about to happen and, secondly, it allows you to build up a little momentum.”
“Right…” Anna drawled.
“I have complete faith in your abilities. So, three hops, then a big jump, use your hold on the mane and saddle to help pull yourself up, and then swing your right leg over. I’ll adjust the stirrups once you’re on.”
“Right.” Anna took a deep breath. “Hop, jump, swing.”
“Precisely.” Bryn nodded encouragingly at Anna as she watched her fingers flex around the front of the saddle, the muscles in her forearm tensing as she prepared to pull herself up.
Anna rocked back and forth two times on the ball of her right foot and then stopped to level a playful glare at Bryn. “No laughing if I don’t make it.”
“I can’t promise that,” Bryn teased. Anna was usually so confident that her obvious unease was especially endearing. “Relax, Ms. Fitzpatrick. You can do this, I’m sure of it.”
“Well, that makes one of us.” Anna looked back at the saddle in front of her. “Hop, jump, swing,” she muttered under her breath as she put the directions she had been given into action, her left thigh tensing as she pushed herself to standing on the stirrup and swung her right leg in a wide arc over Figment’s rear. She settled herself on the saddle and grinned. “How’s that?”
“Very well done.”
“Thank you.” Anna blew out a loud breath and frowned at the back of Figment’s head. “Now, how do I drive this thing?”
Bryn rolled her eyes, but could not keep her amusement from her tone when she replied, “Quite easily. Keep those—” she nodded at the reins, “—in front of you near the pommel.”
Anna looked down at the saddle. “I thought the pommel was a big knobby thing.”
“On a western saddle, it is, though you’re probably thinking of the horn, which extends from the pommel. This is an English saddle. The pommel is in the same spot as you’re thinking, it’s just not as prominent.” Bryn tipped her chin at the raised part of the saddle in front of Anna’s crotch as she adjusted the right stirrup to the proper length. She continued talking as she moved around to the other side to adjust the left one.
“Now, while you need to keep a firm hold on the reins, you don’t need to keep them pulled tight—you don’t want to put unnecessary pressure on the bit. To lead Figment into a turn, you just need to look at where you want to go, give the reins a gentle tug in that direction, and she will do the rest. The important thing to remember is that the reins are not a steering wheel. You don’t have to yank on them to get her to move.”
Anna looked down at the strips of leather in her hands and nodded. “Not a steering wheel.”
Bryn smiled. “Exactly. Figment is not a trail horse, but she does have a bit of a crush on Morgana—” she waved a hand at her own horse that was watching them intently from a few feet away, “—so she will follow my lead. You really won’t have to do very much at all.”
“Besides not falling off, you mean.”
“Yes, that would be most helpful.” Bryn studied Anna carefully for a moment, trying to get a read on whether she was genuinely worried about falling, or if she was just making playful conversation. “Would you like a helmet? I do have a few in the tack room for when I’m working with the horses in the ring, but I don’t usually wear one if I’m just taking a ride around the property…”
“No.” Anna shook her head and smiled. “I’ll be good. Just don’t get too crazy.”
“I shall try my best,” Bryn promised as she turned toward her horse. Once she was seated, she nudged Morgana toward Anna and Figment. She stopped beside Anna and smiled. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Excellent.” Bryn tapped her heels against Morgana’s sides and watched Anna carefully as she did the same. “Nicely done, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”
Anna grinned as Figment fell into step beside Morgana. “Thanks.”
Twelve
Once Bryn was assured that Anna was comfortable in the saddle, she relaxed and let the quiet clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the service road fill the silence between them. Anna did not seem to mind the quiet, judging by the easy smile that pulled at the corners of her lips every time Bryn glanced over at her, and she was grateful for the opportunity to just be. To let the sound of the wind running through the leaves calm her thoughts, to let the gentle roll of Morgana’s gait ease the tension that had settled along her spine.