Risking the Vine (Romancing the Vine Book 1)

by Gemma Brocato

Jac imagined the belligerent glower on her friend’s face. A warm glow of affection suffused her. “And I love you for that, Bella. But the only way you’d be allowed to help is with redecorating the farmhouse once I move in.” Bella had exquisite taste and had helped Jac decorate her condo when she’d first bought it.

  “Paint, carpentry, moving furniture. Whatever you need, Jackay!”

  Her friend’s use of the pet name she’d dubbed her with made Jac’s smile even bigger. “Yeah, well, Belleesima, speaking of painting, I’m supposed to help Jules paint this afternoon, so I’d better get going. I can’t wait to introduce you two. I know you’ll hit it off. Maybe you and I will come back here in the spring for a girls’ weekend.”

  After disconnecting their chat with assurances she’d call if plans with Luke fell through tomorrow, Jac changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, wiggling her toes into a pair of flip-flops until they fit comfortably. Light-hearted for the first time since she received Ro’s email, she made her way to Jules’ charming little cottage.

  After the second hour of rolling paint onto the stucco wall in Jules’ living room, Jac’s arm and shoulders ached. The cottage was small, with two bedrooms off an open-concept main area. There were clear sight lines from the kitchen and dining room into the cozy living room. At the moment, all the furniture had been pushed to the center of the room and covered in clear plastic drop-cloths. From the sound dock on the kitchen counter, Mumford and Sons encouraged them with lyrics about a little lion man.

  Jules had picked a rich cinnamon color for one wall. Too bad the paint wasn’t going on smoothly.

  Jac set her roller in the drip pan. After arching her back, she rolled her shoulders to ease some of the strain building at the base of her neck.

  Next to her, Jules tilted her head and worked her jaw back and forth. “Man, I’m stiff.” She eyed the wall. “Don’t know what I was thinking to choose this dark of a color. Must have been out of my mind.” She laid her brush across the top of the paint can.

  “It’s a lovely color. Priming the walls first would have helped. Especially since it’s so vibrant. Every little imperfection will show.” Jac stepped back and scanned their work. It was streaked, but not horribly. “Um, we’re going to need another coat.”

  Jules jammed paint-splattered hands on her hips. “I think we need an ice cream break now.”

  Wiping her fingers on a damp rag, Jac nodded vigorously. “I’m game.”

  Jules swept into the kitchen, and after scrubbing off most of the traces of reddish-brown paint, she pulled two colorful bowls from the glass-fronted cabinets over the quartz counters. Jac washed her hands in the black, farmhouse sink. A cool breeze bathed her back when Jules retrieved the tub of ice cream from the stainless steel freezer compartment.

  Jac’s mouth watered as Jules scooped generous portions of frozen vanilla riddled with ribbons of chocolate and caramel and chunks of peanut butter and dark chocolate.

  Jules added a spoon to one bowl and pushed it across the counter. “So, you want to tell me what’s going on? You barely said five sentences in the past two hours. If I knew you better, I’d say you were brooding.”

  “Hmmm.” Jac let a spoonful of the delicious treat melt on her tongue before answering. “Brooding is pretty close to right.”

  “Is it Luke?” Jules mashed her spoon into her bowl and stirred. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but you guys seem, I don’t know, kind of close.”

  “Not Luke. We’re fine. I’m seeing him tomorrow night, back in Medford.”

  “Oh, good. You’re perfect for each other.”

  Jac laughed. “Matchmaker and team builder? Pretty impressive résumé.”

  “It doesn’t take a matchmaker to realize Luke’s over the moon for you. I saw the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you at dinner the other night.” Jules licked caramel off the back of her spoon. “Like you were a delicacy he wanted to sample.”

  He had done some licking before the dinner Jules was talking about. Heat climbed Jac’s cheeks. “Um, making me a bit uncomfortable here. I think I’d rather talk about finance or politics than whether Luke Rossi wants to lick me.”

  “Okay, but I bet he can do great things with his tongue.” Even white teeth peeked out of Jules’ wide, teasing grin. The grin faded to a more serious look. She lowered her brow. “If you aren’t going to talk about Luscious Luke, tell me what’s bugging you.”

  Surprised laughter ripped from Jac’s mouth. “Oh, my God. My friend Bella calls him Luscious Luke. Apparently, all the ladies hospital call him that.”

  “Aw, dang. No points for originality.” Jules smiled as she vigorously swirled her spoon in the bowl, turning her ice cream into frosty soup. “So for real, what’s got your panties in a twist?”

  “I spoke to my cousin yesterday. She’s living at the farm, pretty much rent-free. All she had to do was pay the taxman. Seems she forgot. For three years.”

  Jules’ spoon clinked against the ceramic bowl. “What the hell? How do you forget for three years? I can’t believe someone didn’t call her on it before. Like maybe someone with the county. Don’t they send bills or something? My county does.”

  Jac tried to downplay her cousin’s stupidity. “Apparently, she’s ignored the reminders. So now, with the original bill and late fees and penalties, I have to come up with fifty grand soon, or the property will be sold at auction.”

  “Oh, no!” Jules resumed stirring the contents of her bowl. “How horrible. How long do you have? What are you going to do?”

  Crossing her legs under the counter, Jac squirmed on the stool and shrugged. “Ask my parents to lend me some money. Apply to the Small Business Administration for a loan. Sell my condo in Medford. Great options, if I can work it all out. Still, they’ll barely cause a ripple in this particular sea of debt.” Her dream of running the farm grew dimmer as she rattled off her options.

  She carefully set her spoon into the bowl, the chocolate and peanut butter ribbons of her dessert suddenly turning to cold defeat in her mouth. “I could try to find a partner, or get contracts with some spice company who will agree to advance me the funds in exchange for the crops I grow. But I doubt any corporation would be willing take a chance on a newbie operation. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

  Jules patted the back of Jac’s hand. Then she reached into a drawer and retrieved a wine opener. Scooting over to the wine chiller by the sink, she dug through the bottles resting there, finally pulling out a dark green bottle.

  She held it aloft. “One of our best whites. Unoaked chardonnay. You can do the honors.” She set the bottle and opener down in front of Jac with a thunk. From one of the glass-fronted cabinets, she pulled out two supersized wine glasses. “We’re knocking off for the day. I know it’s only three, but if ever there was a time for wine, now would be it.”

  “What about cleaning up?” Jac gestured to the mess in the living room. “We should take care of that first.”

  “Do you ever get sick of being the responsible one?” Jules teased, her tone filled with fun. Rooting under the sink, she snagged a roll of black plastic trash bags. “A little trick I learned from the painter who redid the dining room at the big house. Go ahead, pour the wine. I’ll take care of putting this other shit away.”

  She pulled two bags off the roll and snapped one open, tucking the other under her arm as she strode to where they’d left the paint trays. Jac poured a good measure of wine into the goblets Jules had furnished, while her new friend maneuvered the still loaded tray inside the trash bag. After squeezing out extra air, she efficiently knotted the bag closed.

  Jac took her first sip of the really excellent wine, watching as Jules slipped the other tray, complete with the roller, into another bag.

  Jules upended the contents of another small plastic bag. Brushes, stirrers, a pack of sandpaper, and an extra rol
l of clear plastic drop cloths scattered over the floor at her feet. She collected the brush she’d been using and wrapped it tightly in a Home Depot bag.

  Parcel and covered paint trays stacked neatly, she tapped the lid back on the opened paint can, righted herself, and dusted her hands together. “Done. Easy, easy clean up.”

  “I’ve never seen it done that way before,” Jac marveled. “But I’ll remember the Jules method next time I have to paint. With any luck, it will be the kitchen in the farmhouse. It was covered with dingy, dirty yellow paper last time I was there.”

  Jules joined her at the counter. She picked up the second goblet and saluted before taking a large gulp. “If you’re really nice, maybe I’ll come for a weekend and help you. It’s only fair, right?”

  “You’re on.” Jac knew the grin on her face was dopey. She couldn’t help it. It would be good to have Jules on her team again. Jac rinsed the ice cream bowls in the sink, and laid them in the dish drainer.

  Bottle in one hand, her wine stem in the other, Jules jerked her head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go sit on the porch at the big house and savor this really good vintage. Right now is the best time to relax there. The light is just perfect in early fall.”

  “You don’t have to ask twice.”

  Jac followed Jules to the golf cart they’d left parked in front of the cottage.

  Marcus came out to the porch as they walked up the crushed shell path to the house, laughing like drunken schoolgirls. “Weren’t you ladies supposed to be painting?”

  Jules threaded her arm through Jac’s as they climbed the steps. “Painting is for people who don’t have wine to drink.”

  When Marcus smiled, his face crinkled like ripped open wrapping paper. He looked pointedly at the high-tech black watch on his left wrist. “Isn’t it a little early in the day for what appears is going to be copious amounts of wine swilling?”

  They hit the top step and Jules stretched up to pat the man’s cheek. “Marcus, Marcus, Marcus. Don’t be a buzzkill. This is still our first glass. We’ve only just begun.”

  He lifted one brow and tipped his head, the gesture silently screaming oh, really.

  Jules’ lighthearted laughter echoed off the bead-board ceiling of the porch. Jac set her mostly-full glass and her cell phone on a table nestled between two cushioned Adirondack chairs. Perched on the porch railing, she watched Jules, so warm and easygoing, interact with her assistant manager. Hell, she’d even treated Belinda with cool dignity and professionalism. Jac had battled the constant urge to salute the lawyer with her middle finger.

  A text alert sounded on Jac’s phone, the crystal tone pinging prettily. Pushing from the railing, she dropped onto one of the chairs to consult the display, uttering a silent prayer it would be Luke.

  Ah, prayers were answered occasionally. She dragged her finger across the screen and accessed the message.

  Do you need a hired hand on the farm? Boss being a douche and nurses’ rep isn’t buying it. Quiet life in country looks very attractive right now. Especially if you’re there.

  A part of Jac was sorry that Luke wasn’t having a good day. But the section ruled by her heart and the hidden place between her legs throbbed at the idea of a rural lifestyle with Luke. Plus, having him in Eugene would solve the problems associated with a long-distance relationship, including a chance to stray.

  She smiled as she replied. Always room for someone with mad Excel spreadsheet skills. And his mad skills in bed didn’t hurt either.

  She sent another text to Luke. Negotiations not going well?

  While Jac waited for a reply, Jules grasped Marcus’ arm and dragged the beefy man to the other side of the porch. He bent to hear as she whispered fiercely into his ear.

  A wren in a nearby tree trilled its sweet song. Jac sipped her wine, her glass gleaming as it caught the mid-afternoon sun. She leaned against the back cushion of the comfortable chair and closed her eyes.

  As she let her mind drift back to their conversation . . . their adventure in phone sex this morning . . . heat bloomed over her skin from chest to hairline. Imagining his hands on her body was good, but not nearly as good as the real thing. Her breasts tingled with the memory of his hands and lips on them. She covered her eyes with her free hand and breathed slowly, deeply . . . pretending that each time her chest rose, his hand cupped the soft flesh there. Thank heavens for her excellent imagination.

  Her phone chirped, pulling her back to the present. Nope. Done for the day. Heading to the med floor to help. Back to the table @ 9 tomorrow. Wish me luck.

  She typed in a reply.

  Good luck. Love you.

  Her finger poised over the ‘send’ button, she hesitated. Love you? It had felt completely natural as she’d typed it. But the words hit her in the diaphragm, shortening her breath as she’d scanned for typos before sending. How had she meant the phrase? The way she’d sign off on a text to Bella? Hadn’t she just told her friend she loved her on the phone? It would be easy enough to say it to Jules, like she’d talk to a good girlfriend. If she said it to Luke, was there deeper meaning in those two little words?

  She’d only known him for a short time. She couldn’t count the five minutes at the bar where she’d originally met him. Had she already lost her heart to him? With such uncertainty in her future, she wasn’t sure she could follow through on the relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. He’d just started his job at the medical center. She was ending her employment to go in search of something that made her happy. Happier than her current job situation.

  What if staying in the same town at the same dead-end job—there, she’d finally admitted it—with Luke made her just as happy as the idea of living on the farm? Was it possible?

  The spring on the screen door twanged as Jules and Marcus disappeared into the house, the sound reminding her of summers on Gramps’ farm, and of opportunity.

  Jac’s impending move to Eugene felt right, set within the month, if she could get the stupid tax bill paid. On one hand, the dilemma of where she’d find the cash seemed dire. It was a hell of a lot of money. On the other hand, the months it would take to scrape the funds together could extend her life in Medford with Luke. With enough time, maybe those words, love you, could come to be true in their meaning.

  With a sigh, she backspaced over the last seven letters. Replaced them with looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night. Doesn’t matter what time. I’ll be home. She chewed on her bottom lip as she pressed ‘send.’ Maybe, at some point in the future, she’d be more comfortable with her original response.

  She stared at the small display, but no reply came. Noting the time, Jac opted to believe he’d already pocketed his phone and headed to the nurses’ station to report for bedpan duty.

  Cool breeze kissing her skin, she sat on the porch, sipping her wine, musing about her future, and waiting for Jules to return. The narrow leaves in the olive tree to the left of the path rustled soothing, natural music, competing with the birdsong emanating from the branches. The peace of the moment called to something deep inside her, taunting and tempting with a promise of a great future.

  Hopefully, one where she and Luke worked out.

  Chapter 17

  The screen door banged against the wall, startling Jac from her reverie. Wine glass in hand, Jules dropped onto the chair nearest the table. She set down a spice grinder and sank back against the cushions. A glow lit her pretty blue eyes, the breeze gently stirring wisps of her hair around her face. Jules’ grin widened as she stared at Jac. She nodded once, surveying the vineyard.

  Curiosity got the better of Jac. “What?”

  Jules stared out over her property. “I didn’t know anything about winemaking. I’m the proud owner of a Communications degree from the University of Northern California in Santa Rosa. This area called to something inside
me. When it was time to move back to L.A., I couldn’t do it.” She scanned the hills on display before them and released a contented sigh. “I took a job with a small local produce co-op which enabled me to stay here. This property came on the market and I borrowed money. I bought a vineyard.”

  When she fell silent, Jac prompted her. “Nice story. And you’re telling me . . . why?”

  “I’m getting to it.” Jules dragged her eyes from the scenery and focused on Jac. Before she spoke, she took a deep sip from her glass. “God, I love this wine.”

  Jac lifted her glass in salute. She took a sip, but remained silent, content to wait for Jules to continue her story.

  “I received a lot of help and guidance from other vineyard owners in the area. The first year I didn’t do anything but study and learn, and pick people’s brains. It’s a tightly knit community and I couldn’t get over how generous the other owners were with their time and assistance.” Jules tucked one foot under her thigh and wiggled around in her chair to face Jac. “I also wrote a couple of business plans. One was for this team building camp. Launched this venture the second year. I’m pleased to say it’s a raging success. People come from all over the country to attend.”

  “Well, I came from Oregon.” Jac grinned. “And I’m glad I did.”

  “Me too.” Jules shook her head, as if clearing away any gooey emotion. She scratched a finger on the arm of her chair. “I promised myself I’d repay the favors I’d received to get my business off the ground. The second plan I wrote was for a charitable foundation aimed at other small businesses requiring the same kind of help I’d gotten.”

  Not completely sure of where Jules was heading, Jac tilted her head quizzically. “I don’t understand. Don’t you have to have a lot of money to open what essentially amounts to a venture capital firm?”