Risking the Vine (Romancing the Vine Book 1)

by Gemma Brocato

  “I had a trust fund from some, er, investments made on my behalf when I was younger. My folks are successful and shared the wealth with their only daughter.” A shadow flitted over Jules’ face, but was gone in the blink of an eye. “That’s not important. It’s what I chose to do with the money once I turned twenty-five that’s significant. I started investing in start-up companies in the area. Kept it low key, more word of mouth. Most people don’t know about this part of my corporation, which is the way I want it.”

  “Jules, really, it’s great that you are able to do this for businesses here. But where are you going with this story?”

  Jules pulled a folded slip of paper from her back pocket. She toyed with the edges before pinning Jac with an earnest look. “I want to invest in your spice farm.”

  Jac dropped her gaze to the scrap of paper as Jules unfolded it. Her eyes shot back to Jules’ face. “What? Why—”

  “Because I can. Your ideas for the farm work perfectly into the plans of another of my investments. A lovely woman who runs a small Italian deli in Santa Rosa is branching out to retail spices.” She gestured to the spice grinder she’d placed on the table between them. “She’s looking for new sources of product, and wants to work with a small business that incorporates sustainable farming practices. Marcus and I have helped her establish a great distribution network in Southern California, and demand is high. Only going to go higher based on her projections. But she can’t get there without businesses like yours. And your crops won’t be available if you don’t pay off the tax bill.”

  “Hang on . . . You want to give me money to pay the taxes so I can become a supplier for your other investment?”

  “No. I’m not giving you anything. I’m investing in what I can tell will be a sure bet. Gourmet spices are kind of the rage now. Have you ever wandered through the herb and spice section of an upscale grocery store? People are eating them up. Your venture is destined to succeed.” Jules folded her hand in her lap. “Especially if the connection between you and Sophia takes. You have a built-in customer, she has a ready supplier, and I have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve helped two people realize their dreams.”

  Hope for her future rose. Jac squashed it. “Jules, I can’t ask you for fifty grand.”

  “First, you didn’t ask, I offered. It’s good business. If it helps, you can consider it an investment from which I hope to earn some interest. And second, it isn’t fifty grand.” She glanced at the check, a satisfied smile on her face. She flipped the paper in her fingers, offering it to Jac.

  The check had a fifty on it, but a two preceded it.

  Moisture collected in the corners of her eyes. Jac blinked hard. “Jules, this is far more than the amount I need for the taxes.”

  “The funds aren’t necessarily earmarked for taxes. If you choose to pay that bill with this, it’s up to you. I still think your cousin should pony up at least the amount of the tax itself, if not extra for the penalties and fees. However, her obligation is a family matter. Your call. My investment will give you a cushion, so if you don’t sell your condo right away, you’ll still be all right.”

  Jac swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t deserve this.”

  The snort ripping from Jules’ mouth caused her to press a hand against her lips, her eyes wide. “Bullshit. In just three days, I’ve already seen a stronger work ethic and drive to succeed than most people display in three months. You earned that money. I have a standard contract I’ll require you to sign. I only ask for a half percent of any profits, which I’m sure you realize in agriculture, won’t amount to much.”

  She nodded toward the check in Jac’s hand. “And the term of the contract is only eighteen months. After that, you can renew for another infusion of cash to expand if you want. If not, we both walk away from the deal with whatever we’ve earned on it.” Jules lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I have to say, I hope you’ll renew. But even if you don’t, I think we’ll continue to be friends.”

  Admiration and affection for the woman flooded Jac with a warm, happy burst of light. “I can’t believe how generous you are. Oh, my God. I wish I’d met you when we were younger. I want to be you when I grow up.”

  The corners of Jules’ eyes creased as laughter trilled from her. “Maybe the “me” I am now. You would have run screaming away from me as a teen. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “Oh, fiddle. Everyone was cringe-worthy as teens. Your parents must be so proud of the successful woman you’ve become.”

  Jules made a non-committal sound at the back of her throat.

  Dammit, I said the wrong thing.

  Another dark shadow flickered in Jules’ eyes before she dropped her gaze. She grabbed the wine bottle setting by her feet and added more to both their glasses. Clearly, Jac had steered them into murky waters with her comment.

  Before she could say anything even remotely apologetic, Jules straightened her shoulders, as if shaking off any bad thoughts.

  She lifted her wine stem to clink against the goblet in Jac’s hand. The setting sun sparkled on the rim of both glasses. “Here’s to a great partnership. Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” Jac took a sip, relishing the buttery taste of the wine. “To our success.”

  The screen door creaked again as Marcus stepped out of the house. “You about ready? We have to be in town in thirty minutes.”

  Jules drained the last of her glass, unfolded her long body from the chair, and offered Jac a hand. “Come on. Marcus is going to drive us into Santa Rosa. We’re eating with Sophia at her deli. I’m eager to introduce you to her. Marcus will be joining us for dinner. I hope that’s okay. He’s a silent partner in the deli and agrees this is a great opportunity for everyone.”

  Jac took Jules’ hand and let the woman pull her to her feet. She liked the idea of Marcus being another partner. Glancing down at her jeans and sweatshirt, she asked, “Do I need to change?”

  “Nope. We’re fine just as we are, paint splatters and all. We’ll leave in five minutes.”

  Jules wrapped her arms around Jac’s shoulders in a spontaneous gesture. The display of friendship touched Jac’s heart. She returned the hug, patting Jules’ back.

  As soon as Jules released her, Marcus stepped forward. “My turn.” Sliding his large arms around her, he squeezed gingerly. “It’s going to be awesome being in a partnership with you. I hope this means we’ll get to see more of you.”

  Jac stepped out of his arms and tapped his broad shoulder with her fist. “Just let me know when it’s safe to go another round with a paint brush in the cask room. I’ll be there.”

  “Go on, girl. You made a mess in there last time. No way will I let you anywhere near there again. Had to deal with—what’d you call him, FIG?—in the aftermath.” Laughter rumbling, Marcus gave a mock shudder. “But any time you want to come back and teach the teams how to make fine art with corks, you stop on by. I know we can use your skills. Plus, any artwork you create will automatically go on display at the gallery in town.”

  Jules piped up, “It’s one of our investments as well. The first one, actually. Now Denise is the toast of the northern California art scene. Ah, the sweet smell of success. Marcus, I think in the future, success is going to be scented with basil and rosemary.”

  “And don’t forget, thyme and parsley,” Jac quipped as she followed Jules through the screen door. “Got to say, I feel a song coming on.”

  Marcus started humming ‘Scarborough Fair.’

  Jac’s future, slightly dim and tarnished only an hour ago, was suddenly shiny and bright again.

  The rolling chair scooted a bit and groaned as Luke threw himself into it. After eight hours at the negotiating table and another eight on the medical floor, Luke’s moan overrode the sound the chair emitted. His legs ached from walking up and down the ward during the night, assisting the skeleton
staff of nurses and the few aides who crossed the imaginary picket line created by the nurses’ sick-out.

  Maybe, if Brian helped on the floor, the jerk would be more sympathetic to the nursing staff’s demands. As it was, they were headed in the wrong direction. Brian had reintroduced a previously negotiated demand as a bargaining tool in the last session. Instead of settling this thing, he’d dug the hole deeper.

  A pit Luke couldn’t fathom finding his way out of. He slumped over the counter-height desk and pulled a keyboard toward him to enter the last thing he’d done for a patient. His eyes were so bleary from sixteen plus hours in the fluorescent lighting of the hospital, it took him a second to focus on the right computer screen. A couple of keystrokes and one huge yawn later, he navigated his way into the patient record and added the note.

  Footsteps, accompanied by the whine of rubber wheels, squeaked on the highly polished linoleum floor. Luke craned his neck over the desk to see a new patient arriving from the emergency room. Bella Robins was at the head of the gurney, guiding it toward him.

  Luke’s back twinged as he shoved out of his chair. “Hey, Bella. They recruited you to help too?”

  Her smile was grim. “We were told it was all management hands on deck until the sick-out is settled. Didn’t realize until they pointed at me I was considered management.” Her gaze scanned him quickly. “Whoa! You’re still in the same clothes I saw you in this morning. Have you been home yet?”

  “Nope.” Luke unhooked the patient’s chart from the holder at the foot of the transport bed. He scanned the moaning man’s name and compared it to the record in the computer. “He’s in four-three-oh-five. I’ll help you move him down. What about you? Get any rest yet today?”

  “I had a couple hours off at the end of my regular shift. I signed up for eleven to seven since I can sleep late tomorrow. Can you hurry up and fix this?” Bella dug in her feet and grunted as she pushed the gurney forward.

  Luke grabbed the side rail to help, jostling the patient. The man groaned again and Bella expertly stuck a basin under his chin and gently maneuvered his head to the side. All without breaking their forward momentum.

  With his stomach rolling queasily, Luke focused his attention on the last door on the left side of the hallway. If he could guide the cart without seeing the man spewing the contents of his stomach, he’d be okay. “I’m doing the best I can. For what it’s worth, I’m on the nurses’ side.” He wanted to explain to Bella he had a way to settle the dispute in the next ten minutes, if only Brian would listen to reason. But he didn’t want to be disloyal or act sketchy.

  “Bet you’re wishing you’d stayed in Florida.” Bella’s tennis shoes screeched as she tried to slow the bed so they could navigate the over-wide door to the patient room. Why hadn’t he thought to bring tennis shoes to change into? His feet might not ache so much.

  “I like it here. I think the opportunity is good, but it does rain a lot.” Luke opted to omit his career with St. Simeon’s could be numbered in months, or weeks. “Hey, about your friend, Jacqui. We were teammates at the camp.”

  Bella tossed him an assessing glance. “Yeah, she told me. Right before she canceled our dinner plans for tomorrow night. So, you guys have a date?”

  He should feel bad that Jac had called off an evening with her friend for his sake. He didn’t. His heart accelerated at the knowledge he’d be with Jac in eighteen hours, if everything went well at the bargaining table. Luke pulled the foot of the bed through the door and wheeled it around to slide into place against the wall. “We do. Wish I’d gotten to know her better when we first met. I like her. She’s great.”

  “She is. But she’s going through some shit with her cousin right now. I don’t know where Jac’s going to get the funds to pay off the farm’s tax bill with the county.”

  Luke’s shoulder wrenched as his feet stopped but the bed didn’t. “What are you talking about?”

  “Her cousin, Rowena, neglected to pay the taxes on the farm.”

  Luke clenched his jaw until the muscle popped. Why hadn’t Jac told him? Granted, they barely knew each other. Well, other than a really glorious couple of exchanges of bodily fluids. Since he’d left Team Vino, he’d only whined about the contract talks, bitching about how much he missed her. Maybe that was why. Jac didn’t want to bother him with it. Or maybe she didn’t feel inclined to share private information with a guy she was just fucking until it was time to move away. The idea soured his gut. “No, she didn’t.”

  Bella glanced at him, eyebrows raised at his sharp tone. “I know she really likes you, but this is money we’re talking about. Plus the labor talks have kept you a little busy.”

  “Not too busy to help if she needs it. I’d give her the money. She should know that.”

  “Really? You’ve got fifty thousand dollars just taking up space in your bank account?”

  “Fifty grand? How big is this farm?” Jac had led him to believe it was fairly small.

  “Scatterbrained Rowena didn’t pay the bill for three years. Even though the taxes aren’t high, the fees and penalties have really added up.” Bella twitched the scratchy sheet and pale green blanket higher on the bedridden man’s chest.

  Luke battled the urge to race from the room, grab his phone, and call her. “Oh, hell, she must be devastated.”

  “Jac wouldn’t take your money anyway, even if you did just happen to have a chunk of spare cash lying around. She’s pretty independent and wants to do this her way. She’ll work it out. She’s smart and methodical. Once she sinks her teeth into the farm life, she’ll succeed. She isn’t really good at failing.”

  “Just one more reason to love her,” Luke said as he escorted Bella from the room.

  Then he slapped a palm against the doorjamb, screeching to a halt.

  Bella turned, a curious smile lurking on her lips. “Love her?”

  Wonder replaced every other emotion weaving around his chest. “I . . . yeah. I think I mean it the way you took it.”

  He loved her. Her gorgeous body, her spirit, but most importantly he loved her brilliant, sexy mind. The confidence she displayed never seemed to end. The quiet manner she’d used to soothe him when he’d whined about his boss, the labor dispute, and the shitty hours he’d had to work. This morning, Jac had taken it all in, put a positive spin on it, and then rocked his world with her playful, adventurous spirit.

  Bella gave him a knowing look and tapped her fist to his bicep. “I’ll never tell her you told me first. Best thing I ever did was introducing you two at happy hour. Took you guys long enough to discover it. For the record, I think it’s freaking awesome that you two found each other. With any luck, you’ll continue building a team for the next fifty years.”

  Fifty years of Jac? Hell yeah, he’d take that. Suddenly, the fatigue of double and even triple shifts at the medical center disappeared in a blaze of brightness. His step lightened as he walked with Bella down the hall.

  A glance at the clock over the nurses’ desk told him he only had twelve hours to wait until Jac returned to Medford. If he managed to stifle Brian’s contentious attitude toward the nursing staff’s demands, it would be only another six after that before he could race to her condo, hold her in his arms, and kiss the ever-loving daylights out of her.

  The agonizing wait would be worth it. Especially if Jac returned his feelings.

  Chapter 18

  Saturday dawned cool and cloudy in northern California, perfect jeans and sweatshirt weather. During a leisurely breakfast with Jules and Marcus in the kitchen at the big house, Jules presented Jac with a standardized contract. The straightforward document definitely favored Jac.

  “Jules, eighteen months isn’t long enough to come anywhere near to repaying the investment,” Jac pointed out over coffee. “I won’t even plant a new crop for six months.”

  Jules insis
ted she considered it fair. “Actually, I’ve found it more than sufficient. Most of the businesses I’ve invested in hit their stride within a year. I think the owners work harder to repay my investment because they appreciate my trust.”

  “But have you ever funded an agricultural operation? The variables are pretty uncertain. I can’t control weather and pestilence.”

  “Well, no. But I do own a farm of my own.” Jules swept her hand toward the view of the vineyard from the kitchen windows. “I’m not worried. I think you’ll do great. Did you already schedule an appointment with the county Ag extension service?”

  She’d made the call this morning, figuring the man would be at his desk and accessible to farmers who dropped by on a weekend. “I’m driving up next Friday to sit down with the farm specialist. He remembered my granddad. He seemed very encouraging when I explained why I wanted to speak to him.”

  Jac patted the front pocket of her jeans, where Jules’ check resided. “I’m also going to run a payment to the Assessor’s office. Getting the bill paid is the first priority.”

  The grin on Marcus’ face was blinding. “You’ve certainly got all your ducks lined up. But just remember, should you change your mind, or not be able to get the farm off the ground, there was an escape clause in the contract.”

  Jac had noted that item. It allowed an additional eighteen months to repay the investment with a minuscule one percent interest fee in the event things went south. “I’m not going to change my mind, but that clause is a very comfortable safety net.”

  Marcus rapped his knuckles on the table. “Are your bags packed? I’ll bring them down and stow them in your trunk.”

  “Everything is good to go. Thanks,” Jac said as she handed him the key to her room. She could get used to this type of service.