Feels Like Home

by Beth Andrews

  “Aidan, I didn’t mean—”

  “Why don’t you wait for me out back?” he asked, already walking past her. “I’ll let Mom know the girls are outside.”

  Before Yvonne could answer, he was gone.

  She stepped toward the door, only to spin around and grab a cookie still warm from the oven. She ate it in two bites, not caring about crumbs on the floor or that at any moment someone could walk in and catch her in the act. Blushing with guilt and a whole lot of delight, she brushed her hands together and walked outside.

  Payton picked up a grimy tennis ball from the brick floor and waved it in the air. “Watch this.” This was a wobbly throw that arced high in the air before landing with a dull thud in the grass a few hundred feet away. “Okay, Lily. Fetch!”

  The dog took off, her dark fur flying, her ears back. She approached the ball at a dead run, only to skid past it before getting her body turned back around, and nipping it from the ground.

  “Good girl,” Payton said, clapping her hands, her pink jacket unzipped, her dark hair messy—though not quite on a par with her mother’s spikes. Lily sat in front of Payton. “Drop it.”

  The dog dropped the ball at the little girl’s feet.

  “Very impressive,” Yvonne said, while Payton gave Lily’s head an affection rub.

  She handed the ball to Yvonne. “You try.”

  “Oh, I don’t know…” She glanced behind her, but there was no sign of Aidan. She eyed the ball warily. She so did not want to touch that thing. Not only had most of the fuzz been chewed off, but it was filthy with mud and shiny with dog drool.

  Then she saw the challenge in the girl’s eyes. Wow. Payton was like her mother in more ways than Yvonne had realized. Poor thing.

  “Thank you,” she said, using the very tips of her thumb and forefinger to take the ball. “I’d love to give it a try.”

  Her throw was even worse than Payton’s, and went only half the distance. Lily didn’t move.

  “I guess she doesn’t want to play,” Yvonne said, oddly disappointed that an animal had shunned her.

  Payton rolled her eyes. “You have to tell her to get it.”

  “Right. Sorry.” She looked down at the dog. “Fetch.”

  Lily took off, got the ball and brought it back. She dropped it at Yvonne’s feet.

  “Now you pet her and tell her she’s a good dog,” Payton instructed.

  Yvonne recoiled slightly, but Lily stared up at her. She didn’t look dangerous, or as if she had any intention of sinking those sharp teeth into any part of Yvonne’s body, so she slowly reached out. Lily lifted her head, brushing her nose against Yvonne’s fingers.

  It was cold. Damp. But she kept on, finally touching the top of the dog’s head, her hand unsteady. “Good girl,” she said, stroking the surprisingly soft fur.

  She heard the door open behind her. “Still have all your fingers?” Aidan asked.

  Smiling, petting Lily, Yvonne looked up at him. “So far so good.”

  Straightening, she noticed Abby standing by the table and chairs, her coat open, her thumb in her mouth.

  “Do you want to throw the ball?” she asked the girl. Abby shook her head.

  Payton strode over and forced her sister’s arm down. “Keep your thumb out of your mouth,” she said, sounding so much like Connie that Yvonne shuddered. “Everyone’s going to think you’re a baby.”

  Two spots of red appeared on Abby’s round cheeks. But as soon as Payton turned back to play with Lily, Abby put the thumb right back where it had been.

  Atta girl.

  “Come on,” Aidan said. “Let’s get you to the cottage so you can change—”

  “I have flats with me.” After she’d had to wear Connie’s sneakers in the vineyard, Yvonne had begun carrying a pair of ballet flats in her bag. “I just need two minutes to change.”

  He looked at her as if the idea of carrying an extra pair of shoes was some new, shocking development. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

  “You didn’t ask,” she said without thinking. But then the words hung between them.

  There’s one question you’ve never asked. Why I left.

  “If you’d put on the proper shoes in the morning,” he said in a tone she couldn’t read, “you wouldn’t have to haul around such a big bag.”

  “Thank you so much for that fashion advice.”

  “Anytime.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Just don’t ask me what I think about how you look in those pants.”

  She gaped at him.

  “Aidan!” Payton called, “Lily won’t give me the ball.”

  Aidan walked into the yard, whistling for his dog.

  Reeling from the husky timbre of his voice, the heat in his eyes, Yvonne sat down hard, grinding her teeth together. She glanced at Abby, who hadn’t moved. “I don’t suppose you know what that was all about?”

  The little girl didn’t answer. She stared at Yvonne with eyes as deep blue as her mother’s. But much less hostile, thank goodness. Yvonne switched shoes, then carefully wrapped her espadrilles in a plastic bag and put them in her shoulder bag. The wind picked up, blowing a dead leaf across the bricks. Abby shivered.

  “May I zip your coat?” Yvonne asked, crouching in front of the child. There was no answer. No response whatsoever except for the fluttering of Abby’s lashes. Yvonne took that as a yes and pulled the zipper up. “There. Is that better?”

  And, miracle of miracles, she nodded.

  “Abby!” Payton yelled. “Thumb!”

  Abby’s face fell as she slowly lowered her hand and curled her thumb into her palm.

  “You ready?” Aidan asked as he came up behind Yvonne.

  She was too busy digging through her bag to glance up at him. “Almost,” she said absently, pulling out a tube of lipstick.

  “Do you always have to hide behind all that makeup?” Aidan asked, so harshly that her gaze flew up to meet his. He looked disappointed. Disappointed in her.

  “A woman should always present herself in her best light.” As she quoted one of her mother’s favorite sayings, Yvonne took the cap off the lipstick and opened her compact.

  “Besides,” she continued, slicking the color over her bottom lip, making sure Abby had a clear view of what she was doing, “this is the real me.” It was all she knew how to be. She held his gaze for one long moment. “Isn’t this who you wanted in the first place?” she asked softly.

  Before he could deny it, she deliberately turned her back to him. “Would you like me to put some lipstick on you?” she asked Abby.

  “She’s seven,” Aidan said. “She’s too young for makeup.”

  Yvonne kept her attention on Abby’s face, knew she had the girl’s rapt attention. “It’s just for fun.”

  Finally, Abby nodded and stepped closer.

  “Go like this…” She opened her mouth. Abby did the same and Yvonne carefully applied the color. “Okay, now press your lips together. Good. Take a look.” She held up her compact so Abby could inspect herself. The girl grinned, her entire face lighting up. “There are two very important things to remember about wearing lipstick,” Yvonne began.

  “You’re kidding,” Aidan said flatly.

  “The first,” she continued, “is to make sure when you apply it, it goes only on your lips—sort of like not coloring outside the lines. The second is even more important. Once you’ve put all that work into getting your lipstick perfect, you have to be very careful not to do anything that could smudge it, like blowing a bubble with your gum or eating an ice cream cone or…sucking your thumb.”

  “I won’t,” Abby said in a sweet voice. She shook her head, her eyes huge. “Not while the lipstick’s on.”

  Aidan laughed and laid his hand on the little girl’s head. “You are just like your mother. Always looking for ways to cover your butt.”

  She smiled up at him and Yvonne’s heart lodged in her throat at the sight of the easy affection between them. How…right Aidan l
ooked. How easy it was to imagine him with a child of his own. He’d always wanted children. Maybe with Marlene he could have the future he’d always dreamed of. The big house filled with kids and dogs and a wife who was all the things he needed her to be.

  Yvonne viciously tossed the compact and lipstick back into her bag.

  “Thank you,” Abby said.

  “You’re very welcome,” Yvonne assured her, mimicking her sober tone. Then, as the girl ran off to join her sister, Yvonne turned to Aidan and faked a bright smile. “Well, now, how about that tour?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “SHALL I DRIVE MY CAR and meet you at the winery?” Yvonne asked as they walked away from the girls and Lily.

  “We’re not going to the winery. At least, not first,” Aidan said as they rounded the corner of the garage. He’d parked the company’s latest investment in the driveway: a cross between a four-wheeled all-terrain vehicle, a dune buggy and a tractor. “And I already have transportation for us.”

  She glanced from him to the sport utility vehicle to him again. “You can’t be serious,” she said in that superior way that made him want to throw something. Or yank her against him and kiss her until they were both senseless.

  “It’s perfectly safe. You’d ride in a golf cart, wouldn’t you?”

  “Golf carts don’t have tires that look like they should be on one of those…creature trucks.”

  “Creature…” He smiled. “Do you mean monster trucks?”

  “Whichever.”

  He held up his hand. “I promise not to crush any cars or spin any doughnuts while you’re with me.”

  Shaking her head, she crossed her arms, her expression mutinous. “Not. Going. To. Happen. Why don’t we take a real truck? One with a frame. And doors that stop people from falling out when going around a curve.”

  “Because the best way to see the Diamond Dust, to find out what makes it special, is on foot. But,” he continued, when she shot him one of her snooty glares, “since you don’t have on proper footwear, this is the second best option.” He shrugged. “Or you can stop by the gift shop during regular hours and catch one of the tours given to customers. You’ll learn the basics of winemaking and they’ll even throw in a quick wine tutorial and tasting.”

  He could practically see her brain working. See how she battled between wanting to refuse him and her desire to get the information he offered. He didn’t know why he was pushing it. It’d be easier on him if she joined one of the tours Pam and the women who worked under her at the gift shop gave twice a day during the week and four times on Saturdays.

  When they’d been married, Yvonne had shown no interest in his family’s business. And while the only reason he was here was because Connie had asked him to pinch-hit for her, he wanted to show Yvonne the Diamond Dust. Wanted her to see it through his eyes.

  “Come on,” he said, with what he hoped was a charming grin. “Let me show you around my way.”

  She glanced apprehensively at the utility vehicle again. Bit her lower lip. “I don’t know….”

  “Why don’t you just let loose a little?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll even have fun.”

  Before he could figure out what he’d said to put that hurt in her eyes, she blinked and it was gone. “I know how to have fun,” she said, as if he’d just issued an insult. Or a challenge.

  And maybe he had. But only because she was so stubborn, so hard to get through to. Only because he was so desperate to prove to himself there was more to her than she let anyone else see.

  He offered her his hand. “Then have some fun with me.”

  Finally, hesitantly, she slipped her hand into his. His chest loosened. Not that her declining would’ve killed him, but he did like getting his own way.

  He helped her into the seat, purposely ignoring how those white pants stretched across her ass as she stepped up. She buckled her seat belt and he crossed around the front of the vehicle to the driver’s side, climbed in and started the engine before strapping himself in.

  “Here we go,” he said, giving her time to brace herself. Then he slowly backed out of the driveway before heading down the road that would take them deeper into the Diamond Dust.

  The trees covering the rolling hills surrounding the vineyard were brown except for a few small clusters of deep green pines. Thick, white clouds dotted the blue sky and the sun warmed the air to almost tolerable. Spring was coming. And when it did, his vineyard would come alive again.

  Yvonne clutched the handle to her right, her left hand curled into a fist on her lap. “I haven’t seen anyone drive this…vehicle before,” she said, pitching her voice to be heard over the low engine and the wind. “Do you use it often?”

  “Only a few times so far. I ordered it after Brady agreed to work here, around Christmastime. I figured it would be easier on his knee to use this than try to ride one of the four-wheelers or climb in and out of a truck.”

  “Yes. I…well…I couldn’t help but notice his limp.”

  She was too damned polite to ask what had happened. Aidan stopped in front of the two-story brick farmhouse a hundred yards down the road from his mother’s.

  “He was injured by an IED—an improvised explosive device—while on patrol in Afghanistan.” Aidan squeezed the steering wheel. “He and two of his buddies were injured. A fourth man, a good friend of Brady’s, was killed.”

  Aidan almost jumped out of his seat when Yvonne laid her hand on his leg above his knee. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve horrible for you all.”

  He stared straight ahead. Her hand was warm on his thigh. “It was,” he admitted slowly, remembering his fear and relief, knowing how close he’d come to losing one of his brothers. “The worst part was he was suffering and there was nothing I could do to help him.”

  It’d been out of his control.

  “You’re helping him make a new life,” Yvonne said earnestly. “By keeping the winery going, you made sure both Brady and Matt had something to return to. A place to belong.”

  He snorted. “Except neither one of them wanted to be here. Brady was coerced, while Matt was outright blackmailed.”

  She straightened, her hand sliding off his leg to return to her lap. He immediately missed the contact. “If I recall correctly,” she said softly, “you didn’t want to be here, either.”

  “I don’t remember telling you that.”

  “You didn’t tell me. You didn’t have to.”

  Guilt nudged him. He tried to push it aside but it stuck there, just under his breastbone. She was right. He hadn’t wanted to drop out of law school, hadn’t wanted to give up his own dreams and goals to work at the Diamond Dust.

  And he’d never admitted his true feelings about returning. His resentment and anger, his fear of losing his father. He should have.

  An apology burned in his throat, but he couldn’t get the words out. It was too late for them.

  The purring engine vibrated the seats beneath them. The smell of exhaust filled the air.

  “Now we’re all a part of it,” he said. “When Mom retires in July, the three of us are taking over.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Of course,” he said gruffly.

  Yvonne drew back, seemed to shrink into herself. Damn it, he deserved a few hours without feeling guilty for every little thing. An afternoon where he didn’t have any responsibilities to anything—to anyone other than himself.

  Besides, why should he feel remorse for not letting her inside his head during their marriage, when she’d never let him see the real her? Even now she was pulling her shoulders back, pasting one of those too-bright-to-be-real smiles on her perfect face, getting ready to play a part to get past the awkwardness of this moment.

  “What kind of information, exactly, are you looking for from this tour?” he asked.

  “I want to know everything,” she said, reaching for her purse, which she’d set between her feet. “I need to be able to sell the Diamond Dust. I�
�m hoping to secure a spot for the winery at an upcoming bridal expo in Danville and would like to have some fliers made up of what makes the vineyard special. To do that, I want to have as much information for potential clients as possible. Especially about your family’s history here.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  She kept her eyes down as she dug through her huge bag. “I’d like to get a fresh perspective.”

  And that was the best idea he’d heard in a long time. He could sure use a fresh perspective. “In that case, we have a lot of ground to cover.”

  An hour later, he drove up a slight incline past a large block of vidal blanc vines. He’d shown her most of the vineyard, had explained how his great-great-great-grandfather William Sheppard had bought this land shortly before the start of the Civil War. And when he’d returned from the fighting, he’d set out to make a living by planting tobacco.

  The plantation prospered and William moved his wife and young son from the simple, single-story farmhouse into the grand home where Aidan had been raised. The brick house was built at the turn of the twentieth century to accommodate the growing number of Sheppards. It now housed offices for Connie, Brady and Matt on the first floor, along with a full kitchen. The four bedrooms and two bathrooms on the second floor were used for seasonal workers.

  Aidan wasn’t sure if it was the story of his family’s history here or the fact that he’d kept his speed to a minimum as he’d talked and pointed out the different varieties of grapes they passed. Whatever the reason, Yvonne had long since released the death grip she’d had on the side handle, and she no longer gasped every time he hit a bump. She’d even stopped trying to tame her hair, just let it blow wildly around her flushed face. The wind molded her silky shirt to her breasts.

  He jerked his gaze back to the narrow, dirt-packed road. He wanted to stop the vehicle, stab his hands into her thick mass of hair and pull her down to the grass with him. He wanted to see her smile, hear her laugh. Have her look at him with the same heat, the same longing he was feeling for her.