"What if I told you he sent it?" Landon asked. Anna's cat opened one eye from his perch on the back of the couch.
I laughed, and then gave him a stern finger shake. "Making me check my phone in class, making me snort with laughter, making me distract and amuse my fellow students. You're in big trouble."
Landon pointed the lip of his beer bottle at the cat. "Then he definitely sent it." He gave me an apologetic smile. "Sorry to distract you. How did you land on viticulture anyway? I mean, besides your obvious green thumb."
"Houseplants and potted herbs just need a little water and sunlight. Grape vines are a whole lot more complicated."
"And that's what you want? To grow grapes, maybe in a California vineyard? Isn't that hard work?" Landon leaned a hip on the counter next to me.
"That's what appeals to me," I said. "The hard work, the physical product. I don't just want to cash paychecks, I want to produce something I can hold."
"And drink," Landon said with a smile.
I swatted his shoulder. "There wasn't a garden at my grandfather's until my mom and I came to live with him. Just a few clumps of wildflowers and a bunch of weeds. It was therapy for my mom to make order out of all that chaos. Then she made it into so much more." The memory overtook me. "More colors than I knew flowers could be, sweet smelling herbs, fresh vegetables, and even fruit trees."
"So that's where you learned to garden and where you got your green thumb," Landon said.
I took a quick gulp of beer. "My mom got sick and she couldn't bear to see the garden overgrown. So I used to help her out to a lawn chair and let her direct me. I thought it made her feel better, but now I realize she did it for me."
Landon took my beer, set it down, and kept my hand.
"She knew I needed the garden," I continued. "When she died, I found so much comfort in all the living things we had planted and tended together."
He kissed the back of my hand. "Thank you for telling me that. I bet your mom would be proud of how you're thriving." Landon paused and looked into my eyes and I could almost feel the next question coming. “You never talk about your dad. Do you keep in touch?”
“No.” I stretched my neck and then cocked my head to the side. “He left us when I was barely walking. My mother never talked about him. All I really know was what my grandfather would say under his breath, and that was usually that we were all better off.”
I pulled my hand away, swiped my beer, and jumped off the kitchen counter. "It's nice out. We should sit on the balcony." The last thing I had wanted to do was think about a man I didn’t even have a memory of.
"Oh, that reminds me! I got a surprise for you," Landon said. He rummaged through the ingredients on the counter and pulled out a box of tea. "I noticed a pitcher of sun tea in the photograph of you and your grandfather on his front porch. I thought you might like to make some?"
I took the box of tea but couldn't say a word.
"I'd make it for you, but I have no idea how it works," he said.
His hopeless shrug made me laugh. "There's a pitcher in the cupboard above the stove."
Landon grabbed it. I held out my hand to take it, but he refused to hand it to me. "Now what?"
I tore open the box of tea, handed him a few bags, and directed him to fill the pitcher with water. He checked in with me after each easy step.
Laughing, I asked, "You've really never made sun tea before?"
He shot me a blue-eyed wink. "I know it needs sun. Wanna sit on the balcony?"
He squeezed through the narrow side door onto our small balcony. There was just enough room for the two chairs Anna and I had placed out there, and he settled into one with a happy sigh. I put the pitcher on the sunny corner of the railing and took the other chair.
"Not bad for a little apartment, huh?" I asked.
Landon looked out over the Pacific Ocean. "Not bad at all. Though I've got to admit I love the view from Michel's Beach more."
I tipped my face to the warm sunshine. "Funny what a few more miles down the coast can do."
"I’ll admit it. Santa Cruz is great. Lively town, phenomenal beaches, great mix of tourists and college students. What's not to like, right?"
"But you like somewhere else better." I shot him a sideways glance to confirm my suspicion.
Landon nodded. "I love the fog and the cliffs and that tiny little town, but I get it when people love beaches like this. You can't really blame your ex-boyfriend for moving here. I mean, I'm sure upstate New York is beautiful, but then there's this."
The beer fizzed in my stomach along with a sour taste. Hearing Landon mention Owen made me uncomfortable, but I had to agree with him. I couldn't blame Owen for wanting a change and when an opportunity popped up in Santa Cruz, I couldn't blame him for taking it. The only problem was how it overlapped with my own fresh start. Things were so tangled up, like vines on a trellis.
"Is it bad that I'm starting to see my relationships in terms of vineyards?" I asked.
Landon took a sip of his beer and coughed. "I'm sure that'll make sense once you explain it."
I leaned forward in my chair. "Some people help the vines grow up and along the trellis, some people are the trellis, and some people block the sun."
"Okay, I can see it," Landon nodded. "Some people help you grow while others tend to stunt your growth."
I shrugged. "Maybe that just fits my life, but I'm trying to be selective about the people I allow in my vineyard."
"Your analogy fits my life, too," Landon said. "In fact, I feel like I'm sitting in the sun for the first time in a long while."
I remembered his oh-so-charming cousin and her instant assumptions about me. Landon frowned every time he got a text message from her, but he still let her organize his life.
Landon's lips curved in a contented smile. "No wonder all your plants are growing so happy. I could get used to this."
I snorted. "Used to a tiny, two-bedroom apartment? Doesn't it make you feel cramped?"
"You've got everything you need right here. What could be more perfect?"
It made my head spin. Sitting with Landon so comfortably on the sunny balcony was more than I could have hoped for. I had told myself just seeing him again was enough, but now I wasn't so sure.
Landon stretched out his long legs and took another sip of beer. "I'm more interested in knowing what's going to happen now you have room to grow."
I started slowly. "I want to find a small vineyard, something that feels like family. I'm not looking for the top job. I want to earn my way up and learn everything I can. I don't care if all I do is prune for years, as long as I can see something good come out of my efforts."
"You'll be able to literally see the fruits of your labors," Landon said.
I groaned. "Puns aside, it's your turn. If you didn't have your family legacy hanging over your head, what would you do?"
Landon's eyes drifted out over the waves. "You really should meet our head gardener. Like I said, we've got vines on the estate, and he meets regularly with local vintners. Maybe he could help you find an apprenticeship or even a job."
"No. No, thank you," I said. "I probably could use the recommendation, but I don't want it. I need to earn my own way. I need something of my own. Does that make sense?"
"I completely agree," Landon said. "I know it sounds stupid, but I want the same thing. Just a chance to do something real, something hands-on. Like you said, I wish I could do something, have something of my own." He grimaced. "I know, ridiculous coming out the mouth of someone who has everything."
"Except a job," I said.
Landon threw back his head and laughed. "Exactly. Oh, by the way, did you get the rosemary?”
In my excitement, I turned toward him and our legs bumped together. He sat up, leaned forward, and gave my bouncing knee a squeeze.
"I love it," I said. "How did you know it was the one herb I was missing? I can't wait to make rosemary lavender scones. Wait until you try them. I'm a terrible baker, but scones are easy
and having fresh rosemary on hand is going to be so great."
Landon drew back and I realized how overwhelming I sounded. I jumped up and checked the sun tea. "Is it done?" Landon asked. He stood up, unintentionally cornering me against the railing.
"Sorry about before," I said. "I wasn't really thinking. It's just despite the tight fit, I like having you around. I hope that's not too much to say."
His smile was slow, as were the fingers that caught a tendril of my hair. "You keep worrying that the cramped quarters make me uncomfortable. To me, it feels like a good fit."
I fought the urge to lean into his arms. The man was stronger than an ocean undertow, and I was in definite danger of drowning in his eyes. Then his smiling mouth brushed against mine and a sigh of pleasure escaped my lips.
Landon put his hands on the railing, boxing me into the corner, and took his time tasting, nipping, and stirring up a storm with small strokes of his tongue. He'd let up, our eyes would meet, and then he would kiss me again with a smile still on his lips.
"You really don't mind having me here?" he asked, brushing a kiss across my cheek.
My voice wavered as he nuzzled my neck. "No, I don't mind at all. Actually, I was a little sad when I got home and you weren't here."
"Mmm," Landon pressed an electric kiss to my neck just below my ear. "Sorry about that. I let the day get away from me. Lunch with Owen ran long, and then I wanted to stop by the grocery store and pick up everything for dinner. By the way, I should tell you, the rosemary wasn’t from me. Owen left it for you and Anna."
"Wait, what?" I shoved Landon back and he blinked in surprise. My heart fell into my stomach and a cold wave of fear washed away the heat that had been building between us. "I'm sorry, did you say you had lunch with Owen?"
Before he could finish nodding, I pushed Landon farther back and ducked into the kitchen. He followed, holding the sun tea, but he had to step back as I paced the small section of tiled floor.
"You had lunch with Owen? My ex-boyfriend? What, did you run into him in the parking lot and hit it off? That's crazy!" I couldn't let Landon talk because panic was pulling me apart. "How could he do that? I can't believe this. He runs off every single one of my dates."
Landon caught me by the shoulders. "What do you think Owen did? He saw me coming out of your apartment and we got to talking. I wanted a recommendation for lunch so he took me to the surf shack."
I shrugged off his hands and spun in the tiny kitchen. "You don't understand. Owen's the laziest person I've ever met. He gets everyone to do everything for him. He was probably hungry and didn't have any cash so he conned you into thinking you needed him as a lunch companion."
"Riley stop, please." Landon tried to corner me again.
I dodged around him and then spun to face him, my hands on my hips. "That's it! Owen has crossed the line."
"He's the one who gave you the rosemary," Landon said. "And it wasn’t just for you —this isn’t all about you.”
"You don't understand," I said. "Owen figures out what people want to hear, but he only cares about getting what he wants."
"I don't see it." Landon's jaw muscle flexed.
"No, you don't," I said. "You don't see how he hangs around here and watches our apartment. You don't know how he figured out both mine and Anna’s schedules and appears whenever he thinks we have a free minute. He acts all casual and says he's just checking up on us, but it feels like more than that.”
Landon crossed his arms and smiled. "I think it is more than that, just not what you think. Like I said, I don’t think it’s about you. So he's tenacious and maybe a bit too thorough. Is it wrong for him to try for what he wants?”
I held up both hands and shook my head. "This isn't happening. You're not defending my ex-boyfriend.”
He let his arms drop to his sides. "I'm sorry, Riley. It was probably way out of line. It's just we got to talking, and I realized that he would be a good fit at our housing project office. So I offered him a job."
I flopped back against the counter and gaped at Landon. "You offered Owen a job in one of your offices and he accepted?"
"It's about an hour from here. Owen will be heading there next week."
"Landon, are you sure you want to do that? You don't have to do that. Owen's not the hardest worker. What if he just causes you more problems?" I ran my hands up and down my arms.
He shrugged. "It's a good opportunity for him. They don't work the typical nine to five there and the work is interesting. Also, I set him up in a small apartment. He can finally get settled and start to think about getting his life organized."
It would be good for Owen, but I didn't see any benefits for Landon. "He didn't earn that job. He tricked you into giving it to him. You don’t have to be nice to him for me."
Landon caught my hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "He didn't trick me and I’m not just doing it for you. Owen’s a good reminder to me to find a goal and work toward it. We’re alike in that way. Besides, when Owen's an hour away getting his life together, he won't be lurking outside your apartment. And he won't be interrupting us."
Chapter Fourteen
Landon
I wished I could walk out the door and start all over. I'd even take the groceries, pack them up again, and fumble them as I knocked. If we started over, I wouldn't mention Owen, and Riley wouldn't get upset.
There was no way I could lie to her about it, though. For one thing, she’d hated that I’d lied by omission about who I was when we’d first met. For another thing, Owen would probably tell her at his first chance. The Owen she remembered was a lot different than the ambitious and determined man I had sat across from at lunch. Maybe she couldn’t see that yet, and I couldn’t blame her.
"It's nice of you to take an interest in Owen, but it's also really awkward," Riley said.
"Even if all I want is to help him get on his feet so he can move on in a different direction, away from you?" I asked.
She slid down the kitchen counter away from me. "My grandfather never trusted Owen. Not even after he moved into the farmhouse."
I rocked back on my heels as the news hit me square in the chest. "Wait, you lived with him?"
Riley shrugged. "He lost his lease and needed a place to crash until he found a new apartment."
"And he never found a new place?" I guessed.
She laid a light hand on my arm. "So maybe you want to rethink hiring him?"
I shook my head. "I can't. I'm sorry. I was just trying to help him, and he seems genuinely interested in making the most of the opportunity."
"That's what you should be afraid of," Riley said. "And what do you mean, you can't?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. "I gave him my word. Human Resources will be notified, and he'll start next week."
Riley turned her back to me and, with both hands on the counter, drummed a fast rhythm. She was upset and there was nothing I could do.
"I wonder what your grandfather would have thought of me," I said.
She turned and considered me from head to toe. The sensation of her chocolate eyes sweeping over my body made it hard to feel dejected. "He would have thought you were a fool for trusting Owen," she said, "but a good man for giving him a chance."
She raked her hair off her face and blew out a breath. She tried to avoid my smile, but I dodged in front of her and stayed in her line of sight. "A good fool? I don't think anyone's ever called me that before. I'm not really one of those bosses that surrounds himself with 'yes men,' but I have to say I like your honesty."
She smiled. "Fine, all right. How about you tell me what all of these ingredients are going to make? I've been trying to figure it out."
I surveyed the kitchen and, for a moment, completely forgot the foolproof recipe Andrew had given me. "Well, how about we get started on dinner? Maybe you can guess."
Riley jumped out of the kitchen as I started whipping open cupboard doors. She sat on a stool at the island and watched me with those dark, velvet eyes.
I had no idea what I really needed, so I just took out things that looked useful.
"Oh, yeah, I'll need a pan," I said, mostly to myself.
Riley grinned and settled her elbows on the island. "A spatula and tongs? Must be complicated."
I put the tongs away and pulled out a wooden spoon. Andrew's instructions were starting to come back. "Do you have a colander?"
"Corner cupboard," she said. "Watch out or you'll—"
The cupboard door stuck, and when I pulled too hard it flew open and whacked me in the kneecap. "Oh yeah, I need a pot with a lid too," I said through gritted teeth.
"Want me to make the salad?" Riley finally took pity on me and jumped down from the stool.
I forgot about the pot I was holding and watched her. Her familiarity with the tight kitchen had trained her to move with a certain grace and efficiency. Next to her slender figure, I must have looked like a hulking oaf.
"All right, all right. I'll confess," I said when she caught me staring. "Andrew gave me the recipe and promised it was easy but impressive. The only problem is I don't understand half his directions."
Riley laughed and held out her hand. I gave her my phone with Andrew's recipe on the screen. "Pan-fried salmon and orzo with a butter sage sauce. He was right —this would have been impressive."
"Order from anywhere and I'll pick it up to go," I said.
She shook her head and elbowed me out of the way. "Andrew was right about the other thing too. It's easy and we can do it."
I filled the pot with water and added a big pinch of salt as she instructed. Riley took the salmon out of the refrigerator and told me to peel off the remaining skin.
"Want some sun tea?" She leaned into the refrigerator.
I eyed the silver fish scales. "I think I might need something a little stronger."
She handed me another beer and rummaged through the ingredients I’d bought. "Oh, good, I like a little garlic and lemon with my salmon," she said.
I clattered the lid down on the pot of water. "I didn't buy any garlic."
Riley raised an eyebrow and looked at me. Her steady, amused gaze, and the way her chin tipped up, made me glance behind me. "I grow my own garlic," she explained. "I hang the bulbs there to dry out. Go ahead and grab one."
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