By the time Naughton got back to Butler Ranch each evening, Bradley was gone. Since he had no good reason to see her, he was left at fate’s mercy. So far fate hadn’t been on his side.
“I requested a meeting with Bradley this afternoon.”
“What for?”
“To discuss some ideas she has for the harvest.”
The harvest? Was double-master Bradley flexing her academic muscle? Better that she put her head down and spend the next year learning rather than thinking she could come in and make suggestions for the winery that he and Maddox had been working since they were kids.
Other than being there to receive the grapes once Naught’s crew picked and delivered them, there wasn’t anything he would need her to do this year.
Naughton and Maddox walked the vineyards every year, taking measurements and discussing when to harvest each varietal, but the final decision had always been, and would always be, Naughton’s. It had been that way since their father retired.
“You hear me?” Mad asked.
“Yeah. Whatever. Let me know when.”
Maddox looked at his phone. “She’ll be here in an hour.”
“Here?” Naught and Mad were at Demetria. Why would they meet here instead of Butler Ranch?
“I asked her to meet us here, so she and I could walk these vineyards.”
“Why?”
“Never know, maybe she’ll take over winemaking here too.”
Was Maddox jerking his chain? “She really meeting us here, or are you bullshittin’ me?”
“She’s really coming here.”
Naughton studied Mad’s face, but his brother wasn’t giving anything away.
“There’s something else I want to discuss with you.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s about Lena Hess.”
Jesus, what now? The last thing Naughton wanted to think about was the mess his brother Kade had left in his wake. Finding out he’d been married to Lena shocked him to his core. Not just him, it hit Maddox and Brodie damn hard too.
It had been almost two months since Maddox uncovered Kade’s secret, and he and his brothers still hadn’t decided when or how to tell their sisters or their parents. Whenever he heard Lena’s name, his hurt, anger, and questions resurfaced.
It wasn’t as though Naughton didn’t think about Kade every day. How could he not? Every step he took on this property reminded him of his brother. One of the last times he saw Kade was on this very land.
Kade was leaning against the split-rail fence when Naughton got to the end of the row of old vine Zinfandel. “Let’s go for a drive,” he’d said.
Naughton didn’t ask where, because he didn’t care. Kade would be shipping out in a couple of days and any time he could spend with him, he’d take.
They didn’t often talk when they were together; they didn’t need to fill the silence with unnecessary conversation. It was only one way Naughton was a lot like his oldest brother.
At first, Naughton thought Kade was taking him to Moonstone Beach in Cambria, but when he turned off the highway and onto Old Creek Road, he was baffled.
Ten miles later, Kade pulled up to an unmarked set of gates and waited while they swung open. He drove through and stopped near a grove of trees.
“What’s that?” Naughton pointed to a house not far from where they were.
Kade’s reply had been vague. “Previous owners lived there.”
“Who’s the current owner?”
“You are.”
Working in a vineyard didn’t require much of a wardrobe. Jeans, short or long-sleeved shirts, and boots were the daily standard. So, the fact that Bradley gave any thought to what she was wearing because she was going to see Naughton Butler, was stupid.
Not to mention that her on-and-off boyfriend of the last four years was driving in from Napa later this afternoon. Since they were currently “on,” the last thing she should be doing was dressing to impress her boss, or the brother of her boss, or whatever he was.
If it weren’t for his eyes, she might not have realized it was Naughton who had stalked into the winery earlier in the week, demanding to know who she was and what she was doing there.
They were the same steel blue as Maddox’s. Instead of dark brown like his brother’s, Naughton’s hair was blond, as though it had been bleached by the sun, and his skin was tan and weathered from his days spent out in the vineyards. Every muscle on his body was rock hard, yet Bradley doubted he’d ever been inside a gym. He’d caught her looking as he walked away the other day, but she hadn’t been able to resist. His butt filled out his snug pair of jeans in a way that almost made Bradley drool.
It was the way his shoulders curved forward as he’d walked away, though, that haunted her. She recognized the stance; she’d seen it often enough with her father.
For him, it had been the stress and sadness of losing his wife, Bradley’s mother, far too young. A drunk driver was responsible for the car accident that took her life, and after that horrific night, her father swore off any and all forms of alcohol.
The fact that she’d mastered in enology and viticulture at Cornell caused endless arguments between them, but Bradley refused to give in. Winemaking was in her blood. Even though her Uncle Charlie wasn’t a blood relative, it was as though she was born to walk among the vines. She’d felt their magic the first time he took her into the vineyard, and every time after.
Her mother had brought her along every July when she visited her sister. Work at the winery was slow during the summer, which meant her uncle had time to show her the different varietals and teach her how to look for veraison, when the grapes started to turn the harvest color and the berries went from hard to soft. There wasn’t a more beautiful or colorful time in the vineyard.
The summer after her mother died, Aunt Jean had begged Bradley’s father to let her spend July with them, like she had the previous seven years, but he’d refused. Bradley hadn’t made a fuss, but instead spent most every day in her room crying.
The following summer, her father agreed to let her visit California, and instead of staying for the month of July, he’d arranged for her to fly out shortly after the school year ended and to fly back a few days before the next school year began. Every year after, it became harder to leave so close to harvest.
Once she started college, her summers grew shorter, until finally, she was able to arrange to work at Jenson Vineyards for the fall semester, as part of her thesis research.
She’d loved everything about the harvest, even getting up at three in the morning to pick grapes. From sorting bad fruit from good to punching down the cap—Bradley was in heaven.
There were machines that looked like giant potato mashers that were used to punch down the solids—grape skins, seeds, stems, pulp—that rose to the surface during fermentation. In order to extract the most color and flavor, the floating cap had to be broken up and resubmerged into the juice every few hours. It was tedious, grueling work, but Bradley never complained.
The vineyard staff admired her work ethic and stamina, and soon invited her into the tight circle of assistant winemakers, winery managers, and occasionally, head winemakers from other estates.
From them, she learned everything she couldn’t sitting in a lecture hall at Cornell. She’d been tempted to drop out more than once, but Aunt Jean convinced her to stick it out.
“The years pass much more quickly than you think,” she’d said. “Stay with it, get your degrees, and make your father happy.”
Bradley heeded her aunt’s advice, and shortly after she graduated, her uncle gave her a job. It was nowhere near as good as the one Maddox had offered, though.
Uncle Charlie encouraged her to take it. “This is how you learn,” he’d told Bradley. “Work with as many winemakers as you can. Learn how their crafts differ from winery to winery, particularly region to region.”
The Paso Robles wine region had many different subregions. Jenson Vineyards and Butler Ranch were on the west side
of the valley, but not as far west as Demetria Estate, where she was headed this afternoon.
The east side had its own set of growing conditions, which often resulted in earlier veraison and earlier harvesting. How far north or south the vineyards and wineries were located gave additional sets of variables. Bradley could spend most of her career working in Paso Robles and never stop learning.
“Bradley,” her aunt shouted up the stairwell. “Are you leaving soon?”
She checked her phone, ran down the stairs, and kissed her aunt on the cheek. “Be back later,” she smiled and waved as she walked out the door.
“About Lena…”
“What about her?”
“I haven’t been able to track her down.”
Naughton shrugged. “And?”
“There was something else she was hiding before she left town. Any idea what it was?”
How in the hell would he know, and why would Maddox even ask? Maddox had had more interaction with Lena than he did.
It still bugged the shit out of him that he didn’t know how his truck got to Demetria the night Maddox had met Lena here, and she told him she was leaving town.
When Maddox confronted him and asked why he’d been at Demetria that night, Naughton had no idea what his brother was talking about. Maddox wouldn’t relent, and followed Naughton to where he’d parked in the hospital lot. While not definitive, there was enough fresh mud on the tires that Naughton had to accept his brother’s insistence that someone had driven it to Demetria and returned it to Butler Ranch without his knowledge.
It was common knowledge that most vehicles on the ranch were kept unlocked, typically with the keys left in the ignition. Trustworthiness had never been an issue.
Since, he’d kept his truck locked up tight. He’d also installed a motion alarm that only he, Maddox, and his father knew how to disable. That way, if anyone attempted to take it, even if they had a key, the vehicle’s starter would be disabled, and Naughton would get an alert on his phone.
His bike was another story. His vintage BMW motorcycle had always been locked up tight, and if anyone tried to take it, they wouldn’t get five feet from where he kept it parked.
Naughton looked at his phone. “She’s late.”
“Bradley? We didn’t have a set time. I just told her to give us about an hour.”
Just as Naughton thought he might be able to get away with a disappearing act, Bradley’s green and white Ford pickup pulled through the gate.
It was time they started keeping the gate closed, so Naughton could keep out those he didn’t want to let in, not that he’d keep Bradley out. At least not yet.
“Stop it.” Maddox nudged him.
“Stop what?”
“Scowling.”
He wasn’t scowling; it’s just how his face was. Nothing made him scowl quicker, though, than someone telling him to stop.
“I have work to do. I don’t have time for some bullshit—”
“Hi, Naughton,” Bradley said, walking up behind him. What was she, some kind of freak ninja that could walk into a conversation without making a sound?
“Bradley.”
“I was telling Naughton that I wanted us to walk the vineyards this morning. I was intrigued by some of your ideas for Butler Ranch and thought we might be able to make use of them here.”
That explained the ice-cold shoulder Naughton gave her when she’d said hello. What was Maddox thinking? He knew better than to suggest to a vineyard manager that an assistant winery manager might have ideas for his vines. She glared at Maddox, who smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
Worse, it appeared Maddox was doing it on purpose.
“Hey, Mad.” A tall and very beautiful woman came walking out of the woods and kissed Maddox loudly on the lips.
“Hey, Naught.” She smiled and looked at Bradley. “You must be the new kick-ass winemaker. I’m Alex.”
“Hey, Alex.” Bradley smiled. “It’s great to meet you.”
“You, too. Although I think we met once before. You were about this tall.” Alex put her hand near her elbow. “You’re Charlie and Jean Jenson’s niece, right?”
“I am.”
Alex linked her arm through Bradley’s. “We need to get you over to Stave to meet Peyton.”
If anyone would understand Naughton attempting to sneak away unnoticed, it would be Alex. She did it all the time, or at least she used to. Since she and Maddox had finally admitted to each other, and everyone else, that they were a couple, and in love no less, he hadn’t seen her pull a Houdini.
“We should all have dinner.” Alex was looking at him as though she was waiting for him to answer. Naught looked at Maddox and Bradley, who also looked like they were waiting for his response.
“Sure, whatever,” he finally said.
“Great. I’ll set it up.”
Bradley was still staring at him. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing. Sorry.” She turned and walked away.
“Smooth, Naught. Real smooth.” Alex nudged him. “I like her.”
“You have dinner with her, then,” he muttered, hoping Bradley didn’t hear him.
It wasn’t usually his intention to be an asshole—he just rarely tried not to be one.
“When’s the last time you went on a date, Naught?” Alex asked.
“Are you kidding me right now?” he growled at whisper volume, once again hoping Bradley wasn’t listening to their conversation.
“She likes you.”
“Stop it.”
Alex turned her attention back to Maddox and Bradley. “What’s happenin’ today?”
“We’re walking the vineyards here, and then Bradley has some ideas to run past Naughton.”
Alex laughed. “You’re a wily coyote, Mad-man.”
There was nothing wrong with Bradley’s hearing, which meant she didn’t miss any of the conversation, nor the laughter following. Whatever Maddox had hoped would happen by bringing her here today, clearly wasn’t working out.
“I can see the timing is off for us to do this, Maddox. Okay if I meet you back at Butler Ranch later?”
He shook his head and glared at Naughton and Alex. “Okay, you two. Enough. We have work to do today.”
“Hey, Mad. There's something I need to talk to you about before we walk the vineyards.”
“We'll be right back,” Maddox said before following Alex back into the woods, leaving Bradley alone with Naughton.
“She’s just being stupid. Alex likes to yank my chain,” Naughton muttered.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bradley snapped.
“Come on, lighten up.” When Naughton took a step toward her, Bradley took a step back.
“I don’t bite.”
“This was a bad idea.”
“What? Maddox asking you to walk the vineyards here?”
“Obviously.”
He laughed, which only pissed her off more.
“I get it, Naughton. You think I’m a joke. Tell you what, I don’t need to set foot on these vineyards ever again. I work for Butler Ranch, not Demetria.”
“What? No. You’ve got this all wrong. No one thinks you’re a joke, Bradley. Least of all me.”
“Yeah, right.” She wanted to smack the arrogant grin off his mouth-wateringly handsome face.
“You don’t know me very well, but if you decide to stick around, you’ll learn that I don’t bother talking when there isn’t anything to say.”
“Whatever, Naughton. You got your wish, I’m outta here.” Bradley stomped off in the direction of her truck but could feel him following behind her.
“Don’t go.”
She had her key out to open the door of her truck when he rested his hand on her shoulder.
“Why not?” She turned around. Her breath caught in her throat, and she almost forgot why she’d wanted to leave. With Naughton so close, it was hard to remember her own name.
“Because I asked you not to.” He stepped forward, not that there was enough roo
m for him to do so, and Bradley melted. There was no other word for the way his being so close made every one of her muscles go lax.
What was he doing? Worse, what was she doing? She worked for him, and she had a boyfriend.
She put her hands on her hips, and he took a step back.
“Listen, Naughton, I work—”
“For my brother. You will never work for me.”
“Understood. But—”
“You don’t understand anything.”
Naughton walked away, leaving her standing next to her truck, unsure what to do next.
3
“Come on,” he hollered. “They’re waiting for us.”
While they walked, Naughton pointed out it would be three years, at least, before the vineyards at Demetria Estate would produce enough fruit to make wine, which had been obvious.
Taking it all in, she figured their initial investment in rootstock had to have been significant, even if the bulk of it came from Butler Ranch, which Bradley doubted. She hadn’t learned the entire makeup of the vineyards at the ranch, but she knew enough about the wine they made to guess Demetria Estate’s production would be vastly different.
“Bradley, have you met Hawks Martinez?” Maddox introduced the man standing near a row of vines. “He’ll be field manager at Demetria.”
“Nice to meet you. What’s your name? Bradley?” Hawks asked.
“Yeah.”
“We gotta come up with a nickname for you. Anybody ever call you something besides Bradley? Brad doesn’t seem right either.”
“Her name is Bradley,” Naughton snapped. “She doesn’t need a nickname.”
“It’s okay.” She put her hand on Hawks’ arm, which only made Naughton’s scowl worsen.
“Bradley will work primarily at Butler Ranch,” Maddox explained to Hawks.
He winked. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“What are your ideas? Isn’t that why we’re here, to hear your ideas?” Naughton grumbled.
Bradley nodded and looked at Maddox.
“Go ahead, tell them what you told me yesterday,” Maddox urged.
The Secret (Butler Ranch Book 3) Page 2