“Bradley, are you listening?”
“Yes. Sorry, thinking about yesterday. What did you say?”
“I said that Naughton had been planning to pick Sauvignon Blanc in the next few days anyway, and Chardonnay was close enough that we’ll get a decent amount of juice at crush.”
“That’s good news.”
“As you know, the bulk of the Cabernet vineyards were left unscathed, so Naughton decided not to pick yet.”
That didn’t surprise her. It was only the first week of September, and harvest would go well into the first week of October, fire or no fire.
“Not sure how we’ll be affected by smoke taint, but the good news is, grapes are less susceptible after veraison. The other contributing factor is time. The fact they were able to contain and extinguish the fire as quickly as they did is what will save the juice of the fruit that survived.”
“So, no flash boil?”
“Naughton doesn’t think it’s necessary at this point. We’ll reevaluate after we get the numbers back from the lab.”
It was standard procedure to send fruit to a lab that could better determine what compounds were found that shouldn’t be there. Bradley assumed they’d pulled from every batch that had been picked, and would continue to do so.
“We’re leveling everything that burned, and we’ll replant, implementing what we’ve been discussing.”
Bradley didn’t kid herself into thinking she’d played any part in that decision, after all, according to Trey she was just a marginally pretty girl who thought she knew something about making wine.
Whether she worked for Butler Ranch or not, Maddox and Naughton would have come to the same conclusions she had. For the winery to remain viable, they had to diversify and experiment. It’s what Maddox told her the day he had offered her the job.
“We need new blood, fresh ideas. I want time to focus on Demetria, but more importantly, I want someone who is willing to shake things up around here,” he’d said. “You’ll have my full support, I promise you that.”
Bradley had questioned his decision then. There was financial risk involved that, now, no longer mattered. Their hand had been forced.
“Naughton is bringing in overhead irrigation today. In fact, the process has probably already started.”
Maddox’s cell buzzed, and he looked at the screen. “It’s the fire marshal; I need to take this.”
Bradley stood to give him some privacy, processing what he had told her. He and Naughton had to have been up all night, making decisions, and getting the field workers refocused. Everything appeared to be back under control.
Her job now would be to focus on the fruit that was being held in cold storage and wait for Maddox’s instructions for the crush. It would likely begin later today or tonight. Holding the fruit past a couple of days, could result in spoilage.
“Jesus!” Maddox exclaimed. She spun around to see he was still on the phone, his hand gripping the back of his neck. Before she turned away, he hurled a bottle of wine at the opposite side of the winery, shattering it. He stormed out of the building without another word.
Not knowing what else to do, Bradley went into the cold room and began an inventory of what was there. She couldn’t focus, though. She hadn’t seen this side of Maddox before and could only assume that whatever the fire marshal told him was bad. Her hands shook, making it near impossible for her to write the numbers she’d just counted. She was about to give up when she heard the winery door open.
“Are you okay?” Alex asked, meeting her halfway between the main door and the cold room.
“Me?”
Alex nodded.
“I’m okay. Maddox got a call.”
“Come with me.” Alex led her out of the winery and into the vineyards.
“Why are we here?” Bradley asked.
“I want to be sure no one can hear us.” Alex looked around. “There’s news.”
“About?”
“The fire.”
“What about it?”
“The fire marshal thinks it may have been set intentionally. Maddox and Naughton are meeting with the investigators now.”
Bradley felt her knees give way, and she gripped Alex’s arm to stay upright. “Jesus,” she murmured.
“I thought about canceling the collaborative meeting, but now I’m glad I didn’t. There’s a lot of shit happening in the valley, but this was the worst of it. It wasn’t just the vineyards or Butler Ranch at risk, people could’ve died. The entire westside could’ve been devastated if they hadn’t gotten the fire under control so quickly.”
Bradley felt sick to her stomach, recalling Trey’s words. Twenty-six billion dollars a year is at stake, and I can tell you, the wine conglomerates will stop at nothing to get what they want.
“You’re pale, Bradley. Do you need to sit?”
Bradley shook her head. Her mind raced, trying to remember every detail of what Trey had said.
“Is there proof?”
“Not officially.”
“What does that mean?”
Alex looked over Bradley’s shoulder. “Here comes Naughton. We’ll talk more about this later.”
“Got a minute?” she heard him say, and was about to leave when Alex gripped her shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ll just head back to the winery.”
“He wants to talk to you, not me.”
When Bradley turned around, Naughton was right behind her.
“Is there something you need?” she asked, not sure what else to say.
“Damn right, there is.”
He said it loudly enough that Alex turned around and glared at him. Bradley felt as though she was going to be sick to her stomach.
He was done waiting for her to make the first move to talk to him. He didn’t care what Maddox thought; he and Bradley had a lot to discuss, and he told his brother so. Especially now. If what the marshal believed was true, everyone in the valley needed to be on high alert.
“Come with me.”
“I can’t. I mean, Maddox—”
“He knows you’re leaving.”
“Are you firing me?”
Naughton stopped so abruptly, Bradley almost ran into him. He spun around and faced her. “Why in God’s name would you think you were being fired?”
Bradley chewed at her fingernails, and Naughton gripped her wrist.
“You’re trembling. What’s going on?”
“Alex told me, you know, about the fire.”
“Good. I mean, I’m glad you know.”
“I’m so sorry…”
She looked as though she had more to say, so Naughton waited. He let go of her wrist and pulled her to him, soothing tears that turned into something worse. Bradley’s body shook against his.
“Hey, now,” he said, pulling back to get her to look at him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
He took her hand and she followed, but her shaking didn’t stop. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“For a ride.”
“I told you, I’m not a horse person.”
“Not that kind of ride.”
He stopped in front of the barn, punched his code into his phone, and waited while the doors swung open.
“Here,” he said, handing her a helmet. “Put this on.”
“There’s something I need to tell you, Naughton.”
“Yeah? There’s something I need to tell you too, and both can wait.”
Bradley looked at the helmet, and then at him. “I’m not a motorcycle person either.”
“You will be,” he said, taking the helmet from her hands and putting it on her head. He adjusted the chin strap, and then put his hands on her shoulders. “Wiggle it around a little. Is it comfortable?”
When she nodded, he put on his own helmet and started the bike. “Get on.”
For a minute he didn’t think she was going to, but then she rested her hand on his shoulder and threw her leg over.
“Sco
ot closer and put your feet on those pegs,” he said, pointing behind him.
She moved a little closer and rested her feet where he told her to. “Put your arms around my waist.” She had to move closer to do so, and when she did, she was right where he wanted her. It may not have been the best idea to get her on the bike when she was upset, but riding always helped him get out of his head. Maybe it would do the same for her.
“Ready?”
She nodded, and Naughton eased the bike out through the barn door and onto the ranch’s main drive.
“Hold on tight,” he said when they reached Adelaida Trail. “If I lean, go with me, okay?”
She nodded again.
He took a right, and they rode under the canopy of the big oak trees. When he picked up speed, he felt her hands grip his waist tighter. He loved the feel of her behind him, her body sliding closer until there was nowhere else for her to go. Bradley’s body tight against his felt like heaven.
Instead of going out to the highway, Naughton took a couple of turns and followed the back roads, eventually arriving at the front gate of Demetria. He stopped the bike, dug out his phone, and punched in the gate code. A moment later, it swung open and he pulled the bike through. He stopped near the creekside and killed the engine.
“Climb off, and I’ll help you with your helmet,” he said.
As soon as she let go and put her foot on the ground, he missed the feel of her against him and regretted not riding farther. He had things to tell her, though, and this was the best place for him to do it.
He took his own helmet off first, and moved her hands that were fiddling with the chin strap. “Here,” he said, easily releasing the buckle.
“That was amazing,” she said once she’d pulled the helmet off her head.
“You can set that here.” He patted the seat. After she’d set it down, he put his next to hers.
They walked over and sat on the bench of the picnic table next to the creek.
“You’re quiet,” he said after a few minutes.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just listen, then.”
“Okay.”
“Alex told you there’s evidence the fire was set intentionally.”
Bradley nodded, and the stress he’d seen on her face when she was talking to Alex in the vineyard returned.
“I think I know who set it,” he said.
Bradley stood from the table, walked a little ways away, and bent over, her hands on her knees. “So do I, Naughton.”
8
Her response stunned him. How could she? Had her uncle filled her in on what had happened with Rory Calder and Los Caballeros? Even if he had, no one outside of the Butler and Avila families knew the whole story. They knew enough to be cautious, but that was all.
Naughton had a lot of thinking to do about what he should tell Bradley, especially given her reaction.
“Change of plans,” he said. “Let’s get back on the bike.”
“Do we need to go back?”
“To the ranch? No.”
“But there’s so much work.”
“You did a great job yesterday, Bradley, and now Maddox has taken over what you started. What we need to talk about is more important.”
“Okay…”
“When’s the last time you ate?”
Bradley shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“That’s what I figured.” Naughton handed her the helmet and helped her fasten the chin strap after she put it on. Since he hadn’t put his on yet, it would be so easy to lean forward, tilt his head, and put his lips where they’d long to be since the last time he kissed her. He didn’t, though. First, they needed to talk.
He stayed on the back roads as long as he could before riding out to the highway that ran east and west between Paso Robles and the ocean.
When that highway dead-ended, he went south on Highway One, pulled off the main road, and took the access road to Harmony.
“Where are we going?”
“Sadie’s.”
“Who’s Sadie?”
“The woman who owns the diner.”
This time Bradley unfastened her own helmet and held it under her arm.
“It’ll be safe here,” he told her. “We can leave them on the seat.”
“Hey, Naught,” said Sadie when they walked inside. “Who’s this?”
“This is Bradley Saint John. Bradley, this is Sadie.”
Bradley shook Sadie’s hand and looked around her toward the back of the diner.
“Need a restroom, sugar?” Sadie asked.
“Yes, please.”
“Follow me.”
When she came back to the table, Bradley sat across from Naughton and looked everywhere but at him. He didn’t take his eyes off her, even when her cheeks turned pink.
“Naughton, I…what you said before—”
He stopped her. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about the fire later, after we’ve eaten. Let’s not spoil either of our appetites.”
“Is she going to bring us menus?”
“I already ordered.”
“For both of us?”
Naughton nodded. Maybe that had been presumptuous of him. “If you want something else…”
“That’s okay. I’m sure whatever you ordered is fine.”
He hated the awkwardness between them and stood. “Scoot over,” he said, sitting on her side of the booth, close enough that his hip rested against hers.
He could feel her eyes on him. Her warm breath against his neck was like a caress, and he swallowed the groan that threatened to escape.
If he turned to look at her, he’d kiss her, and he couldn’t do that yet. First, he had a story to tell her.
“There’s a meeting of the collaborative on Thursday. Did Maddox talk to you about it?” he asked.
“Alex did.”
“Did she tell you Mad wants you to attend?”
“No, but—”
“He does.”
“I can do that. What’s it about?”
“How much has your uncle told you about what’s been happening in the valley?”
“A little. He said there was some trouble between you and the new owners of Tablas Creek.”
“The trouble was with Los Caballeros, not Butler Ranch.”
“Right. He did mention Los Cab, too.”
“You ever met Rory Calder?”
Bradley thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. Does he own Tablas Creek?”
Naughton nodded. “His family does. Steer clear of him if you can.”
“What happened?”
“Couple months ago, Calder tried to orchestrate a coup at Los Cab.”
“That’s right. I remember Uncle Charlie saying that.”
“Calder discovered the Avilas had been storing wine in Demetria’s caves.”
Bradley knew exactly what Naughton was talking about. It wasn’t just that they were storing it there, they were hiding it. Her uncle had told her that Los Cab almost lost their bond over it.
Wineries were required to have a bond with the Alcohol Tax Bureau in order to legally make and sell wine. The bond was like an insurance policy against the winery’s taxes. Quarterly reports had to be filled, stating how much wine they’d made and how much wine was in on-premise storage versus how much they’d sold.
Evidently, one of Alex’s brothers had severely underestimated Los Cab’s production, and then tried to cover it up by hiding it in caves that hadn’t been used in years.
“The fines Los Cab had to pay were hefty, but they were put on probation and able to hang on to their bond,” Naughton told her. “There’s more to it, though.”
“Go on.”
“Calder moved the wine from Demetria’s caves in the middle of the night, and then placed an anonymous call to the ATB. The next day, when Los Cab was raided, Calder showed up and told Gabe Avila he had proof that I was the one behind it.”
“Surely they knew he was lyin
g.”
“Not right away.”
Bradley turned to look at him and raised her eyebrows. He was so close, and looking right at her. When she faced him, he ran his finger down the side of her face.
“Why not?” she asked. With him this close, Bradley was having a hard time remembering what they were talking about.
“Family history. Having Gabe accuse me was like goin’ back to the days when our families hated each other.”
“They hated each other? What about Alex and your brother?”
“Years ago, Alex’s father, Alfonso, accused my father of cheating in the Paso Zin competition.”
“It’s sounding vaguely familiar.”
“I understood how Da felt when it happened to me.”
“What happened?”
“Then?”
Bradley nodded.
“Alex’s father had a heart attack and died. Maddox stepped up and begged my father to let us help them bring the harvest in that year.”
“Because of Alex?”
“In part. I was one of the few people who knew that Mad and Alex had been seeing each other on the sly for years. But it was more than that. The vineyard owners in the valley have always worked together, no matter what. None of us could sit by and watch Los Cab struggle. I’m sure Da would’ve stepped in with or without Maddox asking him to.”
“How did they find out it wasn’t you?”
He’d started this story, and now he had to finish it, but the fewer people who knew about Lena and her marriage to Kade, the better, especially given Naughton and his brothers still hadn’t told their parents.
“Someone who knew it had been Calder came forward.”
“Sounds mysterious.”
“It is.”
“What happened to him?”
“Nothing. The problem was, there was no legal basis for prosecuting him. He’d moved the wine from the caves and delivered it to its rightful owner. Calling the ATB wasn’t illegal either. However, what the Avilas had done was.”
“Why, though? I mean, what was Calder after?”
“Land. Any way he could get it. That’s the theory anyway. Most of the land on the westside is family-owned, and will probably never be sold. With what is happening up north, the big wine conglomerates, which Calder’s family is a part of, are doing whatever they can to buy land down here. From what I’ve heard, they’re going as far as paying two or three times what the land is currently worth. If that doesn’t work, I guess we’re learning they’ll do something more sinister.”
The Secret (Butler Ranch Book 3) Page 7