Chaos Among the Vines (Romancing the Vine Book 2)

by Gemma Brocato

  He tossed the iPad on his kitchen table. It landed with a clunk. He paused at the noise and analyzed his feelings. Decided he felt no remorse for such rough treatment of something meant to ‘drag your ass into the present century,’ according to Drake. Damn it anyway, business was just fine. Then again, he might be lying to himself.

  Will eyed the stack of papers and invoices he’d left on the table yesterday. Okay, maybe fine wasn’t the best word choice. He was successful despite his disorganization. Rolling his head to ease the kinks in his neck, he admitted he could afford to be more open to technology. Especially if embracing it meant Drake would get off his back.

  Grabbing orange juice from the fridge, Will drank straight from the bottle while he studied his options for lunch. He picked up a carton of take-out Chinese. After sniffing the box, he walked it straight to the trash. Cereal for lunch it is.

  At least he had an endless supply of almond milk for it, thanks to his neighbor. They traded a bottle of wine for a carton of milk weekly, consuming another bottle while sitting on his patio, or his neighbor’s.

  As he sat at the table with his bowl of Cheerios, the iPad began to chirp and the screen lit up. What the hell was going on? There was a red button, another green button at the bottom of the screen, and his face was reflected back at him. Will picked up the device gingerly, and poked the green button.

  Avalon Reese’s pretty face filled the screen, with his picture crammed in the upper right corner. His dark hair stuck out all over his head and he had dirt smudged across his jaw. Ava on the other hand looked good enough to kiss. Today, her hair was pulled back in a tightly controlled bun. His fingers twitched with the desire to tunnel through that hairstyle and mess it up, just for the joy of touching her.

  “Will, can you hear me?” Her voice had the same raspy quality he’d noted in their previous conversation.

  “Yeah, I can hear you. See you too.” He shifted enough to push his cereal to the center of the table. Propping the tablet against the bowl, he noted how she rolled her eyes. “What?”

  “I can see the top third of your head and most of your ceiling. Lovely wallpaper you have there.”

  He glanced overhead and grimaced. The fleur de lis paper had been there when he’d bought the villa and he still hadn’t gotten around to stripping it off and repainting. Shit, he hadn’t knocked out even half the items on his remodeling list. Seeing it now, as if through her eyes, he became aware of just how . . . atrocious his home really was. Despite how annoying he found Penny, he was suddenly grateful for the way she’d volunteered to help.

  Will shrugged away the embarrassment and gratitude. “I’m guessing you didn’t call to compliment me on my decorating choices.”

  “At least you answered my Facetime call. Not so technology challenged after all.” Her beaming smile made his dick twitch.

  “Hey, I’ve seen it on TV,” he lied. He dropped his hand to his lap and adjusted his tight jeans. Shit, what if she sees me do that? He jerked his arm and pressed his palm flat on the table. Cleared his throat. “Not hard to answer when there’s a green button and a red button. Just like a stoplight. Green means go, right? But, why isn’t there an amber button, you know, proceed with caution? You can’t see who’s calling if all they show is your own face.”

  “Um . . .” By her sudden scowl, it was clear she didn’t know what to make of his question. At least if she’d seen him pawing his crotch, she was too nice to say anything. “I called to verify our schedule. Do you have a calendar available?”

  “Is there one on this torture machine?”

  “You make it sound so medieval. But until I’m there to set it up for you, I’d rather you stay off it. For now, maybe let’s use a paper version.” Her lips curled like she’d tasted something bitter.

  “That’s not very efficient, Ava.” His laughter boomed off the ceiling, the antique wallpaper not doing a damn thing to absorb the sound.

  Pretty pink color swept up her cheeks, but before she could defend herself, a very loud crash sounded. Ava’s shoulders drew tight against her ears for a second as a muffled voice came through to him.

  “I’m okay. Just dropped . . .” The last part was impossible to make out.

  Ava visibly forced her shoulders into a more natural position. “I’m sorry. I have a house guest who is a little clumsy and a lot noisy. Now, as I was saying, we need to look at your calendar and get some dates on it.”

  Hmm, he liked the idea of a date with her. He felt his eyes widen at the idea, and found he was grateful she was looking down at her fingers as she typed.

  “Gimme a second. I need to grab the calendar in the pantry. Be right back.” He rose from the chair and located the calendar on the back of the door leading to the disorganized closet where he kept his food stores. Plucking it from a nail just inside the door, he headed back to the table. He plopped the oversized monthly diary with the twelve cute kittens decorating the top page. He’d have never bought it for himself, but Penny had given it to him as a present. He turned past the page with the inscription in her flowery penmanship. To Will, who may one day find the time. She given him shit all winter long about making time for a date. There was never going to be enough time or incentive to take Penny Evans to a nice restaurant.

  “Okay, let’s look at next month. I’ll arrive in early September. I understand that’s the time of the annual crush.”

  As he flipped to the month in question, he noted the year.

  “Oh, damn,” he grumbled.

  “What?” Panic edged her voice and she stuck her face closer to the camera, as though she’d leaned into it.

  “Don’t know how to tell you, but this calendar is over three years old.”

  She slapped her hand to her forehead and mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. “Hopeless. It’s like talking to someone living in the Bronze Age.” She raised her head and readjusted her earbud.

  “Hey, I’m not hopeless. I’m trainable.” Damn him if he understood why he wanted to make her proud of him, or see that he wasn’t a complete waste of her time. “Tell you what. You let me know what dates you have for me, and I’ll make them work. Really, there isn’t anything I can’t reschedule.”

  For the next five minutes, she tossed out dates and plans. His right hand was cramping by the time she finally paused for a breath.

  “Okay, so I’ve got all this down. I just need a day or so to decipher my notes.” He scanned his messy handwriting, casting about in his brain for the meaning behind most of his shorthand.

  “I’ll send you an email with all the details.”

  He flexed his fingers and stared at the screen, jaw sagging. “Ava, why didn’t you just email all of this to me instead of insisting on doing this . . .” He waved his hand in front of the iPad.

  “I always start my consultations with a face-to-face.” Her lips pressed tightly together.

  He was momentarily distracted by a shadow sweeping past the open door behind her. Then it crossed in the opposite direction. A woman re-entered the view and leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb.

  He drew his attention away and focused on Ava. “Even your hopelessly neo-lithic clients?”

  “I have a little problem,” the woman behind her chirped. She clutched her bejeweled hand to her neck, fingers fluttering like bird’s wings.

  A scowl scrunched Ava’s face. She swiveled to address the interloper. “This is business. I’ve asked you not to interrupt.”

  “I’m sorry, but the toilet is overflowing.” She looked to the left then back to the screen where Will was certain his smiling face was visible.

  This would be interesting, seeing how Ava dealt with the kind of crisis facing her. The kind he dealt with daily.

  She jerked back to him, half raising out of her chair, so he got a close-up view of her chest. Now his dick plumped u
p and his balls freaking tingled. She sank onto the chair again. “Um, Will . . . let me call you back, okay? I’ll email the itinerary, but let’s plan on me arriving in a week’s time to get to work.”

  She rose all the way and turned toward her houseguest, displaying her plaid, pajama-clad behind in plain view. And a lovely view it was. Will clenched his jaw, not sure if it was to contain his laughter or in response to the escalating lust tightening his body at the unexpected view her luscious ass in living color.

  Ava twisted back around and bent over to peer into the screen again. The plain white shirt she wore gaped open, affording him a glorious view past her perfectly sized breasts all the way to her navel. “Sorry, but this is an emergency I can’t ignore.”

  He leaned toward the screen, nearly screaming at her to not go.

  The woman behind her bounced, as though dancing on her toes. “Ava!”

  “I’m so sorry, Will. I’ll call you back.”

  Ava reached to the left and the picture went dark, with a ‘call ended’ notification popping in the center of his screen. He slumped against the wooden back of his kitchen chair and released his pent-up breath. He palmed his dick and did a slow review of soil pH statistics for the area.

  Pretty Avalon Reese wasn’t as unflappable as he’d believed her to be. And that fact made her all the more desirable. Beneath that stiff, organized exterior lived a closet chaotic. Just like him.

  Will rubbed his hands together. Two hours ago, the prospect of her descending on him and setting his world on the straight and narrow frightened him.

  Now, he found himself looking forward to her visit

  Chapter 6

  Avalon rolled over in her bed, bumping her laptop with her hip, her reading glasses digging into her behind. She focused on her bedroom ceiling, not yet awake, not sure if she dreamed the horrific banging noise.

  The pounding came again, louder and angrier this time. The explosive thuds were accompanied by a gruff shout. “Reese, open the fucking door.”

  Light painted a path across the sedate beige carpet in her room.

  “Avalon?” Her mother’s voice and her full name skittered tentatively from her now wide open door.

  She jerked upright in the bed, wincing as her glasses gouged her butt. She twitched them free. “What the hell, Mom? Why is someone pounding on my door at—” she squinted at the clock “—six in the morning?”

  “I might—”

  A thunderous boom echoed through her small house. It sounded as if her door had broken.

  She scrambled out of the bed, grateful she’d fallen asleep before she changed into pajamas. Guinevere was rubbing off on her in all the worst ways. After digging through the rumpled bed for her phone, she raced toward the front hall, dialing 911 as she went. Guin chased after her at a safe distance.

  Avalon skidded to a stop as another concussive round commenced. She shouted, “I’m calling the police.”

  “I’d rethink that plan, sister. ‘Cuz I ain’t the one the cops will end up dragging away,” came the belligerent reply.

  Avalon depressed the menu button, ending the call before she actually placed it. She glared at her mom. “Do you have something to tell me?” she mouthed.

  “I’ll give you until the count of ten to open this goddamned door. Then I’m kicking it in.”

  Through the living room window, she noted movement, like the huge man outside was hunkering down to deliver the heel of his boot to her door. “One.”

  She looked at Guin, holding the reins of her panic with a tight tether.

  “Two.”

  Which was worse, the man’s gruff voice counting, or her mother’s lack of an answer? “Mom!” she snapped.

  Guin wrung her hands like a Regency heroine, with a woeful expression on her face. “I might have taken something that doesn’t belong to me.”

  “Three.”

  “Like what? Money, jewels?” Avalon dug her fingertips into her temple.

  “I . . .”

  “Four.”

  “Mom! What?”

  Guin huffed out a breath, her eyes widening. “I borrowed rent money.”

  “I’ll loan you money to make good on the debt.” Avalon looked around for her purse, wondering if the goon would take PayPal.

  He kept counting. “Five!”

  “For an entire year.”

  “What?” Her already racing heart kicked up to light speed. The door rattled when the goon outside sagged against it.

  “I was working for peanuts at a tiny hardware store. I meant to pay it back.”

  “Six! You will not like it if I get to ten,” Goon growled.

  “Mom, that’s stealing.”

  “I only borrowed it. When the owner found out, he promised not to press charges if I paid it back. I guess I forgot.” She lifted one shoulder in an infuriating negligence that reminded Avalon of the months right before they’d lost their home.

  Anxiety and anger surged in her body, damming up her throat and blocking oxygen. Avalon bent, hands on her knees, and tried to clear her lightheadedness. What could she do? “Do you have any money?”

  “Seven! Dammit, lady. I don’t want to cause a scene.”

  Too freaking late. Avalon was certain her neighbors had already popped corn and pulled chairs up to their windows. She had to end this.

  “Eight.” Shit! He’d sped up the count.

  Lips pressed together, she glared at Mom. Another mess she had to sort for her disorganized, dysfunctional mother. Her hand shook as she reached for the deadbolt.

  A burly man in a black leather blazer, black jeans and shit-kicker boots stood on the porch in front of her door, mouth open, as though ready to call out nine. The streetlight gleamed of his shaved head. A vicious grin stretched across his face, as if he realized he was done counting. “Good morning. Glad you understand the importance of opening the door for me.”

  Damn, his attitude was genteel and condescendingly civil. All gentleman gangster-style. He shouldered past Avalon, knocking her sideways.

  Fingers clutched tightly around her phone, she cautiously shut the door. “Are you with a collection agency?” Her spacious living room felt suddenly cramped with his hulking body standing in it.

  His scoffing laughter scored her ears worse than a rusty nail being pulled free of a plank of wood. “Nah, sister. I’m just a friend of a business owner. A man, I might add, with other highly placed friends in organizations you don’t want nothing to do with.”

  He pulled a photo from the pocket of his charcoal-gray button-down shirt. Studied it, then shifted his glance to Avalon’s face. With a tiny shake of his head, he craned his neck to look around her. His brows crinkled when he spied Guin cowering behind her. He nodded.

  When he took a menacing step forward, Avalon stepped cautiously back, nudging Mom further into the room.

  The thug glowered at Guin and held up the picture again. “Yep, it’s you. I’ve been told to collect from you. Your boss’s exact words were, ‘I’ll even take a pound of flesh from that ungrateful bitch.’” The photo waved in his hand as he made air quotes.

  He pulled back the edge of his jacket, revealing a pistol attached to his belt. His fingertip caressed the butt of the deadly thing, like it was a woman’s flesh.

  “I don’t have any money.” Mom’s voice trembled and she dug her fingers into Avalon’s elbow.

  Slipping the picture back into his pocket, he reached into his jacket and pulled his hand back with a wicked looking knife. “Pound of flesh it is then.”

  “I’ll pay!” Avalon offered. She cringed back as Bad-Ass pointed the sharp blade toward Mom’s eye, and raised her arm protectively across Guin’s chest. “Just tell me how much. I’ll write a check right now.”

  “Lady, we don’t take checks. C
ash only. With interest, it comes to two hundred grand.”

  “Jesus, Mom! Were you living in the Taj Mahal?” She’d never heard of spending so much money on rent. Her condo cost her less than an eighth of that amount each year. Where the hell was she going to get two hundred grand?

  “I treated myself to something nice for a change, Ava. I was tired of living in dumps with no heat and rusty water in the pipes.”

  Avalon bit her tongue. Now wasn’t the time to question her mother’s stupid choices. Not in front of this behemoth of a man with a serrated blade dangling casually from his fingers like it was an extension of his hand.

  She squared her shoulders. “Can we set up an installment plan?”

  Bad-Ass threw his head back and laughed, loud and long. When he finally sobered, he shook his head slowly. “I like you, sister. You have a sense of humor. No installment plan.”

  “I don’t have two hundred thousand dollars just laying around.” Who the hell would? “It will take me a while to get that much money.”

  “What do ya got here right now?”

  She rubbed shaking hands over her forehead, trying to remember how much emergency cash she had stashed in the safe buried in the depths of her closet. Maybe four thousand in ready cash she kept mostly to pay for her travel expenses. Plus some matured bonds she’d gotten as a bonus a few weeks ago. She hadn’t made time to run to the bank.

  Stupid. “I have maybe ten grand here right now. I can probably get the rest as a loan from my bank during business hours.”

  “Not a great down payment, but I’ll take it on faith. Let’s go get that cash.” He stabbed the knife in their direction, inviting them to precede him.

  She sidestepped past him, gripped her mother’s wrist, and dragged her along down the hall to her bedroom. The dude lumbered closely behind them. His fetid breath coated her neck in disgustingness. The sooner she gave him the money and showed him the door, the happier she’d be. And the second he left, she was packing Guin’s bags and sending her on her way too.