by Kim Karr
Her eyes popped. “Why not?”
The reasons were legitimate, but I felt foolish saying voicing them out loud. “We’ve had a lot on our plate. So anyway, how’s Emerson?”
She smiled. “The baby is the same as she was three days ago. Sucking on my tits, pooping, and crying.”
I laughed. “You make motherhood sound fantastic.”
“It is. Really it is,” she assured me. “Exhausting, too though. At least Grayson helps out a lot or I don’t know what I’d do.”
“Still helping out with the feedings?” I exaggerated my wink so my lashes fluttered.
Tabitha licked her chopsticks seductively. “Oh yeah. I think he figured out it’s the only way he’s getting any until the kid sleeps through the night.”
I laughed so loud the other patrons turned their heads. “Smart guy.”
“So,” so said, “Lane and Christian don’t fuck. Do you and Tyler have the same arrangement?”
I stopped with a piece of sushi halfway to my mouth. “Why don’t they . . . have sex? And what arrangement are you speaking of?”
She lowered her voice. “Their marriage is a business arrangement and Lane says sex makes business way too messy. You know, the whole, don’t fish in the company pond thing. They can step outside the relationship to fill those needs, though, however, never with the same person twice. And it has to be discreet, of course.”
My eyes went wide.
“Tyler drew up their contract.”
My eyes went even wider.
“He drew one up for you, too. Didn’t he?” she asked, with another point of her chopsticks. The implications that they were probably very alike was in her tone.
“Yes, but to be clear, I’m the one who told him no sex but it isn’t stated in our contract.”
“Oh.” She shrugged and drank some of her hot tea. “Why would you do that? I mean, I get why Lane wanted it, but I didn’t think you were into girls.”
Surprised, I tried not to choke on my food. I had no idea about Lane. I patted my chest, feeling the dog tags there and thinking of Tyler. “Trust, I guess.”
She nodded. “You know he’s not the same as he was back then. Growing up has calmed him down a lot.”
I nodded.
She sat back and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “No more cliff diving,” she joked. “And after he crashed his last motorcycle, he didn’t get another.”
I shook my head. “I had no idea he’d gotten into an accident.”
She scrunched her nose. “Don’t tell him I told you.”
“I won’t, I promise. But it’s that recklessness in him that has always worried me. It’s like he doesn’t value his own life.”
Tabitha pushed her beautiful, long blonde hair over her shoulder so she could lean forward again. “I think growing up with his fucked-up father messed with his head but it’s been years since the guy died and I think time has helped Tyler a lot.”
I got that.
I really did.
I picked up the soy sauce and sprinkled it on my plate, even though I didn’t really need anymore. “I know he’s changed. I can see that, and I think I’ve changed my mind about the no sex.”
“Have you told him?” she said, glee filling her features. Tabitha was probably one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met. That, along with her confidence, they made people take notice of her.
I finished my rice and drank my mineral water, thinking about the whole contract thing. The no-sex clause wasn’t included. Hmmm. “Do you think I have to?” I asked.
“Um . . . yes, men are dense sometimes and if you don’t spell it out, they don’t get it.”
I laughed, again drawing attention. “Oh, God, I never thought of that.”
She took another sip of tea. “Want to go lingerie shopping? My mother has the baby and Grayson is at work.”
I bit my lip. “Actually, I do need to go shopping, but for work clothes.”
The waiter set the check on our table and Tabitha pulled it toward her. “Work clothes? Boring.”
“Tyler looks incredibly hot in a suit and I feel a little under dressed.” I looked down at my jeans and sweater. “When I was in L.A., I worked in a super casual office, so I don’t have anything considered dressed up.”
“Oh, work clothes.” Tabitha winked and drew a deep V down her cute cashmere sweater.
The emphasis she put on the word work put a huge inappropriate grin on my face. I had never been one for shopping. In truth, I may have grown up with a wealthy father, but he was never generous, which was how I’d taken to vintage. Ten years ago, vintage was cheap. Now, not so much.
“I get it. You want to wow him,” she said.
I nodded. “Yes, I guess I do.”
She poked my plate with her chopsticks. “You’re going to seduce your husband in a power suit. I like it.”
I reached for the check. “I hope so.”
Tabitha waved me away. “I got this.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“You get the next one. And I know just the place to take you to get that power suit.”
I looked away. “The thing is, I don’t have a lot of money right now to spend on clothes.”
In truth, I never had.
She gave me a look that told me she knew my entire situation, but there wasn’t an ounce of pity in her eyes. “I’m not sure if you know this about me, but I went to law school with Tyler and Lawson.”
I brought my gaze back to her face. “No, I didn’t.”
She nodded and dropped her American Express on the leather portfolio. “I figured Tyler would have forgotten to mention that. Men. But I worked for Albert Dane for almost two years before I got knocked-up and I have a closet full of work clothes.”
“And you still have them?” I asked.
“I actually thought I would go back to work after I had Emerson, but once I did, everything changed, and I decided not to. I really like staying home with her and being there when Grayson gets home from work.”
“That’s really nice,” I said. “I never had anything like that, but I bet both your husband and daughter appreciate the time you give them.”
She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “I know we don’t know each other well, Paris, but you shouldn’t let your past define your future.”
I thought about what she said.
Was that what I was doing with Tyler?
With my life?
And if it was . . . was I too broken to change it?
Paris
I HADN’T PLANNED on a mini makeover.
Before we went to Tabitha’s house, she insisted on swinging by Anna James. Not being a frequenter of Calistoga, I assumed she meant a friend.
As we drove down the road with all the ritzy shops, I glanced at them. There was Peruvian bedding, Italian shoes, English stationery, fine chocolates, and French clothing stores.
“Oh, damn, I passed it,” Tabitha said as she hit the brakes.
I looked out the window as she made an illegal U-turn and discovered Anna James was not a person but rather a salon.
“Tabitha, what are we doing here?”
“Just a little change, that’s all.” She parallel parked at a meter and hopped out, peering back in. “Come on. This will be fun.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea. I have to get back to work. Tyler is waiting for me.”
“Tell Tyler this is my wedding gift and I needed you to open it now.”
Trepidation had me moving slow. Still, I got out and followed her. With a shiver, I pulled the lapels of my coat tight.
“Brrr,” she said when she noticed the way I’d bundled, “Grayson and I really should move somewhere warmer.”
I laughed. “Like Bora Bora.”
“Exactly! See, we get along brilliantly.”
The hair salon was on the corner and had huge double glass doors leading the way in. Stepping through them, the air smelled incredibly clean with only a slight undertone of chemicals. So
ft music played and there was a bar with wine and champagne.
I’d been in my fair share of salons in L.A., but this was nice in a different way. More sophisticated and less trendy. Everything was muted colors. Soft. Inviting. There were a dozen or so hairdressing stations with giant mirrors and separate color and sink areas.
Tabitha walked up to the reception desk, her high heels making a clicking noise as she did. “Hello,” she said to the girl behind the counter with the blue hair.
Oh, God. Blue and red made what color? Purple? Maybe I should tell Tabitha this wasn’t a good idea.
“Hi, Tabatha,” the receptionist smiled. “Patrick was thrilled when you called. Let me just tell him you’re here.”
Patrick was Patreek.
“Thank you.” She smiled and turned to me. “You are going to love Patrick. He’s the best around.”
I patted at my hair. It was a little messier than usual but that was because I had to rush this morning and didn’t have time to wash it. “I’ve never had color put on my hair,” I told her.
She gave a little shrug. “Talk to Patrick and do whatever you feel comfortable with.”
A man came out of the back wearing black skinny jeans and a white collared shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel. He had shiny black hair and dark glasses, and he smiled at me like he’d just won a million dollars. “Zo,” he said in an accent I thought might be Brazilian. “You must be Paris.”
“Yes, I am,” I replied, pulling the ponytail holder from the back of my head.
His dark stare narrowed as it locked on my wild locks and they came free. “So, what are you thinking,” he said, running his fingers through my tangled mane, or trying, anyway. “Oh, my,” he said when they got caught.
I gulped, feeling like a science experiment. “I’m not sure.”
“No worries. My chair is this way,” he announced, pointing to the very last station. Now, his words were more like, “No vwrorries. My char zis thus wayyy.”
Tabitha grabbed my hand. “I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see what he does with you.”
That made one of us.
I sat in the chair and watched as Tabitha plucked a bottle of champagne from the bar, along with two glasses.
It wasn’t long before Patrick came around and struck a pose against the mirror. With his arms crossed and his chin dipped deep in study, I knew he was picturing all kinds of crazy things.
Feeling nervous, I ran my fingers through my hair like he had, hoping it would untangle a bit before he attempted that feat again.
As he pursed his mouth, I realized he had grabbed color samples and was contemplating. “Purple?” He raised the color strand.
Adamantly, I shook my head no.
He held up another color swatch. “Maybe blonde, like Tabitha’s?”
Speaking of blondes, the mentioned one popped the cork and screamed, “Oh, that could be fun.”
I shook my head even more vigorously this time. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She pouted, “Why?”
“Too much upkeep.”
Her lips twisted as she poured the off label champagne. “Oh, that’s true.”
Another color sample was pressed to my head. “Black, like mine?” Patrick offered.
And the shaking of my head continued. “I think I like the red.”
He nodded. “Yes, I agree. It suits you. I can work with it. Smooth it out and shine it up. It will be magnificent.”
I took the flute Tabitha offered because I knew I was going to need it.
Magnificent sounded like it got a whole new meaning the way he said it.
Tyler
I FOUND BEING in Wilhelmina’s company less distasteful than I had before.
It could have been the vantage point from higher up or that I was realizing just how fucking hard it was to run this place.
Then again it could have been because I had Paris to occupy my mind and there wasn’t a lot of room for the resentment I carried around with my head so full of her.
Paris.
The girl who worked in the vineyards like it was the most natural thing in the world yesterday.
Paris.
The sun shining on her like an angel.
Paris.
The wind blowing all that red hair and it swishing around her like a violent storm.
Fuck, this girl had me fucking tripping over my own boots. Did she even know she could bring me to my knees with just one of those smiles? The real one. The one that didn’t come often.
I wanted to change that.
I wanted that a lot.
“Tyler?” Wilhelmina waved her hand in front of my face. “Tyler?”
I looked across the desk. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“Okay, just checking. I thought you called me in here to discuss something, but if you’d prefer to continue daydreaming, I can leave?”
Normally, this bickering banter we did fed my bad attitude, but today I didn’t feel like trading insults with this woman.
Odd. That bad attitude wasn’t even hungry.
I handed her the document I’d found in Malcolm’s shit.
She lowered her reading glasses and gave it a glance. “Okay, so you found a survey from over fifty years ago. What exactly do you want me to do with it?”
Patience was something I normally had little of, but today I took my time explaining to her what I’d discovered.
In the middle of my discussion, my phone finally went off with a text from Paris. She’d gone to lunch with Tabitha hours ago and had yet to return. Not that I cared. I wanted her to make friends. But she had been gone a long time.
I flipped my computer around so Wilhelmina could compare the surveys and gave my phone a quick glance.
Her: I’m home. [smiley face emoji]
Me: Home? Decided not to bother to come to work today?
Her: I will be working from home. It’s not my fault I’m banned from my office. [face with stuck-out tongue and winking emoji]
Me: You have disciplinary issues that need to be addressed. I told you to have Tabitha drop you off at California Jane.
Her: Feel free to spank me.
Me: Watch it, Love. I’ll be home soon and you’ll be paying the price.
Her: Can’t wait. And P.S. Bring dinner. The oven is broken. [bowl of pasta emoji]
Can’t wait?
Spank her?
Was she serious?
Minutes later, another text came through.
Her: I had a mini makeover today. What do you think?
A picture came through of her smiling and she looked like a complete fucking bombshell.
Me: You look beautiful.
She always looked beautiful to me.
My day had been far less exciting without her around and then she sends me this?
I wanted to send her a pic of what she’d done to me. Did she have any idea what kind of trouble she had just invited? It was as she was just begging for me to fuck her the minute I walked through the door.
Christ, I had a hard-on just thinking about it, and I was sitting in front of my grandmother. Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it. I just hoped like hell she didn’t notice.
“Tyler.” Wilhelmina demanded my attention.
I flipped my phone over and glared up.
“This could change everything,” she said, her eyes darting from my phone to my face and back with mild interest.
I sat forward trying to arrange my dick without her noticing. “Yes, it could, but any chance you know if grandpa might have had the originals?”
She shook her head. “There’s no way your grandfather knew anything about this. I can promise you that. He’d never have sat back and allowed Vince Gable easy access to the highway if he’d known.”
Albert Dane had said the exact same thing and they were both right. Still, I had to be certain. Albert wanted the original survey to present to a judge since the one in old man Malcolm’s stuff was
a copy. “Any idea if he kept any of the documentation from around the time he and old man Malcolm started the process of pursuing the purchase of the land?”
She tilted her head. “Why don’t you go to the Recorder’s office and pick it up?”
“I tried. It must not have been archived properly and it hasn’t been electronically documented yet, either. I’m hoping Grandpa had a copy.”
“The only place I can think of is possibly down in the wine cellar at home.”
“Where in the cellar?” I asked, knowing I’d been down there a million times and never seen any place where documents might be stored.
She glanced at her diamond watch. “There’s an old storage room behind the wine racks. Everything had to be reorganized when he installed the climate control system down there and he needed that space. If he kept anything from way back then that hasn’t been destroyed, that would be the only place it could be.”
“Great. I’ll check it out this weekend.”
She glanced at her watch again and that’s when I noticed she was wearing jeans. My grandmother never fucking wore jeans.
Was she retiring or something?
And if she did, when was she going to tell me? It wasn’t even five yet, so what the fuck was the rush. “Got somewhere to be?” I drawled.
The old lady’s cheeks flushed and it wasn’t because of the blush I was used to seeing her wear. “Actually, I do. Buck offered to take me over to Highway 128 to oversee the removal of the barrels from the cave.”
Both of my brows popped. “Yeah, the tanks took longer than we thought to relocate this morning and the crew is working until sunset to get whatever else they can over here.”
“Yes, I know that, and I’d like to see the condition of the barrels before they’re all moved, so unless there’s anything else of pressing importance, Buck is waiting for me out front.”
Buck?
Buck Wallaby and Wilhelmina.
Wow, I never saw that one coming.
I gave her a wry smile. “No, by all means, go on. Let me know what you think of the condition of the barrels.”
I purposely dragged out the word condition.
She was flustered again. “I will, and Tyler,” she said getting to her feet.