Tasting Notes

by Cate Ashwood

  “Of course, Mr. Weston. Please let me know if you need anything else.”

  He thanked her once more and hung up. He could tell she thought he had lost his mind. Maybe he had. Perhaps if he retraced his steps, he’d find it in the elevator. He wasn’t sure he actually wanted to find it again, though. His last-second decision to blow off work for the week left him feeling lighter than he remembered feeling since he started the company. He was doing the right thing.

  Marshall arrived a few minutes later in the town car, and West jumped in and rode the short distance between the office and his house. When he arrived, he dashed quickly inside, grabbed his suitcase, and threw it on his bed. He stood in front of his closet, his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. The last few years were filled with work six days a week, so his weekend attire was woefully lacking.

  His closet was one solid block of black and gray. Suit after suit after suit, which was practical for business but not so much for travel and a day at the beach. His weekend clothes consisted of one pair of jeans and three T-shirts. He decided to worry about it later, then stripped out of the clothes he was wearing, pulled the single pair of jeans on, along with a blue T-shirt, and threw the other two into his suitcase. He’d need to do a little shopping, but that was fine. He was actually looking forward to buying some new casual clothes. It was about time for him to take a break.

  He added his toiletries, then zipped up the mostly empty bag. After rolling it out to the car, he flung his suitcase into the trunk and slammed it shut. He made one last trip into the house for the urn and carried his grandfather with him out to his garage.

  His Ferrari F12berlinetta sat gleaming under the fluorescent lights. He purchased the luxury car the year before, but he put fewer than a thousand miles on it. It was time to take it out on the road and really enjoy it. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became to leave Chicago behind for a few days. His fingertips tingled with excitement as he climbed in, his hands wrapping around the steering wheel.

  It was time to hit the road.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rush whistled for Casper. The dog obediently jumped out of the truck and came bounding toward him. Rush patted his head with an affectionate “Good boy,” then rounded the back of the truck and lowered the gate so he could get at the seedlings in the bed. He’d spent the last week grooming and marking out the rows for planting.

  Even with three months having passed since Christmas, he still hadn’t quite fully recovered from the last season. He was tired, and he’d barely begun, but now was the best time to plant. If he waited too long, the weather would be too warm, and he’d risk the seedlings going into thermal shock. This was the life he chose, though, and he was happy with it. Only two years into running his own business and he’d come to love it.

  It was more successful than he originally anticipated. Recently he’d decided to expand. When he had bought the land, the previous owner had only planted on a portion of it. There was plenty of space for additional crops. It was manageable, but at the same time, it meant changes.

  Change wasn’t something Rush was necessarily bad with, but since he retired from the Marine Corps, he liked to keep life as uncomplicated as he could manage. He got up, dressed, checked on his crops, perhaps made a little dinner, and puttered around the house until it was time to do it all over again. Maybe it was boring, but boring was certainly welcome after some of the things he saw during his time as a CH53 Echo helicopter pilot.

  Two tours in Afghanistan and he was more than happy to wake up to nothing more complicated than two acres of evergreens and a dog who loved him more than life itself.

  With more than three thousand trees to plant, Rush knew it was going to take him several weeks. He could have called Sebastian and asked for help, but he was busy at the realty office, and Rush was actually looking forward to tackling the project on his own. There was a high probability he’d be feeling differently a thousand trees in, but for now he was excited about getting dirty and working with his hands.

  He worked his way down the row, systematically digging, planting, watering, and ensuring each little tree was cared for. It was mindless and methodical, and Rush felt strangely satisfied with each successfully situated plant.

  As he stood at the end of the first completed row, he placed his hands on his hips. Casper sat dutifully at his side, and a warm sense of fulfillment at the small accomplishment spread through him.

  Five hours later and he’d gotten most of one section completed. It was more than he expected to do that day, but his hands were beginning to blister, and his arms were beginning to tire. He really needed to work out more. When he left the Marines, he was in peak physical shape, but now, after living two years like a civilian, he was beginning to get soft. He made a mental note to make use of the weight bench in one of his guest rooms.

  Rush tapped his boots on the side of his truck to loosen the mud before he climbed in. It was a wet day, but he was on a schedule. His busiest time of the year passed months ago, but there was still work to be done. Casper, his Tamaskan Dog, sat on the seat next to him, his tail wagging furiously. He patted Casper’s head before he put the truck in gear. He needed to get something to eat, but more desperately than that, he needed a shower. He stank.

  When he got inside, he noticed the light on his phone flashing, alerting him to a voice mail. He clicked the button and put it on speaker as he stripped down. It was Sebastian calling to see if he wanted to grab a beer later. Why yes, yes he did.

  He jumped into the shower, quickly scrubbing off the sweat and grit from the day before turning off the water, climbing out, and drying himself. He ran the towel over his head, reminding himself once more that he needed a haircut. He grew it out, but now it was verging on floppy. That, along with the beard, made him look like a somewhat burly vagrant. If his CO could only see him now….

  He picked up his phone and dialed, droplets from his hair still falling on his shoulders as he listened to it ring. Sebastian picked up a moment later.

  “Hey, Rush,” he said, his voice warm and friendly.

  “Hey, I got your message. Beer sounds good. Definitely good.”

  Sebastian chuckled. “The Pour House? Six o’clock?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you there.”

  “You bet.” And with that, Sebastian hung up.

  Rush was happy to have a reason to leave the house, and Sebastian was good company. They met while Rush had been on his last furlough and returned home to look into the possibility of purchasing Black Mountain Farms. Sebastian worked full time as an assistant at the real estate office, and Rush took an immediate liking to him. He was quiet and polite and had an air about him that invited you to feel warmly about him.

  When Rush returned home for good, he took Sebastian under his wing and eventually into his bed. Their relationship had been short-lived, only a couple of months, and afterward they managed the impossible—staying friends. Once they decided they worked better platonically, the rest fell into place. Sebastian kept his job with the real estate office, and during the holidays when no one was buying houses, he came to work for Rush.

  The Pour House was already packed when Rush arrived. It was one of the more popular places in town, and with good reason. Bert, the owner, was a genuinely good guy who knew most people not only by their names, but by their orders as well. The food was amazing, and they had a pretty decent selection of beer.

  Rush scanned the room. Sebastian wasn’t there yet, so he grabbed a booth by the window to wait. Cherie, one of the usual waitresses, came right over to take his drink order.

  “Hey, Rush, we haven’t seen you in here in a few days.”

  Rush laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been working on a project that’s got me stuck out in the yard all day. But maybe I should rethink my alcohol consumption if I’m missed after a couple of days,” he joked.

  Cherie smiled. “It’s good to see you, is all. You’re one of my best customers.”

  “There’s that implicat
ion of alcoholism again.” He winked at her, making her blush. He had been embarrassing her by flirting with her for the last two years. She knew he was gay, but that didn’t stop the blush that crept into her cheeks every time he teased her.

  “So, club soda, then?” she asked.

  Rush laughed again. “An Irish ale for me please, and an oatmeal stout for Sebastian.” He’d had enough beers with the guy to know what he liked.

  Cherie nodded. “You got it. Are you guys eating too, or just drinks?”

  “I’m starving. But I’ll wait for Sebastian to get here before I order.”

  “Sure, no problem,” she said. Then she turned and hurried off.

  Rush looked over the menu while he waited, even though he probably could have recited it. It was good home-cooked food, and his belly grumbled. After spending a full day doing hard labor, his body craved something rich and satisfying. He was waffling between the Irish stew and the prime rib beef dip when Sebastian arrived.

  He collapsed into the chair across from Rush, his blond hair standing on end, as though he’d been running his fingers through it.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he tucked himself in closer to the table. He was out of breath, and the apples of his cheeks were pinker than usual.

  “You’re not. I was early,” Rush insisted. “Were you at the office?”

  “Yeah. We have a new guy at the firm, just moved here a couple weeks ago from Phoenix. He’s still getting his bearings, and he asked me to stay late and help him with something.”

  There was a strange quality to Sebastian’s voice. Rush couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but there was something different.

  “He a nice guy?”

  Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t really know the guy all that well… I mean, I’ve only worked with him for a few days, and most of that time he was out meeting clients with Roger. It was just him and me today, though. We were going over all the client files, so we missed lunch.”

  “You must be starving.”

  “Yup. I could eat a whale.”

  Rush laughed. “Let’s get to ordering, then. I already asked Cherie for your beer.”

  As though she’d been waiting in the wings for Rush to announce her, she glided in, the frosty pint glasses balanced expertly on her tray. “Do you boys need a minute, or are you ready to order?” she asked as she placed the beers in front of them.

  Sebastian glanced quickly over the menu before closing it. “I’m ready if you are.” He gestured to Rush.

  “Go ahead, then,” Rush said, weighing the options once more while Sebastian asked Cherie for a jalapeño cheeseburger.

  “I’ll get the Irish stew and the beef dip, please.”

  Neither Cherie nor Sebastian batted an eye at the order. They’d known Rush long enough to know he could pack away more food than a grizzly preparing for winter. Cherie nodded, not bothering to write it down, and then she was gone again, sweeping her way over to the table in the corner to look after the couple who were clearly not from around there. That was the thing with living in Canyon Creek. There weren’t many towns around, and the interstate ran right through the middle of town, so a large portion of the business for the pub and the three gas stations in town was people who were passing through. Usually Rush paid them no mind. They didn’t factor into his daily life much.

  “Did you have a good day?” Sebastian asked.

  “I spent all day planting seedlings, and my back is sore as fuck. I think I’m getting old.” The last sentence was uttered with growly undertones. Rush didn’t like to think about how many years had passed since he left home or how long it was since he left the service. In the grand scheme of things, the two years he’d been out were nothing, but as the days stretched out it felt much longer. There were times when he was bored with his quiet life, moments when he missed the adrenaline and passion of battle. But then he remembered the blood and the loss, and he knew that quiet life was what he wanted.

  “You’re not old,” Sebastian insisted.

  “Older than you.”

  “Yeah, but thirty-two isn’t exactly ancient.”

  “Old enough to feel the burn after a few hours stooped over. And I’m not even halfway done. I got more to do tomorrow and probably the next day as well.”

  “You should have called me. I could have come to help you. It would have been better than how I ended up spending my day.”

  The weird tone was back in Sebastian’s voice. Rush didn’t like it.

  “Everything okay with you? This new guy isn’t giving you shit, is he? Because if anyone is messing with you, I’ll bust them the fuck open.”

  Sebastian gave him a weak smile and shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I have the next few days off, though. I’d be more than happy to help you.”

  Rush seriously considered it for about half a second. Sebastian worked a lot. And he was undervalued and underpaid at the realty firm where he worked. He knew Roger, Sebastian’s boss, who had been a couple of years ahead of Rush in high school. The guy was a dick, even back then. Rush always thought he was greasy and underhanded. He didn’t much like that Sebastian was working for him, but he never said anything. Most days Sebastian seemed happy enough.

  “Naw, I got it. Shouldn’t take me too long. I want to get all the planting done before the roots dry out. Besides, doing a little physical labor is probably just what I needed. I’m starting to go soft.” He patted his belly beneath his T-shirt. Sebastian smirked at him, a flash of something in his eyes Rush couldn’t identify, but before he could wonder about it too long, it was gone again.

  Cherie appeared a moment later with their meals, and the two men tucked into their food, Rush shoveling stew into his mouth like a man who had spent a year on the grapefruit diet. He was not a small guy and being perpetually hungry came with the territory. When he missed a meal, he got grouchy and surly, but missing two? Cherie was lucky he didn’t rampage his way through the kitchen, devouring everything in his path like a ravenous Tasmanian devil. He was in a constant state of cantankerousness while deployed, and meals made for guys his size were harder to come by.

  He moaned around a mouthful of beef dip, the au jus perfectly salty and rich. He could feel the emptiness in his gut filling as he ate, and he was suddenly more grateful than ever for Sebastian inviting him out for dinner. They’d been getting together a lot more in the last few months than in the past. Sure, they were sleeping together when Rush first met Sebastian, but it wasn’t until after they stopped fucking that they really became good friends.

  Rush didn’t have a lot of friends and even fewer he’d had sex with. Maintaining a platonic relationship after you’d been inside another person was not always the easiest thing for Rush to manage. Hell, friendships at all were difficult for Rush to manage. But Sebastian was persistent, and Rush was happy he was. He was one of the few people Rush could stand spending more than an hour at a time with.

  They finished their meals, keeping the conversation light. Rush was tired but reluctant to leave. It was nice being out in the world, spending time with someone other than his dog and his trees. He ordered another beer and sat back, listening to Sebastian tell him a story about him and his brother when they were kids.

  CHAPTER THREE

  West’s GPS thought he was nuts. And the woman with the fake-sounding British accent wasn’t the only one either. He had called Scarlet from the car, her voice sounding hollow over his Bluetooth, to confirm she had booked him off work.

  She answered the phone in the same courteous manner she always did, and her voice warmed when she realized it was him calling. They were always completely professional with each other—she still called him Mr. Weston despite years of protest on his part—but she was the first person he hired when he started the company. She held a special place in his heart, and he was reasonably certain she knew it.

  “I figured out where I’m going, if you could please book me a hotel,” West said, steering his car onto the open freeway. It only took a few
minutes, toying around with Google Maps, before he decided on a location.

  “Of course.”

  “Eureka, California. The nav system says it’s going to take about forty hours give or take to drive there, so if you could, I’ll need a couple of rooms along the way as well.”

  “Eureka? Forty hours?” Scarlet repeated.

  “Yes.” West knew she thought he’d gone off the rails. Getting to the ocean would be a lot simpler if he went to the east coast, but he was tired of the cold that settled into his bones. He couldn’t seem to get warm, the shadow of his shirked duty to his grandfather keeping him in perpetual darkness. California was warm, it was far from home, and Eureka sounded like the type of place his grandfather would have liked to visit. It sounded quirky and happy, like he had been. When West’s gaze fell on that tiny dot on the map, he knew it was the perfect place to lay his grandfather to rest.

  “Of course. I’ll text you with the details as soon as I’ve made the arrangements.”

  “Thanks, Scarlet.”

  “Of course, Mr. Weston.” Silence fell then, and just as West was about to say good-bye, she spoke up once more. “Is everything okay?”

  Her concern for him was sweet. “Yes, everything is fine. I just need to take care of a few things, so I need a few days off to get to California and back.”

  “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  “Anything, Mr. Weston,” she said with extra emphasis. West smiled. He knew she cared about him. She was probably fifteen years older than his thirty-five, and she always had a maternal quality about her that West found endearing. It was one of the reasons he hired her in the first place. Her motherly nature, paired with her quick wit and sass, made her an enjoyable person to have around the office, and her qualifications made her perfect for the position. West didn’t know if he could do his job without her.