by Cate Ashwood
“Good afternoon,” the man said, ignoring the venom in Rush’s voice. “I’m West. I’m new in town—”
“I thought you were leaving.”
West looked confused.
“I saw you at the pub last week. Cherie told me you were staying with Rosie overnight, but then you were leaving.”
Rush watched the realization dawn on him.
“That was the original plan, yes, but plans occasionally change. I’ve decided to stay awhile longer, as I’ve recently made an investment in the area.”
“Investment?” Rush was becoming more and more suspicious of the stranger.
“Yes. I purchased a winery on the west side of town.”
“Lennox?”
“That’s the one.”
“You bought Lennox Hill?” Rush narrowed his eyes, the wariness building in his chest.
“I did, yes.”
“I wasn’t aware it was for sale.”
“It wasn’t. But I stopped in on my way out of town, and I found the place charming. So I made an offer, and Charlotte and Jim accepted. They seemed quite excited. Now that they don’t have a winery to run, they’re moving to Palm Springs to retire.”
Rush was dumbfounded. Dumbfounded and angry. He tried to force his brain to function, to form the right words. First, he couldn’t believe his parents hadn’t said anything. No one bothered to call him, to run the idea past him that they’d be selling his childhood home and moving hours away. That vineyard had been run by his mother’s family for three generations, and with one swift strike, this asshole used money to push them out.
“Actually, that’s the reason I’m here. When I told them I didn’t know anything about how to make wine, they suggested I contact you.”
“What?”
“They said other than them, you knew that vineyard better than anyone.”
Rush glared at him, the rage cresting over him. “Get the fuck off my property.”
To his credit, West didn’t flinch. Instead he nodded, then calmly turned and walked away. Rush slammed the door for good measure and stalked back into the kitchen, where he found the phone he left off the hook. He picked it up and yelled into it.
“What took you so long?” Sebastian asked, seemingly unfazed by the outburst.
“That fucking dipshit from the pub showed up at my house. He bought Lennox Hill and wanted my help learning how to run it.”
“Holy shit. I knew he bought it, but I didn’t know he’d end up at your place.”
“You already knew?”
“Yeah. I’ve been trying to call you for days. I knew you’d want to know. You seemed put off by the guy the other night, and I didn’t know if your parents had a chance to call you.”
“They didn’t. I thought they would have told me something like this. It’s not exactly a small decision.”
“To be fair, it was quick. The deal only closed yesterday. Gavin, the new guy, got the account. It was quite the commission too, from what I’ve heard. Rumor around the office is that your buddy paid them a little over five million.”
“Dollars?” Rush could hardly believe it. He couldn’t fathom someone throwing that kind of money around, just for fun. The guy said himself he didn’t know anything about wine making. Why would someone with no experience purchase a vineyard? Nothing about this added up.
“Yep.”
“What a fucking asshole.”
Sebastian laughed, which only pissed Rush off even more.
“I have to go,” he growled, wanting to hang up before he said something to his friend he’d later regret.
“Call me later if you need anything,” Sebastian said, all humor from earlier erased.
Rush softened a little. It wasn’t Sebastian’s fault any of this was happening. In fact Rush actually had little reason to be upset about it at all. “Sorry I’m a dick.”
“It’s fine. I understand you’re unhappy about this whole thing.”
“I am, but it’s my parents’ decision. I can’t say I’m thrilled about it. And even less thrilled this guy is sticking around, but Lennox Hill is on the other side of town. No reason I should have to see him.”
“What’s your problem with this guy, anyway? I’m not saying you’re wrong not to trust him. I’m wondering why.”
Rush paused and thought about it. It was a knee-jerk reaction, a gut feeling he had when he saw the guy for the first time, and Rush long ago learned to trust his gut. It had saved him, and many others, more times than he could count.
“I don’t like him. I don’t like the way he looks or the way he carries himself. He’s entitled and spoiled. He’s probably down here spending Daddy’s money. I bet he’s never done an honest day’s work. Guys like that have everything handed to them on silver platters, and they take what they have for granted. Who walks into a winery and drops five million? The business and property can’t be worth more than two or three. Clearly he’s also an idiot. Well, good for my mom and dad. They made out like bandits in that deal, but they traded her family’s legacy for it. I don’t like it.” Rush sighed.
“Maybe you should call your mom. Get her side of things.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Rush conceded. “I’ll call her now.”
“Okay. My offer from earlier stands. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks, Sebastian.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Rush hung up the phone and sat down at the table. Everything that had happened in the past half hour was a lot to process. Casper trotted over and lay at Rush’s feet. “Sorry, bud,” Rush said, leaning down to pat him. “I didn’t mean to make all that noise. Everything’s good.”
At least he hoped it would be. He picked up his phone once more, now that his blood pressure had returned to normal, and dialed his mom’s number. She picked up on the third ring.
“Robert, sweetheart, how are you?”
“I was wondering if you’re free to grab a coffee with me this afternoon.”
“That would be lovely. I’ve been wanting to have a chat with you anyway, so I’m glad you called.”
“Three o’clock sound all right?”
“That would be fine. Well-Bread?”
“Sure. They have my favorite muffins,” Rush said.
“I will see you there, then.”
Rush hung up the phone, still feeling a little sick to his stomach. He grabbed a quick shower and changed, not wanting to sit through coffee in sweaty clothes. By the time he dressed, he had just enough time to get to the café.
He walked in and was immediately hit with the scent of freshly baked bread. Realizing he never got around to actually making himself lunch, he stepped up to the counter and ordered a sandwich for his mom, two for himself, and a couple of muffins for good measure. He grabbed the plates once the food was ready and carried them over to a table near the window, where they would be able to look out over the dog park across the street.
His mom arrived a few minutes later. She wrapped her arms around Rush’s wide shoulders in a hug before taking her seat across from him.
“I got you a turkey and avocado sandwich in case you’re hungry,” Rush said, gesturing to the plate in front of her.
“Thank you, Robert.”
“So, I hear there have been some big changes over at Lennox Hill.” Rush took a bite and chewed slowly, waiting for her to respond. He was trying as hard as he could not to fly off the handle. His blood was still simmering as he thought about the smug son of a bitch who showed up on his doorstep earlier that day.
“Oh, yes. It was unexpected, and it wasn’t an easy decision, but your father and I think it’s what’s best for us. We’re getting older, and running the vineyard is a lot of work. Young person work. It was time to make a change. Have you met that nice young man from Chicago?” his mom asked, breaking Rush’s moment of thought-rage.
“Once, yeah.”
“Oh, good. I think he’ll make a fine owner for our little vineyard.”
“I’m in s
hock, that’s all. You up and decide to move without any thought?”
“You’re being presumptuous. Of course we gave it thought. It’s not a choice we made lightly.”
“You made it without talking to me.”
His mother shot him her patented watch-your-mouth-or-I’ll-wash-it-out-with-soap look. “You think we’re incapable of making decisions without your input? We made all the decisions when it came to raising you, and you turned out… well… on second thought…,” she teased.
Rush grumbled and shoved a piece of muffin into his mouth.
“You don’t need to worry. This is the right thing to do. Your father and I both agree, and we’re hoping you’ll be supportive.”
“But the business has been in your family for decades,” Rush protested.
She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It has, but the time has come to pass it on to someone else. We’ve been discussing retiring for a while now. This was the excuse we needed.”
“But you could keep it, hire someone to run the business side of it.”
“To what end? You are the only family we have. We asked you when you left the military if you wanted to take it over. You told us no, that you have your own business, your own life. We wanted to respect your wishes. We couldn’t saddle you with more responsibility than you wanted. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
Rush thought about it. He was tempted to say yes, he had, if only to keep his parents from handing it over to West, but he really couldn’t run two businesses on his own. He shook his head.
“This is better for everyone. Your father and I have always talked about retiring to Palm Springs. It’s what’s what will make us happy.”
Rush didn’t like to admit it, but she had a point. He just never thought they’d sell. He assumed they would want to keep it, but there was no arguing with happiness.
“Smile, Robert,” she said, reaching across the table and lifting his chin. “This is a positive thing—a new chapter in our lives and an exciting one. Palm Springs is still in the same state. We will be back to visit. And I’m hoping you and West can be friends. He seems like such a nice man, and I’m sure he could use your help with the vineyard. He didn’t seem to know much about it. Heaven knows why he’d want to buy a winery.”
Rush nodded. He was feeling a little swamped. Rush liked constancy, routine, and something he assumed would stay the same forever was suddenly gone. Two of the people he felt closest to were unexpectedly moving, and nothing he could say or do would stop that. Besides, he didn’t think he’d want to stop them even if he could. His mom seemed excited, happy to be leaving Canyon Creek. It wasn’t an emotion Rush understood, but he loved her and his father and he wanted them to be happy above all else.
Whether or not he and West could become friends was a foregone conclusion. The guy was a dipshit, and Rush wanted nothing to do with him. Period. End of discussion.
CHAPTER SEVEN
What the hell had he gotten himself into?
West stood in the center of the wine-making room, surrounded by large tanks and equipment he didn’t understand.
And what was that smell?
He wasn’t quite sure how wine, something so delicious, could come from a place that smelled this… potent. It defied logic. He walked out of the wine room, exited through the back door, and walked the short distance across the gravel path to the house that sat on the property. When he purchased the vineyard from Charlotte and Jim, they agreed to leave all the furniture in place, as they wouldn’t need it in Palm Springs. It wasn’t exactly West’s taste in décor, but he wouldn’t be staying long enough for it to matter.
He’d gone temporarily insane when he purchased the business, struck by a startling wave of wistfulness. His short visit to Canyon Creek was the first time since his grandfather died that West felt any sense of comfort. Wanting to hold on to that feeling for as long as possible, he did something he vowed never to do—he rushed into a business decision based on emotions. It was uncharacteristic, but despite the fact that he knew nothing about how to run a vineyard, or wine making of any kind, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Sure, he could hire someone, bring in the best of the best. There had to be a winemaker for hire out of Napa, surely, but West wanted to give it a go on his own first. He’d conquered the world of venture capitalism before his thirtieth birthday. How difficult could growing a few grapevines be?
He sat down at the large carved oak harvest table in the dining room and booted up his laptop. There had to be instructions somewhere on the Internet. YouTube? A wikiHow article? Something.
When the first website he opened started their instructions with Wine making doesn’t only have to be for hoity-toity connoisseurs…. West knew he was in the wrong place. An hour of further searching didn’t yield anything better. He needed help.
Charlotte and Jim suggested he ask Rush for guidance, but that request was met with what could only be described as a volatile reaction. West wasn’t sure what he had done to piss him off, but apparently it was unforgivable. Yeah, maybe he’d been staring a little bit when he stopped in at the pub his first night in town. He couldn’t help it. Rush was a difficult man not to notice. And West definitely noticed. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Rush was a homophobe and didn’t take kindly to being ogled over dinner. But West could have sworn the guy he was having dinner with was gay. It didn’t add up, but West wasn’t going to waste time crying over it.
There was a solution; he just needed to find it.
West spent the rest of the afternoon brainstorming ideas. After having exhausted most of the Google results, he gave up for the day. There was no point in going on when he felt this fried. There had to be a way to make his new acquisition work for him. He just needed to get creative.
Tomorrow.
He opened his e-mail and sent a quick note to Scarlet to let her know he’d be detained from returning to the office awhile longer. He requested that Helena and Alex continue to act in his place, but that he receive periodic reports on what was going on in his absence. His associates were a godsend, and he was lucky to have them. West had no reservations about placing his company in their hands while he was gone.
He stood and stretched, his joints stiff from sitting in one position for too long. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and he realized he had been so caught up in research he forgot to eat. There was no Scarlet here to bring him lunch and remind him he needed to take care of basic human functions.
Having been in town for a little more than a week, West had already exhausted most of the restaurants nearby. Almost all were good, but tonight he didn’t feel like sitting alone at a table in the corner, being stared at by curious townspeople wondering what the hell he was still doing in their little village. He had seen a grocery store not too far from his new property, and although cooking wasn’t something West did often, he was sure he could scrounge something up that would be very nearly fit for human consumption.
He grabbed his jacket and keys and set out for the store.
The parking lot at Gleason’s Market was nearly empty when West arrived. He parked off to the side and climbed out of his car. After grabbing a cart near the front entrance, he pushed it through the automatic door with more effort than should have been required to keep the hunk of metal on a steady course.
This was the first time he’d been there, but it was set up much like the grocery stores he’d shopped at once or twice in Chicago. He proceeded to fill the basket with everything he thought he would need for the rest of the week. Coffee was on the top of the list. He hadn’t had a latté since he left Chicago, and since he doubted very much that Starbucks had a location in Canyon Creek, he needed something to soothe the deep-seated craving for caffeine. He made a mental note to look into buying a proper coffeemaker he could use to make his lattés, but for now, plain old drip would have to do. Desperate times.
He still didn’t know what he was going to throw together for dinner and parking himself in f
ront of the meat counter didn’t yield any new ideas either. He didn’t know how chefs did it. To come up with a variety of different dishes seemed both daunting and horrible. Coming up with one was bad enough.
He wandered up and down the freezer aisle, hoping something would jump out at him. Eventually he grabbed a box of frozen meat loaf. The directions on the back of the package seemed easy enough. All he had to do was throw it in the oven and wait. Even West could do that. Now all he needed was something to go with it.
He migrated to the produce section and picked up a bunch of carrots and a bag of potatoes. He was fairly certain all he needed to do was boil those to make them edible. He felt accomplished, throwing them into the cart, like he had somehow mastered the art of domesticity with those small gestures. He knew that was far from the truth, but it was the closest he’d ever come.
He surveyed his choices and realized the potatoes would be bland without butter or sour cream. Backtracking to the dairy case, he easily located the butter. The sour cream was on the top shelf, and when he reached up for it, he heard someone call his name.
Surprised, he dropped the tub, and it crashed down at his feet, splitting open and spraying thick cream up the front of his pants.
“Uh, never mind,” Rush said, staring blatantly at the spattering of white across West’s groin. “I can see you’re otherwise occupied.”
“No, it’s… you startled me.”
“I startled you?”
“Caught me off guard. I didn’t think anyone else was in here.”
“Maybe you’re not aware of how grocery stores work. I’m sure back home, you have people who shop for you, but here we all do our own shopping, so just so you know, often you’ll see more than one person in the store at a time.” His tone was snide and abrasive.
West shouldn’t have been surprised by the snarky comments. After the way Rush reacted to him at his house, the sarcastic remark was downright neighborly in comparison. But this wasn’t something West was accustomed to. People didn’t speak to him that way. Ever. His anger began to build. He opened his mouth to say something when Rush reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.