by Liz Talley
Sinking onto a soft carpet of pine needles that were flattened to such a degree they didn’t prick through her lululemon shorts, Ellery positioned herself into a relaxed pose and straightened her spine, dropping her head to her chest, closing her eyes. She allowed her hands to rest palms up on her knees. She drew in a deep breath, making herself aware of the birds chirping overhead, the earthy scent of wood and decaying leaves, filling her lungs with cool autumn air. She tilted back her head and allowed her breath to escape. She did this three times, each time feeling the tension leave her body.
“You’re not supposed to be out here. It’s private property,” said a voice to her right.
Ellery yelped, her hands going to the ground, pushing herself back.
Her gaze found Gage standing several yards away, watching her like she was a bug he wanted to squash. Or maybe that was his usual expression—bored disdain.
“What . . . I’m sorry. I needed some time to myself,” she managed to say, pressing a hand against her chest so she could stop her galloping heart. “You scared me.”
“There are signs that should have told you this area is not for guests,” he said, setting his hands on his hips. He wore running shorts and a long-sleeved athletic shirt that fit so closely she could tell he had a spectacular body. His dark hair was damp, his skin sheened with perspiration. He wore trail-running shoes, an armband with his phone strapped to his biceps, and earbuds draped around his neck. Her memory of Gage the barkeep had been spot-on.
Grumpily sexy.
Ellery lifted her chin. “I didn’t see a sign, so I wasn’t aware I was trespassing. You might want to take this up with whoever is supposed to put up signs.”
Gage’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Do I know you?”
“No. You most definitely do not know me.”
He studied her for a second or two, and she saw recognition dawn in his eyes. His mouth twitched. “Yeah, I do. Minnie Mouse.”
“That’s not my name.”
“I know it’s not your name.” He made a thinking face. “Uh, Hillary, right?”
She could feel the momentary tranquility she’d held on to slip away to be replaced with irritation. “Wrong. Not Hillary.”
Gage didn’t look as if he were in a hurry to leave her alone, so she unwound her legs and pushed herself up to standing. Brushing stray pine needles from her shorts, she folded her arms and waited for him to say something.
His mouth quirked, and it was totally sexy. But she didn’t care if it was sexy, because he was an ass.
Finally, he tilted his head. “So are you going to tell me your name?”
Ellery ran her tongue over her upper lip because her lips felt dry. His gaze caught that, and a flicker of something in his eyes gave her pause, sending a little thrill of awareness inside her. “Ellery. My name is Ellery.”
“Ah, I was close,” he said.
“But wrong.”
“But close.” He looked around. “What were you doing? Yoga?”
She shook her head. “Just centering, trying to feel myself in this space.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Oh. Well, I’m heading back to the winery. Why don’t you join me, since this isn’t part of the property where guests are supposed to roam. I know it’s pretty, but it’s still trespassing.”
Her inner rebel stamped its foot at being told what to do, but Ellery also didn’t want to be a bad guest, even if it was only to this guy who had been so quick to judge her and now was quick to hustle her out of serenity and back into the reality she so wanted to escape. “Fine.”
“I’m Gage, by the way.” He turned so that she could scoot past him. He could have turned and started walking, expecting her to follow him. Instead, he’d been somewhat gentlemanly. She’d give him a point for that.
“I remember.”
“You left your wineglasses. My cousin tried to catch you before you left. I think they’re in the gift shop with your name on them.”
She’d forgotten about them. Or maybe she had wanted to forget about them because she’d embarrassed herself driving to One Tree Estates that day. What she’d hoped to find was still a mystery . . . or not such a mystery. She’d been chasing after someone who made her feel like she mattered. If she’d paid better attention in her psychology class, she’d probably understand her inclinations. “So if you know my name is on them, why didn’t you remember my name?”
He glanced at her. “I don’t make a habit of memorizing the name of every person who leaves something behind.”
“But you knew they were mine.”
Gage shrugged. “I remembered you.”
Ellery couldn’t stop her smile.
He made a face. “It’s not what you think. You have a fiancé, and I don’t go traipsing around another man’s pasture. Unlike you, I can read signs.”
So he remembered she had a fiancé, too. Something warm and almost wonderful bloomed inside her fickle heart. Gage wasn’t the kind of guy she’d go for in a million years. His very demeanor was bristly, contentious, and somehow a challenge. But knowing he had totally botched her name on purpose—she was almost certain he had—dragged her bruised ego up at least a notch or two. “But you also remembered I had a fiancé. Huh.”
The look he gave her said more than any words, and that made her smile harder.
They ascended the hill, and he moved slightly in front of her. She noticed the way his legs flexed as he climbed, and that he had a tattoo of a dead tree with only a few green leaves on the back of his calf. Four green leaves and a vine with a single red rose. Above the tree, mountains created a space for a lone bird. It was artsy and somehow earthy.
“What’s the tattoo about?” she asked, trying to not slip on the loose rocks.
“Which one?”
“On your leg.”
He glanced back like he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Oh, uh, just a tree.”
So he wasn’t going to talk about it. But why had she asked? She didn’t care. It just looked like a puzzle . . . something that would give her a glimpse into who Gage was. Not that she cared. Of course. “It’s . . . nice.”
He turned back to her, and at that moment her foot slipped. His hand was like a manacle on her upper arm, and he caught her before she went down. Her hand instinctively clasped his forearm. The man was sinewy and strong. And warm from the sun. His torso dipped toward her, and she caught a whiff of clean soap and salty perspiration. For an awkward moment, she thought about kissing him.
Ellery straightened and released his arm, trying not to blush. That’s when she remembered that she wore no makeup and was blotchy from the earlier microdermabrasion. Her hair was a tangle, and her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. She might think Gage looked like the cat’s meow, but she resembled more closely what the cat threw up. And, of course, that was how she would look when facing the guy who’d played dodgeball with her thoughts over the last couple of weeks.
Ellery pushed her hair from her eyes. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “Sure. If you want to take a walk or find a place to sit and do your breathing exercises, there’s a curated path that runs through the adjoining neighborhood.”
Ooh-kay. So she had been slammed with an awareness of Gage, but he’d reverted to employee of the year as if she were nothing more than a total nuisance.
They reached the top of the hill, and Gage pointed toward the winery. “I think you can find your way back from here.”
Ellery glanced over at him. “I could have found my way back from the pond. I’m not directionally challenged. By the way, where are those signs that warn visitors from this area?”
Gage stabbed a finger toward a small sign attached to a tree. Ellery couldn’t make out the letters but assumed it said something about trespassing or not finding a place to center oneself when faced with a fiancé who no longer found her attractive, a mother who thought she could fix the world, and a future that felt like it teetered on a tightrope. She totally hadn’t seen the sign earlier. “Oh, well,
maybe you should put it lower or something.”
His mouth was as disapproving as a catfish. “Enjoy your stay.”
Then he turned and walked away. Ellery couldn’t help herself. She watched for a few steps, enjoying the view of a tight butt, chiseled calves, and wide shoulders.
Hey, Ellery may be engaged and in love with . . . um, Josh . . . but she wasn’t dead.
Some things deserved a second glance.
Finally, she tore her gaze away and headed back toward the house she was sharing with her best friends. She wasn’t going to think about Gage or Evan or anything else that was unsettling in her life. Center not found, but she’d pretend it was. At least for the weekend.
Time for life to deliver her some goodness.
God, she really needed something to go her way for once.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Everyone, everyone,” Rex called out, tapping his spoon on his water glass. “Let’s have a toast.”
Daphne stifled the sigh that tried to make its way to the surface. Her ex-husband had shown up sans Cindy, wearing a new Rolex and a pair of Italian loafers he’d bought last spring in Milan. Daphne only knew this because Rex had told her a few minutes before. He was sitting next to her on Ellery’s suggestion, and Daphne suspected her daughter still clung to the desperate thought she could somehow get them back together. Daphne had read a book on dealing with the dynamics of divorce and knew that almost all children hoped that their parents could reconcile. It was natural, but Daphne also knew it was now impossible. That ship had sailed. Not right away, because for a month or so, she’d clung to possible reconciliation, but after the initial panic of facing a life without the man she’d pledged to love, she’d accepted and even made sure that ship was no longer even on the horizon.
Starting over had felt like a relief, especially when she realized her new life was exactly what she wanted.
Rex cleared his throat, his smile as big as the state they were currently in. “Tonight we are celebrating my darling girl. She’s the apple of her daddy’s eye, and I’m so proud of her. Next year she’ll be in New York setting the world on fire with her designs. Get ready for Ellery Witt, people!”
“Hear, hear!” someone called.
Earlier they’d met at the cocktail bar in the distillery. Not only did One Tree Estates have vineyards and a winery, but they also distilled their own vodka. A gift shop was attached to the wine-tasting room, which sat to the side of the craft cocktail bar called Branches. Daphne had spent most of the cocktail hour chatting with Ellery’s friends, keeping an eye on Ellery, who spent most of the time checking her phone. At one point, her daughter had excused herself to step outside, and Daphne had caught a glimpse of Ellery talking to who she assumed was Josh. Tears had sparkled in her daughter’s eyes, and her disposition upon coming inside was not celebratory.
Ten of them had traipsed over to the restaurant for dinner—Ellery, Rex, Daphne, and several of Ellery’s friends. Madison’s high school boyfriend, Claire’s fiancé, and their buds had arrived to make the occasion more festive, but Josh had yet to arrive. Ellery said he was en route and would arrive before the entrée made it to the table.
“So let’s raise a glass of this delicious wine to our Ellery! Sláinte!”
“Sláinte!” everyone echoed, clinking glasses.
Ellery sat at the end of the table, looking as beautiful as she ever had. She wore a violet wrap dress that accentuated her peachy complexion and hinted at the curve of her high breasts. Her blonde hair was artfully arranged, and chandelier earrings framed her face. Her makeup rivaled any runway model’s, subdued everywhere but the eyes, which were shadowed to look smoky, a perfect background for the intensity of blue irises. But if one looked closely, she could see the strain, the doubt. Ellery’s mouth was strung tight, though she smiled often. Daphne knew it was because there was still an empty chair next to her daughter.
She wanted to kick Josh’s ass from here to Mexico. When she’d first met her daughter’s then-boyfriend, he’d charmed everyone within a mile. Josh was handsome, mannered, and utterly sincere. Daphne had not thought she could select a better fit for her daughter, but then the two had moved to Shreveport, and Josh had changed. Oh, he could still turn on his hundred-watt smile at will, but he’d been distracted and mostly absent since he’d started school.
Still, if there were a line for ass-kicking, Josh could get in line behind Rex.
Her ex was grandstanding, acting as if this weekend was his idea. That’s what he’d always done. But this time, she felt personal about his taking credit, especially after the front desk had called an hour ago, asking if his room should be billed to her account. Seems when he’d checked in, he’d said he was part of the Witt party. Daphne hadn’t wanted to make a scene, so she’d told the front desk it was fine and to add it to her card, but she would tell her ex-husband he had to change it over to his card before he left. She wasn’t paying for Rex’s room for the night. Hell to the no.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Ellery said, smiling at him with the adoration she’d always held for the man who’d spoiled her rotten. “And everyone for coming. I know it was hard for y’all to get away! So cheers!”
Everyone clinked again and then sipped the wine, conversation returning to normal.
Daphne trampled her annoyance at not being thanked. Rex, who did nothing but show up, got thanked. She supposed she’d have to settle for being “everyone.”
“Mrs. D, the decorations at our rental house are so cute,” Claire said.
Rex anchored the end of the table, and Daphne was to his right. Claire sat directly across, next to her fiancé. The two had gotten engaged at the end of college, right before Ellery. Sometimes, Daphne wondered if that was why Ellery had become so enamored of diamonds, china patterns, and bridal Pinterest boards. Ellery liked to be first at everything . . . she also liked to do things bigger and better than everyone else. “Thanks. I thought it would be festive. You know I love a theme.”
“You always think of everything. I wish my mom was more like you and thought about cute things like that. You’re so good at details. That’s probably where Ellery gets it from.” Claire unfolded her napkin and sat it in her lap. “My mama’s always on the road and losing track of things. She actually forgot my birthday this year.”
Rex raised his eyebrows. “Your mama still work for that drug company?”
“Well, Mr. Witt, they like to be called a pharmaceutical company, but, yeah, she’s still with them,” Claire said with a smile. “How are things with the AC business?”
“Perfect,” Rex said, his eyes lowering. He reached for the basket holding rolls as if signaling he didn’t want to talk about his business. Something inside Daphne reared its head. Something felt wrong. Rex was way too jovial, and now he deflected an opportunity to talk about his business? He loved to talk about himself and the company he’d built into a “veritable empire.” That was the word he loved to use. Empire.
“And you, Mrs. D? How is our favorite poodle?” Claire asked, passing the butter to her fiancé, who’d nudged her.
“Very well. Production has started on the show, and I have a new book coming out in January. It’s a Mardi Gras caper—a stolen king cake.”
Daphne felt Ellery’s eyes on her.
“Mom is about to do a book tour in a few weeks,” Ellery said, sipping her wine and trying not to look at the empty seat or her phone, which she’d set at her elbow.
Everyone around the table looked toward Daphne. She didn’t want to attract any attention to herself. Not at Ellery’s birthday party. She gave a nervous laugh. “Ellery’s doing such a good job. See? She’s promoting me even when she doesn’t have to.”
Her daughter shrugged. “Hey, I guess I’m qualified to answer emails and fetch coffee.”
An uncomfortable silence descended on the table.
Claire set her glass down. “Yeah, but it’s not too far off what you’d be doing in NYC, right? Nothing like getting good practice before being thrown
to the wolves.” Her tone was light, meant to diffuse the tension.
Instead Ellery’s eyes flashed. “Oh yes. Thanks for reminding me that I had to come home to Shreveport to practice pouring coffee.”
“Elle, you know I didn’t mean that,” Claire said, her cheeks heating but her eyes hard.
“Of course you didn’t,” Daphne said, shooting Claire an apologetic look. “And this weekend is about fun and celebrating being together, so let’s not talk about work, all right?”
Thankfully, at that moment Evan McCallum walked into the dining room and headed over to their table. He looked handsome in a pair of jeans and a navy blazer. His auburn hair swooped across his forehead, making him look boyish, and his smile was wide. “Ah, our birthday celebration. How’s everyone this evening?”
Everyone made satisfactory noises. Ellery’s face pinked, and Daphne wasn’t certain if it was because she was embarrassed that she’d made the dinner awkward, or if it was because she was on her second glass of wine. She seemed to be imbibing more than she normally did.
“Good, good. I’m Evan McCallum, one of the owners. If there’s anything we can do to make your stay more pleasurable, I hope you’ll let us know. Now where is the birthday girl?” He turned toward Ellery and smiled. “Ah, of course, it’s this beautiful lady. Happy birthday, Ellery.”
Ellery’s color had deepened. She glanced up quickly and then back down at her empty plate. “Thank you. I love what you have done with the vineyard. It’s lovely.”
“We tend to like it,” he said, giving her a nod. “I hope you’re enjoying your weekend so far.”
Ellery’s smile this time was genuine. “I am now. I have my friends and family around me, and they couldn’t have picked a better place for a celebration.”
“Great,” Evan said, smiling at Ellery, who pinked again before he moved around the table toward her mother. “And, Daphne, I wanted to thank you for reading with Poppy earlier. Made her day. Heck, made her week.”
