by Maisey Yates
“Maybe,” Bea agreed. “But I suppose before I do anything I need to pass this class.”
CHAPTER SIX
THE NEXT DAY was Bea’s day off, and Lindy asked her to come to the winery and help with a large group coming in for a bachelorette party.
When Bea arrived at the main dining room, she had a strong sense of déjà vu. Not only was Lindy in the office, so was Sabrina, Bea’s older sister, and it was so rare that the three of them were ever together anymore at the winery that it felt a little bit like old times. Back when Lindy had lived here, and Sabrina hadn’t been consumed with the tasting room. Back before either of them had gotten married, and given a significant portion of their free time over to their husbands.
Back before Dane had been injured.
She could almost see him walking through the door, healthy and smiling. The way he had been.
It was interesting to have a good memory at this place. And it didn’t surprise her entirely that the good memories centered around the time when Lindy had taken over the winery. Not when the Leighton family had been in charge.
“The tasting room in Copper Ridge is busy all through tourist season now,” Sabrina said, happily. “It’s even kind of busy outside tourist season. All of your expansion endeavors seem to be paying off.”
Lindy nearly preened. Except of course, she didn’t need to. Since her blond hair was pulled smoothly into place, her appearance was immaculate. She dressed casually more often than she ever used to, since life on the ranch was hardly conducive to a life spent in high heels. But when she came into the winery, she was still perfectly pressed Lindy. Sabrina was the same.
Bea felt small and frazzled by comparison. She knew her hair was doing what her hair did. She kept it short because it was so thick that if she ever let it get longer than her shoulders she could break a comb in it. But she had to keep it at least chin-length so that she could scrape the curls back into a ponytail if she needed it out of her face.
Still, she never looked as poised as Lindy or Sabrina did when they put their hair up. Her hair never looked sleek and glossy. Just unruly, and vaguely like a spiraled carrot.
Normally, she didn’t care. Not at all. And she certainly didn’t waste time on comparison. Though, sometimes it hit her, stark and clear, that she was the cuckoo in the nest. A metaphor she might have liked—given her affinity for animals—were it not for the connotations. That she didn’t belong. That she wasn’t one of them. She’d felt that way long before she’d discovered the truth about her paternity, and in the years since she’d learned the truth it had been driven home undeniably. All in all, she mused while watching the two perfectly polished women discuss business, it wasn’t that much of a surprise that she wasn’t a Leighton. Not really.
Sabrina might be kind and caring, and a lot of fun, but she knew how to hone herself into a necessary image when need be. Damien was the consummate networker. It was why he had gone into business representing rodeo riders and garnering endorsement deals. A hint of rebellion toward their parents by getting involved in something somewhat lowborn, as they would see it, but he had gone on to be so successful at it they could hardly stay angry.
Though, she imagined they had been angry about his losing the winery, but she wasn’t privy to conversations like that.
Bea was the loan fuzzy peg in a set of sleek holes. And she’d decided to make space outside of those holes because what was the point of trying to fit when she already knew she didn’t?
“You’re not working my brother to death, are you?” Lindy asked, and it took Bea a moment to realize that Lindy was talking to her.
“Me? No. He offered to help me with my chicken coop.”
“Your chicken coop?” Lindy asked, eyes narrowed.
“Yes. There’s one right around my cabin. I thought how handy, because I got offered some rescue chickens.”
“You were offered chickens.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re going to have chickens at your cabin.”
It occurred to Bea then that this was Lindy’s property. She knew that. The manicured section of the winery felt very much Lindy. But that wild, overgrown space that Bea inhabited felt very much hers. She had meant it when she had told Lindy that she didn’t want the big house at the winery for herself. But she realized that she did think of parts of the property as her own. She always had, to a degree.
Those spaces that no one ever walked but her. They had always seemed like Bea’s sanctuary.
She was really going to have to talk to Lindy about the animal refuge. The very idea terrified her.
The whole of the grounds belonged to Lindy now, thanks to that infidelity clause in the prenuptial agreement she had signed with Bea’s brother.
A foolish thing for him to sign, since there was clearly nothing but infidelity in the marriages of the Leighton family.
As Bea stood, a living testament.
“You won’t even hear them. My cabin is set back so far... No one will ever know.”
“I suppose so,” Lindy said, her tone wary. “But the chickens are not allowed in my house.”
“Why would I ever bring chickens into your house?”
“Dane said that you brought Evan into the house.”
Bea frowned. She was going to punch Dane next time she saw him. Okay, she wasn’t going to punch Dane. But it made her feel better to think it.
“I have never brought Evan into the house.”
Lindy let out an exasperated sigh. “Then my brother is a liar. But you did give him a dog. And he has the dog in the house.”
Yes,” Bea said. “But that’s normal.”
“And you acknowledge that raccoons in the house are not normal.”
Bea thought of the frequency with which Evan inhabited her house.
“It’s not normal,” she conceded. “And I know to keep my eccentricity confined to my own space.”
“What made you think of getting him a dog?” Lindy asked. “Out of curiosity.”
Bea shifted. “There wasn’t a lot of thought that went into it. Not really. I mean, you know how it is for me. Animals just kind of find me. And this animal happened to find Dane and me at the same time. I thought the dog would be a good companion for him.”
“So you didn’t give my brother a dog. You coerced him into rescuing a dog. You have a strange kind of magic, Bea,” Lindy said.
“Lindy,” she said, before she could think too terribly hard about it. “Did you mean what you said about me and the house on the winery property? You know, since my family used to own it. And, all of that.”
Lindy frowned. “Of course I meant that. I mean it for both of you,” she said, looking at Bea and Sabrina.
“Okay. Well, I don’t want the house—”
“If you ever feel like you want more of a say in the business...”
“I don’t,” Bea said. “I’m not really going to be doing as much at the winery in the future. It’s just not where my particular interests or strengths are at. I don’t dislike it, but...”
“You’re not really a wine drinker.”
“No. And I like being outside. And I don’t like nylons.”
“Nobody likes nylons,” Sabrina said.
“Well, I’m going to make life choices that ensure I can avoid them forever. I don’t want any of the business. I just want use of the section of property behind my cabin. Across the river.”
“I mean...” Lindy frowned. “We don’t use it.”
“I know,” Bea said. “So I thought that maybe since you don’t I might be able to.”
“What do you want to use it for?” Lindy asked.
“This is the part that you probably won’t like. I want to use it for an animal sanctuary.”
Lindy blinked. “Isn’t it...kind of already one? Isn’t there already a raccoon wandering my winery?”
“How would this be different?” Lindy pressed.
Bea had spent all last night weaving plans in her head but she didn’t have a ton of practice with explaining her plans to people. That part of herself felt more than rusty after years of disuse.
“I would be renovating some existing structures and building some new ones. We would probably need more direct access to those pastures. And it would be... Well, people would know that I was taking animals. Instead of me just happening upon them.”
“That is very much a you problem,” Sabrina pointed out.
“I would have to think about it,” Lindy said. “I mean, it would probably be pretty separate from the rest of the winery. But I worked really hard to make this place a certain...”
“You want it to be fancy. And I understand that. I promise I won’t get my...Beatrix-ness all over it. I just want the one spot. I suppose I could get my own plot of land. Or I could buy that section from you. Maybe we could partition it off.”
Bea understood that for Lindy the idea of class was sticky. Bea had been born into money and she’d never cared one way or the other what anyone thought. Lindy had been born without and had spent a lot of years trying to prove she was good enough. In that way, Bea could relate, even though her particular point of insecurity wasn’t people worrying about how classy she was.
It came from the same place though.
From being afraid to feel small.
Bea could be sympathetic to that.
Lindy sighed. “I don’t feel good about that either. I’m not using that part of the property, and I don’t want to profit off it. It’s just the proximity of animals and the tasting room and all of that.”
“I really do think it’s far enough away. You haven’t ever seen Evan over here, have you?”
“No,” Lindy conceded.
“And anyway, the other animals won’t be free-range like he is. There’s not much I can do about a raccoon. But I’m going to keep the chickens very secure, in part because of Evan. Anyway, Lindy, you know there’s animals all over the place out here. You probably have bears wandering through the grapevines every other night. It’s just that you don’t know about them.”
Lindy’s eyes went wide, a small crease denting her forehead as her brows shot upward. “You think I have bears wandering through the grapevines?”
Bea nodded. “You totally do. You should ask Wyatt if you can borrow a game camera and set it out here overnight.”
“Everything here is so well kept.” Lindy pressed a hand to her chest, as if she were looking for pearls to clutch.
“That doesn’t matter. Animals don’t care if it’s manicured or not. If there is space available, they’re going to occupy it.”
“Okay, I take your point. Anything out here... We are going to have some animals.”
“Plus, there’s the river that runs through the property. That’s a big-time animal magnet.”
“Of course. It’s just that I never really thought about that before.” Bea didn’t understand how you couldn’t think of something like that, but she wasn’t going to press the issue.
Sabrina’s face seemed to light up, then her lips twisted into a half smile. “It would really irritate Dad. To know that not only did Lindy end up with the winery, but Bea started a full-on animal sanctuary on the property. When he never even let you have pets growing up.”
Such a fundamental way her father had never understood her. That she needed that extra companionship. Would have given anything to have a dog to follow her around the property.
Or maybe...maybe it was a chicken-and-egg situation. Maybe she wouldn’t have needed the dog so bad if her dad was the kind of dad who could understand that she did. It was impossible to say.
“If it doesn’t work then I can shut down the operation. Or, I can refuse certain animals that end up being too much trouble. Or have too much smell.”
“Smell,” Lindy repeated.
“Well, farm animals are farm animals,” Bea said.
Lindy looked aggrieved. “You know that I’m never going to be able to shut down your animal sanctuary once it’s open.”
Bea’s lips twitched. “Well, yes, I kind of do know that.”
“Beatrix,” Lindy said, shaking her head. “I didn’t know you were evil.”
“She has that Leighton stubbornness,” Sabrina said, and Bea felt gratified that her sister, at least, looked entertained.
But of course, Bea didn’t have Leighton stubbornness. It was just her sister didn’t know that.
All of Bea’s openness from a moment before suddenly felt silly. And so did she. She wasn’t who anyone thought she was.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Anyway. You don’t need to make a decision right now. I’m not expecting you to. But...”
“But you want this,” Lindy said softly. “And if you want it then I support you.”
“I guess it’s the closest thing to a dream that I even have. And I didn’t really know that I wanted to do it. Dane was teasing me and... Well, that was when we started talking about it.”
Lindy’s eyes narrowed. “You and Dane were talking about it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I didn’t know he had an interest in...that kind of thing.”
Bea had a feeling that what Lindy meant was she didn’t know that Dane ever talked to her. Which was fair enough. He hadn’t much. Not before the accident. They had done a lot more talking to each other since then. They had been around each other a lot more.
And she wasn’t ten years old anymore.
“Well, I will definitely consider it. More than consider it. I want to do it. Because I really appreciate your heart, Bea. And I think that it’s only fair that you get some use out of this property. I just have to...”
“I understand,” Bea said. “The winery is your dream. And you’ve worked really hard to make it into everything you have.”
Lindy’s hesitation didn’t come from being a snob. Not like her parents. It wasn’t about that. She had legitimate concerns with whether or not a rescued cow fit in anywhere on the property of an upscale winery, and Bea got that.
Bea spent the rest of the day alternating between trying to keep her focus on work, and spinning wild fantasies about the sanctuary. And then worrying about whether or not she was taking on too many new things at once. She had never considered herself a very ambitious person. In comparison with the rest of her family, she had always felt out of step that way. So it was weird to suddenly want so much. All at once. She had just never considered herself like that, and she was beginning to wonder if she was gnawing on something she was never going to be able to fight through.
By the time she was finished with the relatively easy work in the winery dining room her brain felt crispy from the tedium and from being indoors. And seeing the window to her cabin’s living room thrown wide open when she got home did not help her mood one bit.
“Evan,” she growled, then stomped into the house. The pantry was ransacked. Torn granola bags, decimated cereal boxes and shredded candy wrappers had been left in Evan’s terrible wake.
And the door to her room was open.
She gritted her teeth, irritation creeping up her spine and rolling over her shoulders.
“You...grimy...snack bandit,” she muttered as she began to make her way through the room.
When she got to her room, she saw a ringtail disappearing out the window, which he could obviously also open now.
She dashed to the open window and saw Evan scuttling away with some of her intimate clothing.
“Evan, you jerk!”
She dashed out of her bedroom, and out the front door, rounding to the side and going after him. He was fat, and not the fastes
t moving creature, but even so, he had disappeared quickly enough into the trees. She held on to the skirt of her white dress, holding it up, and charged into the woods after him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DANE HAD A date with a chicken coop, and he couldn’t find Bea anywhere. She wasn’t answering her phone, and that wasn’t like her.
He parked his truck in front of the house. Her truck was there. He walked up slowly to the front door of the cabin, and noticed it was cracked open. He pressed his hand against the rough wood and pushed it open.
And saw the mess that was strewn out everywhere. It looked like the place had been burglarized. For a second, his heart seized up, fear clawing at his chest. Had something happened to her?
The thought made him feel murderous. Made him forget his leg hurt at all. If someone had come into this place and done harm to Bea in any fashion, he’d show that bastard just what he was made of. Metal rods, muscle and rage.
And the man who dared cross Dane wouldn’t like it.
He couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to rob Bea’s cabin. But he supposed Bea herself could have been a target, if not any of her earthly possessions.
The idea made adrenaline and fury spike through him.
He went toward her bedroom, where her dresser was completely pulled apart, and the window was open.
And then he remembered.
Evan.
Evan liked to get into the house and steal food and in general make a mess. The raccoon could get through the windows, he and Bea had discussed that, and Dane had even gotten some locks for them a couple of days ago. Of course, he hadn’t gotten around to installing them.
And then he heard shouting, filtering through the trees. It didn’t sound like terror. It sounded a whole lot like feral rage.
Dane chuckled and walked out of Bea’s bedroom, making his way out the front door and heading toward the sound of the indignant yelling.
The sound of rushing water mingled with Bea’s yelling, and Dane smiled a little bit broader.
Bea sounded as if she was fit to be tied, and he couldn’t remember ever hearing her sound that angry. She was such an even-tempered person. Not low-key, necessarily, but her emotions tended to reside on the positive end of the spectrum. She got frustrated with him sometimes, but she didn’t yell.
