by Laura Wright
Anna felt a sudden scratchiness in her throat and behind her eyes, and she took a sip of wine. The man she loved had experienced some hard knocks in his life, had been forced to create a family at a very young age, and had done so all on his own, with no support. He had been expected to take the burden of his sister’s actions and his father’s actions on himself as well, but this time, Anna thought sentimentally, Spencer Ashton had actually done something good.
He’d brought a family together.
“Anna?” Jillian called from the table. “Can you give this Tupperware lid a try? I’m all thumbs today.”
Just as they had their half brother, the Ashton clan was welcoming her into their comforting fold as well. And it felt good to belong.
Anna hustled over to the table and laughingly wrestled with the Tupperware, while the men set about popping wine corks and Caroline, Mercedes, Dixie and Lara opened several baskets of food.
They stayed for just under an hour. Eating and drinking and talking about the old days when all the grown men and women around the table had been children. Strange tales of pet bees and inviting strangers to camp out on their front lawn were recounted with enthusiasm and hilarious justification. It was fun and interesting and thankfully light, and it had made Grant feel strangely melancholy. Though he was grateful to have Spencer’s murder solved and the thundercloud of suspicion removed from his head, the realization that he was free to leave Napa, free to leave the Ashtons and their home, and free to leave Anna made his gut twist.
Leaving the cool easiness of the porch behind, Grant ventured back inside the now quiet Carriage House. He instantly spotted Anna standing at the kitchen counter. She was putting empty wine bottles in a brown paper bag and looking far too sexy for her own good in a fitted white tank—that incidentally had been unearthed from under the simple sweater she’d worn that day. She was long and lean, with a backside so apple-round, it made him pant.
He went to her, snaked his arms around her waist. “Well, that was pretty damn overwhelming.”
She laughed softly. “I know, but I think they just wanted you to understand that you’re one of them, that you’re part of their family.”
“Yeah.”
She turned in his arms, faced him, her smoky-brown gaze inquisitive. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Talk to me.”
“It’s hard to figure, that’s all.”
“What is?” she asked.
“That I have a full family, sisters, brothers and a woman who wants me to call her Mom, if I’m ever comfortable with that.”
Anna slid a hand up his chest and around his neck. He loved when she touched him like that, possessive and sensual and intimate. “You don’t have to ever be comfortable with that. Caroline is amazing. She’s grown very fond of you, but she’ll understand if—”
“No, Anna. The problem isn’t that I don’t want to call her that, the problem is that I do.”
“And you feel you’re being disloyal to your own mother’s memory?”
“No.” Months of tension suddenly rushed through his body. “Dammit, I’m so messed up and confused. For forty-three years I knew who I was and where I belonged. Now, everything is hazy, you know? My future and my identity are so unclear.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Maybe not,” she teased. “But you got me anyway.”
He leaned in and kissed her. He needed her mouth and her taste. He needed to get lost in her strength and confidence and hope to God some of it rubbed off on him.
On a soft sigh, she wrapped her arms around him and tilted her head to get a better angle, get as close as she could. They fumbled with their balance, and Grant pressed her back against the kitchen counter.
When they finally came up for air, Grant plunged his fingers into her hair and whispered, “You’re going to stay with me tonight, right?”
A look of such supreme disappointment crossed her face that Grant actually felt his chest constrict.
“I want to,” she said apologetically, “but Jillian mentioned that Jack was asking for me, and—”
“No, no. Sure. Of course he is.” He sounded like a lunatic, and eased away from her to regain his self-control.
“He needs me, Grant,” she continued to explain, as if she really needed to.
Of all people, Grant understood that children came first. But the selfish bastard inside him still scratched at its cage. He turned away from her and walked over to the front door.
“I’m sorry,” she said, following him. “I wanted to be here for you—”
“Anna, you’re always here for me,” he said, turning back to face her. “It’s about time I took care of myself.”
Her face literally fell before his eyes, and he wondered if he hadn’t said that last part to elicit such a reaction, to make her feel as badly as he did about a night without her. God, he hoped he wasn’t that big of a jerk.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said quickly and with a forced smile, walked past him and out the door.
“Wait, Anna.”
She turned, her gaze a little cool. “Yes.”
“You want me to say that I need you as well, right?”
Her brow raised. “What?”
“You want me to acknowledge the fact that I not only want you, but need you,” he stated with a little too much edge. Anger and frustration needled him. It had all day, ever since he’d realized he was free to leave. And that anger and frustration wasn’t aimed at Anna, but because he didn’t know who to aim it at, she bore the brunt of his brusque tone.
“I’m sorry?” she said with a tightness to her voice. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s not good enough for me to just want you, to ask you to stay the night or—”
“Grant, I know you’ve had a hellish day,” she said defensively, “and I know you have a lot of residual anger, but—”
“Please don’t psychoanalyze me, Anna.”
She paused, took a deep breath and adopted a peaceful tone. “Grant, tonight is about Jack. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I don’t mean tonight.” He dragged a hand through his hair, turned away from her and cursed. “I’m talking about the future.”
“I didn’t know we had a future,” she said matter-of-factly.
His jaw pulsed with frustration. What the hell was he doing? Why had he picked this fight? Why had he taken the conversation here of all places—the very place he’d wanted to avoid? Was it to get her to stay the night with him at whatever cost? Or was it to make himself be able to let her go when the time came?
“My life, my future, is back in Nebraska,” he said dully.
Anna sighed as though her patience was being strained. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he repeated.
“Yes, okay.”
“Why aren’t you fighting me on this?” he said gruffly.
“Why do you want me to fight?”
He stared at her, his heart thundering against his ribs.
“Your life is your own, Grant,” she said. “Your choices, your happiness or your regrets.” Her gaze softened for a moment. “I love you, Grant. But that’s what this supposed future comes down to—a choice only you can make.”
When he continued to stare at her, she threw up her hands. “I want you to be happy. That’s all I want. But I think I’ve fought for this, for us, long enough. Maybe it’s your turn.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She turned on her heel and walked out.
From the open door, Grant watched her go and felt lonely as hell. But he knew it was a hell of his own making. If he’d wanted to send her away, make it easy on himself, he’d done a damn fine job of it.
He went inside and slammed the door. He stalked over to the table and grabbed a lingering bottle of wine, took a healthy swallow. Red current sped down his throat.
He hadn’t been drunk in twenty years or more. But after the day he’d had, maybe tha
t was about to change.
Twelve
The moon was nearly full and brighter than usual. Pale yellow light filtered in through her son’s window, illuminating his beautiful baby face.
Anna sat beside Jack’s crib and watched him sleep, watched him breathe in and out, watched him stir and smile. He was her family, her world, all she had left, and the urge to cling to him for a sense of security was almost overwhelming at times.
But she had never given in to her baser instincts—except maybe with Grant—and she wasn’t about to do it now. Her son was not her savior or her touchstone. He was her beloved charge and her life. He was young and carefree, and he deserved the very best in life, the best mother and family.
What she had to come to terms with, Anna realized, was that Jack had real ties to the Ashtons and to Grant, and that meant that Anna would have to remain in close contact with all of them for Jack’s sake. Maybe she would even check out teaching jobs in Napa when the time came, along with a few apartments in town. She had grown to love it here just as much as her son did and the thought of moving back to the city filled her with little joy.
The next few weeks were going to issue in some major changes for everyone that had been involved in Spencer’s lifetime of lies. Anna knew that to keep her head above water and her heartache under control, she just had to think ahead. For Jack’s sake as much as her own.
Images of Grant’s intense gaze as he’d uttered a very brusque, I belong in Nebraska. My life is in Nebraska, rushed back to claim her. He couldn’t have been clearer about what he’d wanted and what he didn’t need. Yet, in his manner and look, she had sensed a real tug-of-war going on inside him. Anna didn’t know if Grant loved her, but he certainly had strong feelings for her, and was actually willing to ignore them out of fear for change or a misguided sense of duty to his grown children.
She’d told him point-blank that it was his choice before walking out his door, and she was glad she had finally spoken her mind.
Anna leaned back in the rocking chair and sighed softly. She’d done the only thing she could do if she wanted to preserve some self-dignity. But that didn’t stop her from wondering what tomorrow would bring, what the future would hold and if her heart would ever be able to get over the loss of Grant Ashton.
With the calming sound of her baby’s rhythmic breathing, Anna let her eyes drift closed and let her mind shut down for the night.
No one ever sang, “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Wine on the Wall” for a reason, Grant thought inanely, grabbing another bottle of red and heading out the carriage house door into the cold night air. Drinking a case of fine merlot was near to impossible and for some strange reason, almost insulting to even consider.
But even so, Grant poured himself another glass of the dry red and hunkered down on the porch like a brokenhearted college boy with blanket and pained expression, and hoped that the one and a half bottles he’d consumed tonight would make him pass out soon.
He really wanted to put an end to this day.
“No one should drink alone.”
Grant looked up, and through a current of chocolate and oak haze, saw Eli and Cole standing by the front door, their gazes filled with amusement.
“I thought you went back to the house,” Grant muttered, noticing that his voice wavered slightly.
Maybe he was drunker than he thought.
Grinning broadly, Cole wandered over to him, sat down on his haunches. “We thought you might need someone to talk to.”
“Or two,” Eli added, standing behind his brother.
“Thanks,” Grant shook his head, and his neck felt loose enough to fall off. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Don’t be an ass, Grant,” Eli said on a chuckle. “We know how it feels to get dumped, don’t we, Cole?”
Cole seemed to consider this for a moment, then shook his head. “No, not me.”
A dark curse passed Eli’s lips. “That’s only because you’ve been a workaholic since grade school.”
“Yeah, that’s the reason,” Cole said sarcastically.
Grant released a heavy sigh. “I hate to break up this trip back in time at Cole’s winning streak with that ladies, but—”
“No one said anything about a winning streak,” Eli interrupted. “He just said he hadn’t been dumped. He only went out with one girl in junior high and high school, so there wasn’t much—”
“You’re rewriting history again, Eli,” Cole said darkly, but his green eyes burned with humor.
“What do you guys want?” Grant practically growled.
“We’re just here to hang out with our brother,” Eli said.
Cole took Grant’s empty glass for him. “Getting you through the rough night ahead.”
“There was nothing rough about today, so there’ll be no rough night ahead,” Grant uttered peevishly.
“No, of course not.” Eli sat down. “Your sister’s in jail, you don’t know if you want to go back to Nebraska and then your woman leaves you.”
Cole nodded sympathetically. “That could drive a man to drink.”
“No one left me, dammit!” Grant snapped.
Cole looked around. “Where is Anna then?”
“She went back to the cottage to be with Jack.”
“She’s such a good mother,” Eli said to Cole. “Probably be a good wife, too.”
“Yeah. Sweet, sexy and smart. Triple threat.” Cole nodded. “I’m surprised someone hasn’t snatched her up before now.”
Grant seized his glass from Cole, and quickly refilled it as he muttered something about the lack of family being a good thing sometimes.
“Jack needs to stay in Napa,” Cole continued as if nothing had happened. “He’s our brother after all. And that means we’re going to have to make sure Anna stays here, too.”
“Maybe we should find her a husband,” Eli suggested, his amused gaze flickering toward Grant. “I’ve got plenty of friends who’d love a date with her.”
“What about our CPA?” Cole suggested. “He’s a good guy, fairly young and not bad to look at, if you don’t mind the red hair and pale skin.”
Unbridled anger bubbled to the surface, trying Grant’s patience. He’d had enough of Cole and Eli. Even if it might end up being the truth, he didn’t want to hear about Anna and her future with another man. On a growl of frustration, he uttered tersely, “Get out,” and threw his glass across the porch like a spoiled child. The loud crash broke through his wine haze, and he watched as the pale amber glass shattered to the ground into hundreds of tiny pieces.
Eli stared at the shards of glass amongst spots of red wine and shook his head. “Mom’s going to have your hide for that, Grant.”
“She picked those glasses out herself, didn’t she, Eli?” Cole said.
“Yes, at an antique store in…Vermont, I think it was—a few years back.”
“An accountant?” Grant bellowed.
“What’s wrong with that?” Eli asked, a mischievous grin on his face.
Cole shrugged. “He’s an upstanding guy. Well, that could be the wrong choice of adjectives because he’s only five-four, but he’s a nice guy.”
Grant looked from Eli to Cole, then shook his muddled head. “You both suck.”
The men chuckled, and Cole said, “No, we’re just your brothers, and this is the game we play when we want a family member to wake up before he loses it all.”
“Loses what?” Grant said, frustrated.
Eli took a swallow from the open wine bottle. “Is that really a question?”
“No,” Grant muttered.
“So you going back to Nebraska or what?” Cole asked, his tone serious now.
“I don’t have a goddamn clue.”
“Ford’s married. Abby’s married. What about you and your life?”
“They are my life.”
“No, they were your life.”
“You sound like Anna.”
Cole raised a brow. “Insightful, too. Milton’s going to owe us big-time.”
Grant seethed, warned them, “If you introduce her to anyone, I’ll break both your necks.”
“Ah, love,” Eli said, then gave a pained sigh. “Ain’t it a bitch?”
“Who said anything about love?” Grant muttered.
“C’mon man, it’s written all over your face. Has been for a while.”
Grant scrubbed a hand over his face, hoping to erase whatever clues to his heart were written there.
Cole snorted. “Not to mention the fact that you just threatened our lives—well, our necks—if we try to fix her up.”
A deep sinking feeling moved through Grant. Cole and Eli may have been annoying as hell in their attempt to make him see the error of his ways, but they were right. He didn’t just want Anna, he needed her. The emotion that had his heart, had his blood pumping wildly in his veins—had him filled with excitement and happiness for the first time in a long time—was deep, over-the-top, never-going-to-recover love.
He hadn’t wanted it to happen. Falling in love had been the one thing he’d avoided at all costs, the one thing he feared above all else. After giving so much, his whole life, to Ford and Abigail, he’d really believed himself tapped out. Nothing left but a tired, middle-aged man who wanted to hold on to control for the first time in his life.
But with Anna, he felt young and alive, and as though he deserved her love in return.
“You can’t leave,” Eli said, taking another swig of wine. “Not yet anyway. We’re just getting used to the idea of you.”
“How sweet,” Grant said dryly.
Eli laughed, and Cole and Grant joined him.
“Marry that girl,” Cole said, “and move into the carriage house permanently.”
“I wouldn’t be happy in such a place so small,” Grant said without thinking. “I need wide-open spaces.”
“We have those here, you know?”
Yes, he did know.
A loud, shrill ring came from inside the house, and Eli looked curious. “Who’s calling so late?”
“Maybe it’s Anna,” Cole suggested with a grin.
Grant jumped up and hustled inside to get the phone.
