Kade's Worth (Butler Ranch)

by Heather Slade

  There was an open bottle of wine sitting on the kitchen counter and Peyton poured herself a glass. The house was too quiet without her boys around. They wouldn’t have been up this late, but she still could’ve sneaked into their room and watched them sleep, run her fingers through their hair.

  Like most Friday nights, they were at her parents’ place in Paso Robles and she wouldn’t see them until Sunday. Unless she drove out there tomorrow. If she got there early enough, they could go for a horseback ride before she had to get back to Stave for the early afternoon tastings.

  What are you doing? The text on her phone startled her, although it shouldn’t have. Alex Avila, her business partner and best friend, often sent texts right around closing time.

  Having a glass of wine.

  Will you be up for a while?

  Peyton laughed. Why did her friend even bother asking? Most Friday nights they ended up either here or at Alex’s place after Stave closed.

  Yep.

  Be right over.

  It was forty degrees outside and with the wind off the ocean, it felt colder, but Alex still walked in wearing jeans and a sleeveless shirt. Peyton stopped asking if she was cold years ago since Alex’s response was always that the red hot Hispanic blood running through her veins kept her warm.

  Peyton and Alex had been friends for years. Her parents became friends with Alex’s when they bought a ranch and decided to turn half of it into vineyards. Alfonso Avila, Alex’s father, sold Peyton’s dad rootstock and helped him produce many fine wines.

  She and Alex had been scrawny “beanpoles” when they met—tall and lanky, before both their bodies matured and filled out. Apart from their stature and thin but curvy bodies, they were total opposites. Peyton was a green-eyed blonde, and Alex had long dark brown, almost black, hair and eyes that matched.

  “You seem antsy,” she said, pouring her own glass of wine.

  “Kade’s back.” Peyton waited for some reaction, but Alex didn’t have one. “You already knew?”

  “Addy told me.”

  “I should’ve known since you asked what I was doing rather than just coming over.”

  “I’m sorry I took the night off. You should’ve called. I would’ve come in.”

  “He just flew in, so…”

  “And he came straight to Stave.”

  Peyton smiled and refilled her wine glass.

  “So when are you two going to stop pussy-footing around and do the nasty?”

  “Charming, Alex.” Peyton rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this countless times. We’re friends.”

  “Friends that can barely keep their hands off each other. The temperature goes up twenty degrees when you’re in the same room.”

  Should she tell Alex about the email Kade sent a few days ago? Peyton hadn’t, knowing she would just rib her more.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “For Kade and me?”

  “No, for Mickey and Minnie Mouse.”

  “There isn’t one. We both agreed we’d see each other soon.”

  “I’d ask if you thought he was too old for you but I think it’s the other way around.”

  Peyton put a hand on her hip. “What’s that mean?”

  “He may have a decade on you but, girl, you were born thirty.”

  Alex was twenty-nine just like Peyton was, and while Kade wasn’t ten years older, he was nine.

  “Why do you hang out with me if I’m such an old bag?”

  “I make you act closer to your age, and you do the same for me. If we didn’t have each other, I’d behave like a twenty-year-old and you’d be going out for dinner at four with the senior citizens.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “How long have the two of you been dancing around each other?”

  “We’ve been friends since the first pairing dinner when we featured Butler Ranch wines.”

  “Right after your divorce.”

  Peyton nodded.

  Alex stared at her. “Four years ago.”

  “What?”

  “You haven’t had sex in four years.”

  “Thanks for the reminder. Hanging out with the senior citizen crowd my memory fails me sometimes.”

  “Peyton, that is too long.”

  “I don’t see you leaving Stave with a man on your arm every night. When’s the last time you had sex?”

  Alex suddenly had a great interest in her chipping nail polish. “We aren’t talking about me.”

  “No, we never do.”

  “All I’m saying is, ask him out or something. If he’s not interested then tell him to quit comin’ in sniffin’ around. Give the other gents a chance.”

  “Gents. As in?” Cambria wasn’t exactly a hotbed for single men—any that were under fifty.

  “Peter Wells from Lark has made it very clear that if you merely look his direction, he’ll propose marriage.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “And you need to get laid. The boys are with your parents, why didn’t you invite him over tonight?”

  There was no way Peyton would answer considering she’d have to admit wondering the same thing.

  Alex downed the rest of the wine in her glass and rinsed it in the sink. “See you in the morning.”

  “Morning?”

  “One is close enough to noon to be considered morning.”

  4

  As much as Kade wished he could sleep past sunrise, it was rare for him. It had been ingrained in him from his years in the military.

  After a run on the beach, Kade walked across Pacific Coast Highway over to Main Street to grab coffee at the diner. He arrived at the same time the owner pulled a tray of ollalieberry and cream cheese muffins from the oven.

  “Ah, you’re back. Good to see you, my friend.”

  When the man came around the counter, they embraced. “Hello, George.”

  “I have berry and peach this morning.”

  “One of each, please.”

  George grinned and handed him a bag that held two of each. When Kade tried to pay him, he shook his head. “Thank you for your service, my friend.”

  When George turned his back, Kade stuck a twenty in the tip jar and then looked out the window in time to see Peyton walking into the market across the street. If he timed it right, he might be lucky enough to share the muffins with her.

  “Wait two minutes and then cross at the corner.”

  “What’s that?”

  George pointed across the street. “Miss Peyton will…” He looked at the clock and waved his hand. “Go, my friend, or you’ll be too late.”

  Kade didn’t hesitate. Any chance he got to come face to face with her, he’d take. He ran across the street at the corner, and just as George predicted, Peyton walked out of the market and in his direction.

  She raised her hand to shield the sun. “Kade?”

  “Good morning, Peyton.”

  She took a deep breath. “Oh my God, are those ollalieberry muffins?”

  “I’d be willing to share if you have time.”

  “I don’t want to eat half your breakfast.”

  Kade opened the bag and held it out for her to see.

  “You must be very hungry.”

  “It’s George. I order one and he gives me four.”

  “He appreciates what you do very much.”

  George came to America forty years ago from Poland, and settled in the seaside village. Less than a year later, he became a US citizen. A photo commemorating that day hung above the diner’s cash register. It was for people like him that Kade vowed to serve and protect. People like Peyton too, and her sons. It was never easy for him to accept praise for something he felt he was called to do.

  “Where were you headed?” Peyton asked.

  “Nowhere in particular.” He pointed behind Peyton toward the park.

  “Are you going to the ranch today?” she asked when they sat beneath the old oak tree that was the hallmark of the community gathering place. Instead of swings and slide
s, this park had shuffleboard and bocce ball.

  “I am.”

  “My boys are with my parents. I thought I might try to sneak in a ride before I go into Stave.”

  A ride sounded really good. He couldn’t remember the last time he saddled up and threw a leg over. But, he knew better than to ask to join her. Without it needing to be said, he had no doubt that Peyton wasn’t ready for him to meet her boys.

  He laid a napkin on the ground in front of them and pulled out the muffins. He smiled at the look of anticipation on Peyton’s face. Her appreciation of the taste and smell and texture of food was one of the things that had attracted him the first night they met.

  “Go ahead.”

  “You go first.”

  “Same time.” He counted to three and they each reached for a muffin. Peyton took a bite and groaned, reminding him of the sound he’d made the night before, tasting the food at Stave.

  “I guess you were hungry.”

  Peyton smiled, looking him up and down like he’d done to her. “Very.”

  Kade could’ve sat under the tree with her all day, but after twenty minutes, he stood, brushed himself off, and helped her up. He held her hand a little longer than necessary after she was on her feet. “I don’t want to waylay you from your ride.”

  She looked at the ground and then off in the distance. “Thanks for the muffins.”

  “Thanks for joining me.”

  “Kade?”

  “Yeah?”

  Peyton shook her head, talking herself out of whatever she was going to say. “I’ll buy you a glass of wine the next time you come in. Actually, warm ollalieberries call for a bottle.”

  “I’ll take you up on it as long as you agree to share it with me.”

  She motioned back toward the market. “I should get going.”

  Kade wanted to pull her in his arms and give her the kiss he knew damn well she wanted, but he didn’t want the first time his lips met hers to be in the middle of a park in a place where every single person who walked by, knew her. Most probably knew him too, or of him anyway.

  “I’ll see you later, Peyton.”

  She waved as she walked away.

  He took his time walking back to Moonstone Beach, lingering on the wooden boardwalk that stretched the length of the drive. There weren’t many surfers out this morning, even though the waves looked good. He shivered with the thought of how cold the water must be. There was a time that no level of frigid temperature would’ve stopped him from paddling out on his board.

  At almost forty, two years shy anyway, he’d gotten soft, something he’d never admit to his brothers in arms. Seventy-two hours ago, when he was in the soaring temps of the desert, he would’ve given anything to be able to jump into the icy cold Pacific Ocean. Tomorrow, he’d quit being such a pussy and get out there; today he needed to go and see his parents.

  The drive over the pass on Highway 46 was one of his favorite in the world. The rolling hills, dotted with murky green oaks, were covered in what his father always referred to as “California gold.” Another ten miles and vineyards would replace the honey-colored grasses.

  The views from the summit went south beyond Morro Rock and north to Hearst Castle.

  His grandfather, Broderick Butler, emigrated from Scotland in his early twenties and settled in this area, where he found work as one of several hundred craftsmen hired to construct what Hearst referred to as La Cuesta Encantada—Spanish for “Enchanted Hill.”

  There, Broderick met his wife, Kade’s grandmother, Analise, a seamstress who also hailed from Scotland.

  The two scrimped and saved until they had enough money set aside to purchase the ranch land further inland from Hearst’s spread. That land was passed down to Broderick and Analise’s only son, Laird—Kade’s father.

  It had been Laird’s dream to retire and concentrate solely on making wine. Kade remembered hearing his parents talk about it when he was a teenager. Even then he doubted his father could give up his “day job.”

  Burns, as those in the intelligence community knew him, was the preeminent authority on tradecraft—the techniques, methods, and technologies used in modern espionage. Kade’s mother wasn’t the housewife and stay-at-home mom most of their neighbors believed she was either. Sorcha was a former MI6 agent who’d infiltrated the Provisional Irish Republican Army, better known as the IRA. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d heard the story of how she was at the Oxford Street bus station on Bloody Friday.

  Kade had five siblings—three brothers and two sisters—all younger than him. It made him sad to think that he was the only one of the six who knew their mother’s and father’s real back stories. Given that his father was still active, Laird believed it too dangerous for anyone outside the intelligence world to know what he did or the importance of the work he and his wife did in that community.

  As far as what his next two oldest brothers, Maddox and Naughton believed their father had been a winemaker and vineyard manager just like they’d become.

  Maddox was renowned in the area for the traditional wines that came out of Butler Ranch, but Kade knew he wanted to experiment with new varietals, new techniques. Their father found his brother’s ideas “too risky” when the entire family relied on the income their tried-and-true vintages brought in.

  The truth was, neither Kade nor his two sisters relied on any income from the ranch. What would have been their share was always put back into the vineyard’s working capital without their three brothers’ knowledge.

  Kade would love to see what Maddox could do if he had his own land, his own grapes. As brilliant as Mad was with making wine, Naughton was equally accomplished at growing the grapes that went into it. He was known in the industry as the vine whisperer. Drought, pest infestation, whatever else plagued the vineyard, Naught figured out how to overcome it. Vineyard owners around the world begged Naughton to share his secrets.

  Like Maddox, if Naughton had his own land, could make his own decisions about what he grew, what would he do? Kade knew it would be nothing short of fantastic.

  He’d been waiting until they were ready before he revealed the surprise he’d been sitting on for the last fifteen years. They weren’t quite there, but when they were, he’d blow their minds.

  There were things his brothers could never know, though, like how he came to own what he planned to bequeath to them. Those secrets needed to stay buried deep—much deeper than those of his parents.

  Of course there was also the matter of who currently lived on the property, but thinking about that would take him down a path of the worst kind of memories—ones he had no interest in thinking about today.

  Kade turned off the main highway onto Adelaida Trail. The meandering road, lined with oak and eucalyptus trees, weaved its way through endless rows of vineyards and wineries.

  He rounded a bend and the land where he’d grown up, cut his teeth, became the man he was today, sat in front of him.

  He veered off the road, threw the truck into park, and rested his head against the seat. Was Butler Ranch the place where he became the person he was now? Or, was it his years of service that molded him into the man he saw in the mirror every morning?

  He loved the ranch, particularly growing up on it, but he’d never wanted to inherit it. Did his parents think he was turning his back on his legacy?

  He could never see himself returning here to live. He had a home two hours south in Montecito, and if it weren’t for one very beautiful, very intriguing woman, that’s where he’d be right now.

  He put the truck back in gear, approached the ranch’s gate, and waited for it to open. Once he drove through, it closed so quickly it almost hit his back bumper. Kade smiled. More of his dad’s handiwork.

  The drive led him along the vineyards that were planted mostly with Cabernet Sauvignon and up to the main house.

  It was built in the style of a historic Scottish Highland farmhouse with a dressed granite facade under a slate roof. The four front dorme
rs were embellished with black shutters, which repeated on the windows of the main level.

  After inheriting the ranch from Kade’s grandparents, his father added a porch, which wrapped around three sides of the abode so, regardless of the season, he and Sorcha could sit in the sunlight. In the center of the u-shape the porch formed, sat a courtyard with a small pond and an archway that led to a path to the original barn, which had been converted into part of the winery.

  His father added two Scottish-style stone cottages, both two-storied replications of the main house. Like the original barn, many of the other outbuildings had been re-purposed for the winery. What had once been a hayloft was now an apartment with a barrel room below. When he slept at the ranch, which wasn’t often, that’s where he stayed.

  He parked near the front steps and was halfway up when his mother came flying out the heavy wooden door. “Thanks, Blessed Father, my boy is home.” Sorcha put her hands together and looked up at the sky.

  His mother might be little but she had the force of a hurricane.

  “Hi, Ma,” he said, picking her up and twirling her in a circle. “Gráim thú.”

  She smiled and pinched his cheek. “I love you too, my Kade.”

  “Did I hear Kade?” asked his father, joining them on the porch.

  “Hello, Da.” The two men embraced.

  Both his parents knew he’d flown in last night, but neither would call him out on it. They understood his need to decompress better than anyone in their family.

  “Have you eaten?” his mother asked, putting her arm through his as they walked inside.

  “I stopped by the Ollalieberry Diner.”

  “And?” She held out her hands.

  “Next time, Ma.”

  She raised a brow.

  He leaned in close. “I shared the muffins George gave me with the second most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “Peyton?” his mother whispered.

  Kade put his index finger in front of his lips and she looked over to his father. They’d both known Peyton since she was a “wee lass,” as his mother would say.