The Crush

by Heather Heyford

  Time was his enemy. The time he had left with her was too short. Once he was gone, the time it would take to forget about her would stretch out endlessly.

  She snuggled closer to him. “What are you thinking about?” she asked in the husky tone of a woman thoroughly satisfied.

  After a pause, he said, “You. How you’re so strong and resilient. How, no matter what happens, you always land on your feet.”

  She giggled. “You sound so serious, all of a sudden.”

  “This, coming from the most industrious woman I know.”

  “Thought you said your sisters and your mom were the most industrious.”

  “They don’t count. They’re not women, they’re my relations.”

  She laughed sleepily. “What’s your idea of the perfect woman?”

  “What kind of a question is that?”

  “Humor me.”

  He considered. “Soft, yet strong. Smart. Independent. One who has interests, whose life doesn’t revolve around me.”

  “That first day you came to my run-down tasting room, I had you pegged as a man who needed to be the center of attention.”

  “I’m pretty selfish. And a flight risk. I like the freedom to pick up and go at the drop of a hat. I warned you about that the day we met. And did I mention I’m selfish?” There was one thing good about the dark—Junie wouldn’t be able to see his face when he said what he was about to say.

  “But no one can whip up a mean omelet from old cheddar and expired eggs like you can,” she said.

  He huffed a soft laugh. The circles her finger drew on his belly felt way too good. He didn’t want to start something he didn’t have time to finish. Gently but firmly, he removed her hand and tangled his fingers with hers.

  “When I stay in one place too long, I feel trapped. Then I leave, and someone gets hurt. That’s why it’s best not to form attachments.”

  “What happened to you, to make you like that?”

  “I was the only son. It was taken for granted that I’d take over the family business. But I wanted to be a builder. I told my dad I wanted to go to college to be an engineer or something. It wasn’t a matter of not being able to afford it. He wouldn’t even consider it. So I left. I’m just like your brother.”

  “That’s not why Storm left. Storm didn’t have any ambition. He was looking for something to do with his life that didn’t take a lot of effort.”

  “Our family didn’t even take vacations. We couldn’t leave the restaurant, because it never closed. I wanted to explore the world beyond Hoboken.”

  “Well, you’ve fulfilled that goal. Didn’t you say you’ve been to almost every continent?”

  “Five out of seven. It’s unrealistic to think I’ll ever make it to Antarctica, but Australia? I’d do just about anything to go there. Even have a head hunter working on it.

  “My next assignment’s not too shabby though,” he said as lightly as though he were talking about the weather.

  There was a pregnant pause.

  “Well. Aren’t you going to tell me where it is?”

  “Ever hear of Belize?”

  He felt the comforter shift as she propped herself up on an elbow. “As in Central America? That Belize?”

  “There’s only one, so far as I know.”

  She laid down again, withdrawing her leg from where it had been wrapped around his.

  He felt like a spark plug that had lost its contact point.

  “Good timing,” she said brightly.

  By the sound of her voice, she’d turned her head to the wall. “While I’m bundled up in my hoodie in the next few months, you’ll be wearing board shorts.”

  Manolo lay on his back with his arms at his side and tried to pretend that he wasn’t a world-class cad. It wasn’t like he was breaking any promises. She’d known the rules of the game going in.

  From the other side of the bed, he heard a single sniff.

  Junie said, “Your lease is up soon, isn’t it?”

  “You remembered.”

  The covers rustled. “Did you honestly think I could forget?” came her voice, now closer to his ear.

  He rolled onto his side, his hand inadvertently brushing across her breasts. Delinquent that he was, he couldn’t restrain himself from stroking their gathered tips with his knuckles.

  The thing that really got him was, she let him.

  “How soon?” she whispered.

  He rolled onto his back, interlocked his wayward fingers across his chest, and stared up at the ceiling. “I leave tomorrow.”

  The light had subtly changed without him noticing. He was able to make out the shadowy corners where the ceiling met the walls.

  He turned to search for her face, expecting to see tears, but there were none.

  “This is tomorrow,” she said in a voice that did not crack.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Mid-September, Belize

  Manolo shuffled his feet as he walked in the warm sand, the gentle trade wind ruffling his hair. To his left was the white-crested Gulf of Honduras. To his right, a woman in a bikini.

  His orientation week had just ended.

  “Do you have any lingering questions?” Amanda asked, cocking her head provocatively.

  “I’m good,” he replied absentmindedly, looking out to sea.

  “I was thinking of going to the beach bar and getting another Carib. Want to join me?”

  “Do you think they got any pinot over there?”

  The tinkling sound of her laughter came to him on the sea breeze. “Belize and fine wine aren’t words you usually hear in the same sentence.”

  “Sure, I’ll have another beer. Why not?” He shrugged. He didn’t have anything better to do.

  At the bar, Amanda made an admirable effort at small talk. “A proper infrastructure is crucial for the local community here. You’re providing a great service.”

  “Great,” replied Manolo, peeling the label off his Carib.

  “Manny?”

  “Huh?”

  “Did you even hear what I said?”

  “Yeah. I’m providing a great service.”

  “That’s right. I’m really excited you’ll be here for the next six months.”

  “Me too.”

  “Are you?”

  He scowled. “Sure I am.”

  “Because you seem to be a thousand miles away.”

  Two thousand six hundred seventy-three miles, to be precise. He couldn’t help it. All he could think about was Junie.

  He wanted to violate his number-one policy, to call her up and ask her how the first full week of crush was going, if the guy she’d hired to man the bistro was working out, her impression of last year’s vintage now that it’d been safely bottled and stored, and a hundred other details.

  But if he was going to forget her, he had to cut himself off, cold turkey.

  “Manny?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’d I just say?”

  “Something about the catch of the day. What were the choices again?”

  “Queen lobster or grouper.”

  “You order for me.”

  For once in his life, food was the last thing on his mind.

  Chapter Forty

  Autumn, Clarkston, Oregon

  When Manolo left town, Junie felt as if she were sinking gradually to the bottom of a well.

  He’d never promised her a thing he didn’t fulfill. He’d said he would make her tasting room the talk of the town, and he had. He’d promised to have the bistro finished in time for the crush, and he had. He’d told her he was a vagabond, and he was.

  Work was her salvation. There was a break in the vineyard chores, but the crush season had only just begun. Hart Vineyards was the star of the show this year, with Sam bringing busload after busload out, and carsful of thirsty tourists arriving from dawn to dusk.

  Keval convinced her to formally change the name to Broken Hart Vineyards, saying that it hinted at a melancholy yet intriguing story.
<
br />   Broken Hart Vineyards, indeed.

  Keval set up interviews with the local press and Wine Spectator.

  Northwest Distributors sent one of their managers to wine and dine her at the Radish Rose, Clarkston’s bastion of fine dining.

  She was grateful for the distractions. They kept her from thinking about Manolo.

  Best of all, she met with Jed Smith at Clarkston Savings Bank and crafted a plan to pay off Tom Alexander and write a check to Manolo, even though he hadn’t asked for it.

  Once those debts were paid, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  The next challenge was to buy out Storm. But that shouldn’t be too hard. He’d only bought out Mom’s half interest to help her afford her townhouse.

  Or so Junie thought.

  And then, one day in early November when the grapevines were withering and the air held the promise of snow, Jed Smith called and asked Junie to meet him at Poppy’s Café.

  The crush was just winding down. It had been a record year, not just for Junie, but for the entire Willamette Valley.

  Poppy took their orders and pretended not to eavesdrop.

  “So. What’s new?” Junie asked, biting into her sticky bun. She still didn’t cook, despite Manolo having left a folder with all his family recipes in it on the tasting room bar, along with detailed instructions for the seasonal cook she’d taken on.

  “I heard from your brother, Storm,” Jed replied with a grim expression.

  Chapter Forty-one

  November, Hoboken, New Jersey

  Manolo bent over and kissed his mother’s cheek. “How’s the knee?”

  He’d managed to incorporate a side trip to visit his mom at the rehab hospital following November drill.

  “Coming along. They had me up walking the very first day.”

  “Amazing what modern medicine can do, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is. Hand me my glasses, will you?”

  She put them on and studied his face. “Where are you these days?”

  “You know, Mom. We talked about it. Belize, remember?”

  “That’s right. It’s all these medicines I’m on that makes me forget things. You didn’t like it out west, then?”

  Manolo looked at the floor. He tried not to think about the wide open spaces, the big sky, and, most of all, the unique people. “Liked it fine. It was just time.”

  “You looked so happy the last time I saw you.”

  He threw out his arms and pasted on a smile. “I don’t look happy now?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose you do. There was a spark you had, the last time you were here. . . .”

  “Well, I should look happy. Because I just got word from my headhunter. She thinks she found me a new job. You’ll never guess where.”

  “Hard to tell. Haven’t you been just about everywhere under the sun by now?”

  “Australia!”

  “Australia. You always talked about going there.”

  “That’s right. I got an interview this week for a project in Sydney.”

  “How are they going to interview you, all the way down there?”

  “It’s all done on a computer nowadays, Mom.”

  “Now, when would that start?”

  “Soon as the Belize job’s over, in February.”

  She shook her head on her pillow. “All this change . . . I can’t keep up. You know your father’s selling the restaurant.”

  The news was a bolt of lightning through his chest. “No. I didn’t.”

  “Our customer base is fading. Everyone’s going to those new places. Sushi and vegetarian and gluten free and who knows what else. Talk about change. . . .”

  Manolo laid his hand on her shoulder. “I know, Mom. I know.”

  Later, he ran into Izzy in the hall.

  With no preamble, he asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Mom told you? Business is dropping off more and more. There was a time when the name Santos was worth something. But now the real estate’s worth more than the restaurant. The liquor license alone will fetch a pretty penny. Wait till you hear this: Dad’s been looking at condos in—wait for it—Miami Beach.”

  “Florida?”

  “I know, right?”

  “Well, it’ll be good for Mom.”

  “That’s for sure. That woman deserves to bake on a beach for a change, instead of in the kitchen.”

  Manolo frowned. “But what about you and the girls? What will you do?”

  “Paloma needs a break. She’s ready to stay home with the kids—Anthony’s practice is doing well enough. Maria’s thinking about going back to school, now that her rug rats are old enough.”

  “What about you?”

  Izzy had never married. All she lived for was the restaurant.

  “Who knows?” She shrugged.

  To Manolo’s horror, tears filled her eyes. He couldn’t handle women crying. Especially women he loved.

  He gave her a brotherly squeeze and peered over her shoulder, down the hall of the hospital, without seeing it. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Something will come up.”

  Everything’s disintegrating, he thought. Soon there won’t be anything left to come home to but my storage units. And, like Junie had said, a storage shed was hardly a home.

  Chapter Forty-two

  In early December, Manolo got a phone call from Sam.

  “I’ve been trying to call you, man. Finally got through!”

  “Reception’s touch-and-go down here.”

  “How’s Belize?”

  “Awesome. Hot sun, hot babes . . . what’s up with you?”

  “Forget it. Can’t compete with that.”

  “Try me.”

  “I’m planning to do some skiing over Christmas break. Wondered if you want to come up and hit the slopes, assuming you have a Christmas break.”

  With his family split into pieces and his staff jetting off to their various hometowns, Manolo had been resigned to spending Christmas alone.

  “Sounds great.”

  “You sure the local hotties can survive without you for a few days?”

  Even under threat of waterboarding, he’d never confess to Sam that the last woman he’d laid a hand on was Junie Hart.

  “It’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

  * * *

  A couple of weeks later, Sam picked Manolo up at the PDX airport.

  They drove south out of Portland, toward the Willamette. The cityscape disappeared behind them, replaced by suburbia’s mishmash of houses and small businesses. Gradually, fields outnumbered developments. At a distance, snow blanketed the high ground.

  “How’d your interview go?”

  “Nailed it.”

  “Australia?”

  “February fifteenth.”

  Sam whistled through his teeth. “That’s a long way away. Think you’ll ever get tired of running and settle down some day?”

  “Nope.”

  Neither man spoke for a mile or so.

  Then Sam said, “We’ve driven halfway to Clarkston. So far, you’ve asked me how the consortium’s doing, about the relative success of this fall’s crush, and what’s the latest between me and Red.”

  “Your point?”

  “When are you going to quit skating around the subject and ask me the thing you’re dying to know about the most?”

  Manolo gazed out the window, feigning ignorance. “I don’t have a clue what you’re getting at.”

  Sam thumped his chest as he drove. “Are you forgetting who this is you’re talking to?”

  “Okay. You win. What’s going on with Junie?”

  “She paid off Tom Alexander. But Storm still owns the half of the vineyard he bought from their mom. Junie naturally assumed he’d sell it to her, now that she’s in the black, but instead of playing nice, he jacked up the price. When Junie balked, Storm offered it to Tom Alexander.”

  Manolo was seized by fury. “How do you know this? Did Junie tell you?”

  “Poppy overheard Je
d Smith telling Junie about it.”

  The Clarkston gossip mill is alive and well.

  “What was Alexander’s response?”

  “He hasn’t responded yet, far as I know. And when he does, who’s to say Storm won’t turn right around and jack the price up again, to see if he can bid Junie up?”

  “Storm could play this game forever. That’s not right.”

  “No, it’s not. Junie doesn’t deserve this, after all she’s been through. You haven’t talked to her?”

  Manolo looked at his hands, which were lying impotently in his lap. “She won’t take my calls. My bad. I never used to call her. Now it looks like it’s too late.” Filled with regret, he pressed his lips together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind. A certain counselor advised me to stay out of it.”

  “Or,” said Manolo, “you thought you’d invite me out here to go skiing, and should it happen to come up in the course of conversation. . .”

  Sam grinned. “Something like that.”

  “Well, at least Junie got herself a distributor. That was the reason I built her that bistro.”

  “Uh, think again.”

  “What do you mean? I was there when you introduced him to her at the grand opening!”

  “If you remember, Dan said Northwest was offering her a proposal. It wasn’t a done deal. They don’t want her unless she owns a majority of her operation. Think about it. Northwest can’t be signing deals with someone who isn’t in control of her business.”

  Manolo’s head fell back against the seat. “I can’t believe this. I thought everything was good when I left. It was all supposed to be settled.”

  “One more thing. Do you remember Junie’s mom’s mystery boyfriend?”

  “Kind of.”

  “You won’t believe who it is.”

  “Let me guess. Tom Alexander?”

  The look Sam gave him was his answer.

  “I never liked that guy. And that Storm character may be Junie’s brother, but he rubs me the wrong way, too.”

  “Remember what I said about him back in April?”

  “Soup sandwich.” Manolo scrubbed a hand over his face. “Too bad he’s not here instead of Colorado. I’d like to wring that little twerp’s neck.”