The Secret (Butler Ranch Book 3)

by Heather Slade

  “Okay. As you all know, twenty-three percent of wine consumers are between the ages of sixty and seventy. Of that, fifty-seven percent are women. Millennials account for less than eighteen percent of consumption.”

  “What’s a millennial?” Hawks asked.

  “Someone born between twenty-two and forty years ago.”

  “And?” If Maddox had a stick, he’d be poking her.

  “They have a short attention span but tend to be know-it-alls who respond well to premiumization.”

  “Therefore…”

  If Maddox wasn’t smiling at her, she’d kick him.

  “Aren’t we all millennials?” Naughton asked, not smiling.

  Bradley nodded. “We are, and for that target, it’s all about under eight and over eighty.”

  “What does that mean? You know what she’s talkin’ about, Naught?” Hawks rubbed his chin.

  “Price point. Under eight bucks and over eighty,” Naughton answered for her.

  Bradley went on. “There’s considerable volume at both ends. The under eight price point will always account for the bulk of sales. However, it’s the over eighty dollar price point that’s climbing the quickest.”

  “And varietally?”

  “You already know the answer to that question too, Naughton.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “Rosé followed by sparkling, but the challenge is, the hottest wines in those categories are not domestic. French imports account for seventy percent, and we’re sitting at thirty.”

  “So we plant the hell out of Grenache, Syrah, and Pinot Noir. That ought to do it.” Hawks winked again.

  “Plus Sangiovese, Petit Verdot, Roussanne, and Pinot Gris,” Naughton added.

  “And add relatively small crops of Mourvedre, Viognier, Carignan, and Cinsault.” Bradley looked at Maddox, who smiled at her like a proud papa.

  “What do you think, Naught?” Maddox asked.

  “Covered.”

  “All of it.” Maddox hadn’t asked a question, but Naughton nodded anyway.

  “And Butler Ranch?”

  Naughton was getting tired of Mad’s schoolmarm tone. “Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Chardonnay,” he muttered.

  “What do we do, then?”

  “Ask Bradley.” Naughton’s gaze moved from his brother to her.

  “Combine production. It’s the only solution, long-term anyway.”

  Naughton agreed, but accomplishing it wouldn’t be easy. It would take years to transition the Butler Ranch vineyards, which meant they’d need more land or they’d never have enough volume to produce two primary labels, let alone secondary.

  Inside, Naughton swore; outside, he kept his poker face intact.

  “What’ll it take, Naught?”

  “Land.” He was getting close to wiping the smug look off his brother’s face.

  “What kind of money are we talkin’?”

  Naughton shrugged.

  “Four mil, at least, right?”

  Sometimes Naughton thought Maddox just liked dicking with him.

  “Naughton?”

  “I’m thinkin’.” Jesus, did Maddox really expect him to answer here and now, in front of Hawks and Bradley? Even talking about it in front of Alex made him uncomfortable.

  “You’re still three to five years out, whether you add acreage or not.”

  Bradley was right. They couldn’t just stop production at the ranch; they’d have to wait to ease out and replant after Demetria was at full production, otherwise neither winery would survive.

  Maddox nodded as he studied Bradley.

  Why? This had nothing to do with her. It didn’t take a Cornell grad or anyone else to tell him or Maddox everything she had. They knew it as well as she did. Maybe the whole exercise was simply for Maddox to prove she knew what she was talking about.

  It wasn’t necessary, though. Naughton hadn’t doubted it. He saw it the first day they met, when he’d followed her through the vineyards. One day she’d make a great winemaker, probably one of the best. Maddox had been smart to seek her out, but ultimately, wouldn’t her loyalties always be with Jenson Vineyards?

  “Alex and I need to get up to the winery. You two okay on your own?”

  Naught looked around. Where had Hawks gone? “I think we’re done here, aren’t we?”

  “Can you show Bradley the way back to her truck?” Mad asked.

  “Not necessary,” she answered for him. “I know my way.”

  Famous last words. Once she went back through the woods, she got completely turned around. She didn’t remember passing a pasture or seeing horses. Bradley turned back to take a different path, when Naughton came through the woods.

  “Know your way, huh?”

  “Shut up,” she mumbled.

  “It took me a long time to learn this land, too.” Naughton walked over to the post-and-rail fence, and Bradley followed.

  “Whose are they?”

  “Mine, and Mad’s too. At least that one.” Naughton pointed to a heavily-spotted horse. “That’s Shazam. He’s a bay Leopard Appaloosa.”

  “He’s beautiful. Who’s that?” she pointed at the other horse.

  “Huck.”

  “He’s huge.”

  Naughton laughed. “He’s a draft horse, so yeah.”

  “Do you ride him?”

  “All the time.”

  Bradley looked from man to horse. It wasn’t surprising. They both seemed to hold equal power. Naughton made a noise, and Huck walked over to where they stood.

  “Go ahead, say hello.”

  Bradley wasn’t sure who he was talking to, her or the horse.

  “I’m not really a horse-person,” she admitted.

  “Sure you are. Look.” Naughton motioned behind her, where Shazam stood.

  Bradley looked over her shoulder. “Uh, hi.”

  Shazam nudged her with his nose.

  “Give him a rub.”

  Bradley put her hand up for the horse to smell, like she would with a dog. Shazam pushed at it until she petted him.

  “Don’t ride?”

  “I’ve never had occasion to.

  “We’ll fix that. Lotta ground to cover, especially if you’re walking here and Butler Ranch on a regular basis.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be here that often.”

  Naughton shook his head.

  “What?”

  “Mad wouldn’t have brought you here if that was the case.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “I guess it really isn’t a question.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “I’m trying to figure out why you don’t like me.”

  Nothing could be further from the truth. Something about her pretty face, sweet curves, and long brown hair spoke to him. It wasn’t as dark as Alex’s, whose hair was almost black. It was something between bay and sorrel, and changed whenever the light hit it. All he knew is he longed to run his fingers through it.

  “How old are you, Bradley?”

  “I told you before, you can’t ask me that.”

  “I know, but tell me anyway.”

  “It isn’t difficult math, Naughton.”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Twenty-seven, but I don’t see what that has to do with why you don’t like me.”

  “I like you too much,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” Naughton stepped forward, closing the space between them. He reached up and trailed two fingers from her cheek to her chin.

  “What are you doing?” She put her hands against his chest.

  “I want to kiss you, Bradley, and what’s more, you want me to.”

  “I don’t,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, you do.” No point in letting her lie.

  Bradley shook her head, but he felt her tremor right before her fingers curled into his shirt.

  “Don’t lie, sweetheart.” He wound his fingers through the soft waves of her
hair and wrapped it around his hand. Instead of taking a taste of her beckoning lips, Naughton kissed the side of her face, down to just below her ear, and then backed away. If he hadn’t, his mouth would have trailed down farther, to where his hands longed to cover her breasts.

  “You want this as much as I do,” he whispered.

  When he released his hold on her and stepped back, she grasped the wooden fence.

  “Stay away from me, Bradley. You get this close to me again, and I won’t stop like I did today.”

  With wide eyes, she nodded and tightened her grip on the fence.

  “Follow that path back through the woods. When you come to the next clearing, go left. That path will take you straight to your truck.”

  When she nodded again, Naughton walked off in the opposite direction.

  Her legs were shaking too much to walk. She let go of the fence and looked at her palm. She’d grasped it so tightly, she had splinters.

  Instead of watching Naughton walk away, she closed her eyes against her humiliation. He knew how much she wanted him to kiss her. Her denial had been a lie, and he’d seen right through it. But getting involved with Naughton Butler would mean she’d lose her job with his brother, and she couldn’t let that happen. He warned her away from him? Not a problem. She’d give him the same warning.

  The trees gave him cover as he watched Bradley walk away. It was all he could do not to follow. She intoxicated him in a way no other woman ever had. It didn’t matter that he hardly knew her. His body knew everything his brain hadn’t learned yet.

  He’d wanted to kiss her, but if he had, he wouldn’t have stopped. He doubted Bradley Saint John was the type of woman who could handle the kind of storm he’d like to rain on her body. He wanted her hard and fast, right out in the open. She’d let him take her too, but then when the reality of what they’d done hit her, she’d hate herself for it. Naughton wouldn’t care if she hated him, but she wasn’t that type of woman either.

  When he’d looked into her hazel eyes, he saw every single thing he’d wondered if he could ever have—love, a family, a future. Would it ever be possible, or was he too much like his oldest brother, Kade?

  4

  Bradley’s phone pinged and she took it out of her pocket.

  Where are you?

  New winery in PR. Where are you?

  Be at JV in a couple hours.

  Bradley met Guy Deveux III, who everyone called Trey, the week after she completed her bachelor’s degree. A month in the Northern California wine region had been her graduation present to herself. He sought her out at an industry tour of Mumm Napa Valley, intrigued—he’d told her at the time—when he noticed she was there on behalf of Jenson Vineyards.

  She’d spent the rest of June on his arm touring the wineries of Napa, Carneros, Sonoma, Alexander Valley, and the Russian River. Trey was handsome, and funny, and knew everyone in the industry, or so it seemed. He introduced her to many of the winery bigwigs and never failed to mention her connection to Charlie Jenson.

  Trey had been born in the United States, but his upbringing was heavily influenced by the French customs and traditions of his father and grandfather. He was a perfectionist and expected those around him to live up to his exacting standards. While he told Bradley he loved her just the way she was, her lack of self-confidence when she was around him, often left her feeling as though she fell short. There had been many times over the years, she wondered what Trey saw in her that kept him interested.

  Trey’s grandfather, Guy Deveux, Sr., had come to the States in the mid-seventies in search of a place to grow traditional Champagne grapes on behalf of GH Mumm, who, at the time, was the largest producer of Champagne in the world. He’d settled on Napa Valley and founded the winery that released its first vintage in 1983, under the name Domaine Mumm.

  Trey’s father, Guy, Jr., took the helm at Mumm Napa when Trey’s grandfather passed away in the mid-nineties, just as Trey would be expected to do when his father either retired or passed away.

  When Bradley told Trey she’d decided to pursue her master’s at Cornell, rather than take a job right away, she and Trey had their first argument. First he had tried to talk her out of it, saying it was a waste of time when she had a job waiting for her at Jenson Vineyards.

  When she wouldn’t relent, he pushed for her to transfer to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo or Fresno State for the same reason. If she pursued her degree closer to Paso Robles, she’d still be able to work for her uncle.

  When she told him her decision was final, he threatened to break up with her, saying they obviously had a different set of priorities.

  She’d been back at Cornell less than two months when he showed up and told her he forgave her, and wooed himself back into her life. She still got a bad taste in her mouth when she thought about his word choice. He forgave her?

  It was one of those seemingly little things that she’d let go, but when she graduated in May, the first thing Trey wanted to know was whether her uncle had offered her a job.

  “He has, but I haven’t made my final decision yet.”

  “Where else would you work?” he’d asked.

  She told him she had offers from wineries in Northern California that she was considering.

  “You have to work for Jenson. It’s your heritage.”

  While Aunt Jean and Uncle Charlie didn’t have children, it was never implied or assumed that she’d take over the winery the same way Trey was expected to take over Mumm Napa.

  When Bradley called Trey to tell him about the offer she’d received from Butler Ranch, he was congratulatory, but the conversation made her uncomfortable.

  He’d said he wanted to come and spend the holiday weekend with her so they could celebrate, but a familiar feeling of dread had immediately settled in her stomach. She didn’t doubt he’d try to convince her to stay at Jenson.

  A couple of hours after Bradley had returned to her aunt and uncle’s from Demetria, she got a call on her cell from a number she didn’t recognize. She thought about letting it go to voicemail, but since it was from a local area code, she hit the accept button instead.

  “Hey, Bradley. It’s Alex.”

  “Uh, hi, Alex.”

  “I’m on my way over to Stave. I thought you might like to join me. I’m really anxious for you to meet Peyton.”

  “That sounds great—”

  “I’m at Los Cab now, but I’m leaving shortly. I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

  “Are you sure it isn’t an inconvenience? I can meet you there.”

  “Nah, I’ll be by in a few minutes.”

  Since Trey wouldn’t arrive for at least another hour and a half, she could text and ask him to meet her at Stave, and then she could ride back with him.

  Bradley knew of the Los Caballeros Winery, it was down Adelaida Trail from Jenson Vineyards. She’d never seen their facility though. She should make a point of visiting some of the other wineries and introducing herself. The timing was perfect considering most would be open for Labor Day Weekend, even the ones that were usually by appointment only.

  There wasn’t anything in her closet that she felt like wearing. It was either too east coast college, or too vineyard field worker. Finally, she settled on a sundress she hoped still fit.

  She pulled on her favorite pair of ankle boots and studied herself in the mirror. Maybe she was overdressed. She didn’t want Peyton or Alex to think she was trying too hard.

  Just when she was about to pull her dress over her head and put on a pair of jeans, she saw a car pull into the driveway. When she peered out the window and saw Alex was wearing a dress too, she decided not to bother changing her clothes.

  Alex was in the kitchen, talking to her aunt and uncle when Bradley came down the stairs.

  “Sorry I didn’t tell you, Alex invited me to go to Stave. Oh, and Trey is on his way down for the weekend.” She still hadn’t texted him to ask him to meet her there instead of at Jenson.

  “How nice,” muttered Aunt Jea
n, rolling her eyes.

  “Ready?” Alex asked.

  “Sure. Uh, I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  Her aunt shook her head and smiled. “It’s fine, Bradley. We’ll see you when we see you.”

  “Thanks for picking me up,” Bradley said once they were in the car.

  “Peyton can’t wait to meet you. I’ll warn you, it might be a madhouse given it’s the last weekend of summer, but more because it’s the last few days we have to let loose before harvest.”

  Bradley nodded. She understood. Once the first varietal was ready to pick, it would be non-stop work for weeks.

  “So, uh, the guys will be there too.”

  “The guys?”

  “You know, Mad, Naught, and Brodie. You haven’t met Brodie yet, have you?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “He’s Peyton’s boyfriend. Well, not really her boyfriend, he’s her fiancé. They’re engaged.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. I need to text my boyfriend and ask him to meet me there. He’s driving down from Napa.”

  “Boyfriend? Napa? This sounds interesting. Who is he?”

  “Trey Deveux. His family—”

  “Say no more. I know of Trey’s family, although I hadn’t heard he and you were dating. How long has this been going on? I take it your aunt isn’t a fan.”

  Bradley laughed. “I’ve been seeing him four years, on and off, and no, she’s not a fan.”

  “That’s too bad. I mean, it’s not too bad for him; it’s too bad for Naughton.”

  “Why?”

  “Naught’s head over boots, girlfriend. He’s got it bad.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on, Bradley. Really? You don’t think we noticed? It wasn’t just Naughton.”

  “I can’t…I mean…I work for him.”

  “No, you don’t. You work for Maddox.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Alex asked me to let you know she’s picking Bradley up on her way here,” Naughton heard Peyton tell Maddox.

  He thought about going back out the way he came in, getting on his bike, and going home, but he wanted to see Bradley more than he didn’t want to see her.