The Secret (Butler Ranch Book 3)

by Heather Slade

  Before she finished her sentence, Naughton lifted her between him and the wall and slid inside her.

  “God, you feel good,” he groaned. He turned around, separated himself from her body, lowered her onto the built-in bench, and opened the shower door.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “You feel too good, angel. I love not having anything between us, but I need to grab a condom.”

  “It’s okay, Naughton. I mean, I have an IUD. You know, birth control …” She didn’t want to think about the reason behind her needing it and ruin the moment, but as Naughton’s eyes bore into hers, making her feel uncomfortable, she mumbled, “Never mind.” She got up, trying to push past him. Instead of letting her, he picked her up again, pushed her back against the wall, and thrust as deeply as he’d been before.

  “I can’t…think…about you…with anyone…else,” he said with each push. “You’re mine, Bradley.” He ran his tongue up her neck to her lips. “All mine.”

  “Naughton—” she cried, loving his possessiveness.

  “Say it.”

  “I’m yours, Naughton. And you’re mine.”

  He thrust once more and held her still except for the inside of her body clenching his.

  He lowered her legs but kept her pinned between him and wall. He ground his mouth against hers the way she had with his. With her tongue and lips, she said the words she longed to say out loud. Naughton pulled away, his eyes boring into hers like they had before.

  “I love you,” he said. “I love you, and I’m never going to stop loving you.”

  Between her physical exhaustion, anxiety about seeing her father, and the roller coaster their lovemaking always took her on, Bradley’s emotions sprang to the surface, and her eyes filled with tears. She put her hands on either side of his face and looked into his eyes. “I love you, Naughton, and I’m never going to stop either.”

  “We’re going to be late,” he said a few minutes later.

  “I don’t care,” she told him. “Ed can wait.”

  22

  Bradley didn’t seem nervous, but Naughton was. He’d never met anyone’s father, not in this context anyway.

  “Stop it,” she whispered when they walked into her aunt and uncle’s house.

  “What?” he whispered back.

  “Scowling. He doesn’t bite.”

  She smiled, and he did too.

  When Bradley introduced them, Naughton had to admit Edgar Saint John reminded him of himself. He made little eye contact, and saying their handshake had been awkward was being generous.

  Naughton caught Charlie’s eye. He was standing out of Edgar’s view, smiling. He was enjoying this, the bastard.

  “So, Naughton…you and Bradley,” Charlie began, and Jean swatted him.

  “I made some tea,” she said before he could finish whatever he was going to say. “I’d suggest we sit outside, but with this heat…”

  Instead, Jean led them into the living room. Naughton stood next to the chair where Bradley sat, brushing her arm with the back of his hand.

  Edgar didn’t have much to say, so Naughton was relieved when Charlie brought up the harvest.

  “What’s your plan?” Charlie asked. “Pick or wait?”

  “Wait.”

  Bradley looked up at him and smiled.

  “What?” Naughton asked her.

  “I knew you’d wait,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah? What would you do, Bradley?”

  “Wait.”

  “You’re probably wondering what they’re talking about,” Jean said to Edgar.

  “I’m assuming they’re referring to whether it would be more beneficial to pick now before sugar concentrations make fermentation impossible, or wait to see if the pH levels adjust with cooler temperatures.”

  No one in the room spoke. All eyes were on Bradley’s father, who sat stiffly in what looked to be a comfortable chair.

  “What would you do?” Naughton asked him.

  “I’d wait, of course.” Edgar smiled at their easy acceptance.

  “Why of course?” Naughton tried to encourage him.

  “This close to the Pacific Ocean, the odds that the temperatures will, in fact, drop far outnumber the odds it won’t. If you pick now, you’re assured a poor year, comparatively speaking. If you wait, there’s a very good chance it’ll be one of your better vintages.”

  Edgar turned to Charlie. “If you wouldn’t mind an outsider’s opinion, I’d like to discuss your options for futurities given your recent losses. Contrary to what you may think now, the loss, while devastating, may result in positive shifts in sales that you wouldn’t expect.”

  “Supply and demand,” murmured Naughton.

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re what sells, Charlie. You’re the rock star. People love your wine in the same way fans love a band’s music. Their expectations are entirely dependent on you, not on any particular juice.” Naughton looked down at Bradley, who nodded.

  “I agree, Uncle Charlie.”

  “Look at the startups who are already selling out vintages,” Edgar added. “It isn’t because of the wine, it’s because of the winemaker.”

  “You’ve done research,” Charlie commented.

  “I am an economist, Charlie,” Edgar said in a tone that made Naughton laugh.

  Edgar turned to him. “It isn’t the commodity. It’s the market. You understand that, don’t you, Naughton?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Edgar nodded. “I thought you might.”

  Bradley pinched the outside of her leg where her hand rested. She did it twice, and then a third time. She didn’t wake up. She looked over at her aunt, who winked.

  “Help me bring some snacks in?” Aunt Jean said.

  Bradley jumped up. “Yes, please,” she said, and then flushed at her bizarre reaction. Naughton put his hand on her arm, leaned over, and kissed her before she left the room and met her aunt in the kitchen.

  “Was the tea spiked?”

  “No, sweetheart.” She laughed. “But I do feel as though I’m watching a movie play out in our living room.

  “It’s bizarre, right? My father is so…interested.”

  “His comments were unexpected. Although, I think your father is trying to figure out a way he can participate in the life you’ve chosen for yourself even though he doesn’t approve of the commodity.”

  “Am I crazy, or are they alike?”

  “Oh, sweet girl. You are not the least bit crazy.”

  “Naughton and Dad, right?”

  “Yes, Naughton and your father.”

  “But—”

  Aunt Jean put her hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “They are alike in the best possible way, Bradley. Not in the worst. Celebrate it.”

  “Hell, that was outta nowhere,” said her uncle, joining them in the kitchen. “They’re head-to-head, deciding the future of the universe, or maybe just the Westside.” Uncle Charlie laughed and shook his head. “When I was leaving the room, I heard Naughton invite your dad to the meeting tonight.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Did Dad accept his invitation?”

  “I think he did.”

  “Oh, Lord.” Bradley sat down in the kitchen chair, realizing she sounded just like Alex.

  “We better go back in,” said her aunt.

  “Snacks?”

  “Oh, right. Thanks for reminding me.”

  Aunt Jean opened the refrigerator and pulled out some fruit and cheese.

  “Here, Charlie, make yourself useful and slice this.”

  “Yes, dear.” He winked at Bradley. “I may have to give Naughton some pointers on the ways of the women in your family.”

  Aunt Jean put her arm around Bradley’s shoulders. “You’re the spitting image of your mother at your age.”

  “I am?”

  “Your aunt too,” said Uncle Charlie, who set his knife on the counter and left the room.

  “Where’s h
e going?”

  Aunt Jean shrugged and smiled. “Who knows?”

  After a couple of minutes, he was back, holding a picture frame. “You probably haven’t seen this in several years. When you were younger, you’d ask to see it all the time.”

  He handed her the photo taken the day he and Aunt Jean got married. Bradley’s mother had been Jean’s maid of honor, and in the photo, her aunt and her mother were head-to-head, smiling.

  She sat down and studied the image. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d last seen it. At least twelve or thirteen years. She ran her fingertips over her mother’s face.

  Uncle Charlie was right. She hadn’t realized how much she looked like her mom and her aunt.

  “You’re a lot like her in other ways too,” said her father, who was standing in the doorway.

  Bradley turned and looked at him. “How?”

  “Your sense of humor. Your kindness. Your humility.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “The way you love,” he added, startling Bradley and probably her aunt and uncle too.

  “We married a month from the day we met. It might have seemed crazy to some, but we didn’t care.” Her father looked at Aunt Jean. “That’s why we eloped. We knew what we were doing. We knew it was right, and we didn’t want anyone to try to talk us out of it.”

  Bradley looked at Naughton, who was standing behind her father. “When it’s right, you know it,” he murmured.

  Her dad turned around. “Yes. Exactly.”

  Uncle Charlie cleared his throat. “I hear you’re coming to the meeting tonight,” he said, leading her dad and Naughton back to the living room.

  “Wow,” Bradley whispered, thankful for a chance to breathe.

  “Charlie to the rescue. He’s pretty good at changing the subject when he senses a conversation is getting awkward.”

  “It’s like I don’t even know him.”

  “Your father?”

  Bradley nodded.

  “Time to, I’d say.”

  An hour before it was scheduled to begin, Alex changed the location of the meeting. Instead of meeting at Stave, she wanted to meet at Los Cab. Her turf, she’d told Maddox and Naughton when they asked why. “No one comes in that we don’t want in,” she said.

  Naughton sat with Bradley’s father not far from where she was helping Alex and Peyton call the collaborative members about the location change.

  He’d learned a lot about her in the last few hours. Once Edgar started talking about his only child, he hardly took a breath between stories. There were stories about Bradley’s mother too.

  “I’ve missed a lot,” Edgar confided in Naughton. “For many years I believed the light in my life had gone out. It was unfair to Bradley.” Edgar looked at his daughter, and then at Charlie and Jean. “They raised her.”

  “They helped, but she’s your daughter.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Definitely. She’s a lot like you.”

  Edgar cringed, but then smiled. “Thank you, Naughton.”

  An hour later, Alex called the meeting to order after making sure a representative from every collaborative member, except Tablas Creek, was in attendance.

  “I’m sure you’re all aware of what took place at Jenson Vineyards Monday night.”

  There were murmurs from those in attendance, most conveying their outrage and sympathy for Charlie and Jean.

  “We believe that the person or people behind the vandalism at Jenson, and the fire at Butler Ranch, are the same as those behind the events that took place here, at Los Cab.”

  There was no reason for Alex to explain what had happened, everyone knew and empathized. Naughton knew that most had miscalculated their inventory, and thus threatened their bond, at one time or another.

  “We also believe there is further imminent threat to Los Cab, Butler Ranch, and the other vineyards and wineries on the westside, and that is my reason for calling tonight’s meeting.”

  Alex explained that a collaborative member had overheard a conversation between Rory Calder and Trey Deveux, and the specific things that were said.

  “Why haven’t they been arrested?” asked Bob Dunning. “If someone overheard them mention Jenson, isn’t that proof enough?”

  Maddox spoke up. “You know it isn’t, Bob. As much as we wish it were.”

  Dunning’s property was on Adelaida Road, bordering Los Cab on the south.

  “It should be,” Bob muttered.

  Naughton lost track of the rest of the conversation, focusing on Bradley instead. She watched and listened while the members talked. With every word spoken, he saw her take more and more on her shoulders.

  There was someone else who caught Naughton’s eye. The man sat near the door that led from the entryway into the main tasting room and wasn’t someone he recognized.

  “Who’s that?” he asked Charlie, motioning to the man.

  “I think he’s from Murray,” Charlie answered. “New guy. Can’t remember his name.”

  Naughton looked first at Maddox, and then at Brodie. He motioned toward the man, and they both nodded.

  Alex asked about the harvest, and the members took turns saying who was harvesting what and when. There were many who found themselves in the same position as Jenson and Butler Ranch, including Los Cab.

  “It’s a gamble,” Gabe, Alex’s oldest brother and head winemaker, commented. “But what I’m hearing is that more of you are gambling too.”

  Heads around the room nodded. The closer the winery and vineyards were to the ocean, the greater the chance cooler temperatures would return at least in the evening. The members whose land sat farther east were taking the most risk.

  Naughton saw that Edgar was scribbling on a notepad. He was anxious to hear his take on the meeting once it was over.

  “What can we do to stop Calder?” one of the other vineyard owners asked. “I can’t be the only one who feels certain he’s behind the crime wave.”

  “I heard he has a connection to the Mumm family,” said someone else. “Those bastards swooped into Napa in the seventies and practically stole the land they built and planted on.”

  Naughton saw Bradley’s head shoot up.

  “I heard that too,” said someone else. “The Deveux family is as cutthroat as they come. Does the youngest have a connection to someone here, other than Calder?”

  There were murmurs, and a few members turned to look at Charlie and Jean, but no one said anything about Bradley’s connection to Trey.

  “The Deveux family and the Calders are more than connected,” someone else added. “They’re related. By marriage.”

  “What’s this?” asked Maddox.

  “Some say it was an arranged marriage. One of Rory’s brothers married one of the Deveux daughters.”

  Naughton doubted Bradley knew anything about the connection, or she would’ve mentioned it. Catching her eye across the room, she appeared stunned.

  The man Naughton had noticed earlier remained quiet. He looked around the room but didn’t engage in conversation. He also didn’t introduce himself to anyone. The collaborative was like a family—many of its members had known each other for generations. The man from Murray’s presence was like someone attending a family reunion and not making any attempt to meet the family.

  “The impact this has had on the Westside, and the rest of our little valley, has been devastating,” said Alex. “Like many of you, I grew up here. It’s always been a place where we felt safe leaving our doors unlocked and the keys in the ignition of our ranch vehicles at night. I can’t accept that our community is turning into a place where we can’t trust our neighbors.”

  Maddox joined Alex at the podium and put his arm around her. “I’m sure all of you want to stop the wave of attempted hostile takeovers that, as Alex said, threaten our way of life. The only way we can send the message that we aren’t interested in having our vineyards eaten up by big wine conglomerates is to stand together.”

 
The crowd at the meeting were on their feet, like an angry mob ready to do battle with the monster from the forest. The level of the volume of conversation had risen to the point where Alex would have a hard time getting the attention of the members in order to finish the meeting.

  Naughton looked over to where Bradley was and saw through the crowd that she remained seated. He caught the eye of each of his brothers again, making sure they were still surveying the room, watching for anything out of the ordinary to happen. A minute later, he looked back to where Bradley had been sitting, but she no longer there. He scanned the room to see if she was talking to anyone, but he couldn’t find her.

  “Where’d Bradley go?” Naughton asked Charlie.

  “I don’t know. Just saw her a minute ago. Maybe she’s in the restroom,” he answered.

  Time stopped then, as Naughton saw the back of the man from Murray. He was moving too fast to simply be leaving. Something felt off. He waved his arms at his brothers and pointed to the door.

  Brodie reached it first, and when he did, broke into a run. Naughton ran too, charging through the front door, right on his brother’s heels.

  “Check the bathroom!” he shouted back at Maddox “Make sure Bradley is either in there or back in the tasting room.”

  Naughton saw the tail-end of a black SUV driving away. “Did you get the plate?” he asked Brodie.

  “Wasn’t one.”

  A few seconds later, Maddox came running out the door, Charlie and Edgar behind him. “Bradley’s gone, Naught. No one can find her.”

  23

  Naughton couldn’t focus. He had to chase the vehicle he saw leaving, but where were his keys? Where had he parked the truck?

  “Let’s go, Naught!” he heard Maddox yell from his SUV, jarring him out of his paralyzed state. Naughton ran over, got in, and saw Brodie was already in the back seat. Maddox peeled the tires down the dirt drive, not even waiting for him to close his door.

  He looked back and saw Charlie Jenson and Bradley’s father in the car behind them.

  “They’re going north; we’re going south,” explained Brodie. “They have a description of the vehicle. Bradley’s father is the point of contact, so am I.”