A Bridge Between Us

by K. K. Allen

  Raven’s expression remains cold and unimpressed. “Well, you’ll have all the time in the world to put all the knowledge into action now that you’re back. Once we move into the villa—”

  She stops abruptly when Trip cuts a look at her, but I don’t miss the shake of his head and the warning in his gaze.

  “What’s going on?” Apparently, Raven and Trip know a hell of a lot more than I do. “What do you mean, once you ‘move into the villa’?” I let out a laugh. “You can’t just invite yourself to move into my home.”

  Raven scrunches her face in confusion and looks at Trip.

  He lets out a heavy sigh. “Our dad was supposed to talk to you first.” He gives Raven another look. “Obviously, there are things to discuss. You just got home and need time to settle in, but with our investment in the business, it’s the right thing to do.”

  My mouth hangs open. The surprises just don’t stop coming. “No, it is not. That is my home.” I search their faces, grasping for hope that this is all one big joke.

  Trip frowns. “I know this is a lot right now, Camila, but you need to look at it from a business perspective.”

  “But this is my life we’re talking about. I just find out today that your father has somehow managed to wrangle his way into a fifty-fifty partnership in my family business. And now you all want to move in too?”

  “I’m at the winery for sixteen hours a day,” Raven says sharply. “Between events, wine tastings, and tours. This is all in the best interests of Bell Family Farms.”

  I look between them, wanting to scream, and bite my tongue so that I don’t react with emotion. I’m already worried my tone is coming off all wrong. “Look, no disrespect to your family, but—I just got here, and suddenly there are all these changes. It’s—I’m still trying to process it all, and I wasn’t even given a say.”

  Raven lets out a laugh. “With all due respect, Camila, the only reason your papa was able to keep the vineyard afloat is because of our father. We’re dealing with a hostile climate and the harshest of critics. Our fathers worked together for thirty years for a reason. And while you’ve been off getting all your fancy degrees, we’ve been here. Working.”

  Her words burn me straight through my chest. Everyone at the table has fallen silent and is looking at me. The old Camila would have told Raven that she didn’t have a clue as to what she was talking about. She’s giving her family credit for far too much. My grandfather planted the first bare root vines, and he did so against all odds.

  I’m getting too worked up over something I don’t quite understand yet, so I give them all a forced smile. “I think it’s time I head home.”

  “Camila, don’t go,” Josie begs.

  I ignore her and stand. “It was nice seeing you all.” I nod to the table without making eye contact with any of them. Then I grab my purse and head for the door.

  In my rush to leave my friends, this night, and this entire homecoming behind, I don’t pay attention to my path ahead. I’ve just rounded the corner of the taproom when I feel my shoe catch on the metal gate surrounding the perimeter of the bar, and I fall forward onto the snow-packed sidewalk. My palms break my fall. Immediately, I feel the cold burn of the impact and moan.

  Rolling over onto my back, I ignore the snow that melts into my hair and the crowds that pass me by while laughing or giving me strange looks. I don’t care. I’m done with today and with the avalanche of news that hasn’t stopped pummeling me since I arrived home.

  My head is starting to hurt, the cold soaks through my skin, and the backs of my eyes sting. When a figure leans over me and extends his hand, my throat closes up with emotion.

  I think I fell in love with Ridge’s eyes before I fell in love with his soul, his heart, or his mind. But I can’t be sure since my feelings for him developed so fast. Within months, I went from meeting the strange neighbor boy to anticipating the feeling in my chest that awakened at a single glance. I lived for those glances and for those precious moments when we got to be alone on our hilltop.

  Just looking at him now brings back all of those feelings and more. I could cry. I should let the dam burst and have my emotion pour down my cheeks. It would probably feel good. But the salty water will freeze before I allow a single tear to fall. Crying won’t solve a damn thing.

  “I’m okay,” I tell him without reaching for his hand.

  His square jaw tenses, and his eyes narrow to slits. He always hated how stubborn I was, which only made me want to exaggerate my performance.

  Instead of arguing with me, he grabs me under both arms and lifts me like I weigh nothing, then he sets me down and releases his hands almost as fast as he’d grabbed me.

  Ridge would never have been able to lift me like that when we were younger. I can’t help the way my gaze scans over his broad shoulders and his tall body. Even under the layers of clothing he’s wearing, I can tell that Ridge has grown in more ways than I ever imagined. He’s thicker and taller, and everything appears to be as hard as stone, just like his damn heart proved to be years ago.

  “I thought you left.”

  “I went to the bathroom. Came back, and I saw you fall. I wanted to help.”

  “That wasn’t necessary.”

  Without wasting another second, I lean down to check my boot laces then brush by him with a nudge of my shoulder into his side.

  “You can at least say thank you,” he calls after me.

  Choosing to ignore him, I walk faster, until I’ve rounded the corner to where my Jeep is parked. Footsteps follow. The crunch of each step seems to echo in my chest until I’ve had enough.

  I swing around and throw my hands onto my hips. “Stop following me, Ridge.”

  “I’m just making sure you get to your car.”

  Incredulous, I let out a laugh. “What a fucking gentleman you are. Newsflash. I’ve been walking fine on my own since I left this damn place. I didn’t need your help then, and I definitely don’t need it now.”

  “That’s not how it looks to me, Wild One.”

  I blink a couple of times. My vision begins to fade to black as my heart hammers away. Then I take three steps forward, until I’m directly under his nose, glaring up at him with what I hope he can read as a warning look. “You lost the right to call me that a long fucking time ago.” I keep my voice quiet and steady but firm. “Don’t say it again, you hear me?”

  Something flashes in his eyes, but he blinks it away before I can know for sure what it means. Maybe it’s anger, hurt, or annoyance. I don’t know, and I really wish I didn’t care.

  “Sure thing, Camila.”

  Ignoring the ache in my chest that comes from him saying my name, I turn and walk the rest of the way to my Jeep and leave.

  Chapter 49

  Camila

  Early Friday morning, I step into my office and shut the door behind me. No other lights are on in the casita, and I won’t be disturbed for the next few hours. I sit behind my desk, unlock the file-cabinet drawer, and pull out a month’s worth of financial documents to peruse.

  For the past few months, I’ve been working with an attorney to look into the shared partnership. One of his suggestions was for me to go through every single transaction, big and small, over the past ten years and make note of anything suspicious. I found out that Papa was selling off his personal assets left and right over the years to invest in more machinery—destemmers, fermenters, and bottling equipment, and the list just goes on.

  As of now, I can do nothing to stop the Bradshaws from moving into the villa. Thanks to our shared partnership, Thomas and his family have just as much right to be here as I do. At least they are being civil enough to agree to take the guest villa rather than the main house. They are now situated with their own kitchen, four bedrooms, a living room, and access to their own private garden, so hopefully we can all keep our distance until I can figure out how to take back what should be mine.

  “They’re going to take over this place,” I said to Mama after I found out t
he Bradshaws were moving in. “And you’re letting them.”

  Mama sighed, showing her age as she eased into her favorite oversized chair in the living room. “I don’t have a say, mija. I wish I did. But I’ve never had a say in how this place is run.”

  “Because Thomas Bradshaw made sure of that.”

  Mama nodded. “I believe that’s true.”

  I fumed. “So, while I was going to school to get all these fancy degrees, certifications, and work-study experiences, Trip and his father were making all the local connections and establishing relationships with Papa’s clients. I’m sure Papa’s intentions were good, but how could he give so much of this place away to another family? It makes no sense.” I raised my arms in defeat. “Now the Bradshaws are moving into the guest house. How long before they make their move into the main house? This is our home. I will not share it with them.”

  “Camila, when are you going to stop worrying about all the things you cannot control? Stop worrying so much about all the things that are wrong and think about the things that are right. Live for today, mija. You can’t rewrite the past, but you can do something about right now.”

  Mama was always right. So over the last few months, I’ve put all my focus and energy into overseeing operations with laser focus. I am everywhere, all day, every day. I refuse to rest, for fear of missing a single thing. My eye is on the prize and will be until I find a way to take back majority ownership of what should already be mine.

  I’ve been pounding the pavement, getting to know our clients as intimately as possible, establishing friendships and hoping to earn their trust, just as the Bradshaws have. I have routine meetings with everyone on the staff to keep up with their concerns, and I’ve been fully immersing myself in marketing, wanting to understand the strategies. I give my input, and I’ve won a few battles along the way. And I’ve also been working with our winemaker to come up with a new seasonal blend that we can release by summer.

  Trip, with his dad as his ongoing mentor, is often busy schmoozing new and old clients. And Raven keeps up with all the winery activities, a skill she’s always been great at. As much as she rubs me the wrong way, even I can admit that she’s exceptional at her job. For the most part, I leave her be, knowing any confrontation will result in a snooty bickering match I have no time for. A part of me also has never forgotten the way her eyes searched Ridge’s at High Pie, like she knows him better than most.

  I don’t want to believe my suspicions, but she’s always liked Ridge. With me gone, maybe Raven finally got her shot. They’ve always been friends, even when Ridge was working in Ouray. But she’s Trip’s sister, and I can’t imagine him being okay with the two of them together.

  Ugh, why am I distracting myself with thoughts about Ridge? I haven’t seen or talked to him since our fight outside of High Pie.

  Pruning season has kept us all busier than ever. Sustainability was always the focus of the Bell Family Vineyard. Due to the harsh weather conditions and the long winter, we focus on cane and spur pruning during those months. So as the snow began to melt off the vines and new growth started to blossom from the healthy buds that had been dormant all season, not only did the vineyard have an awakening, but so did my soul.

  I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.

  As soon as the thought enters my mind, I push it away. Beating myself up for choices I otherwise wouldn’t be regretting is useless. The truth is that I loved school. After Ridge landed himself in jail and my parents were on the outs, the last thing I wanted to do was move back to Telluride. So I went back to school. After Ridge walked away from me again when we were in Dunton, I finished my master’s program but was in no rush to return home, especially when I had the opportunity to travel to Italy for a work-study program. Then, upon my return to Napa, I was offered a job at one of the vineyards. In my mind, all of those years were benefiting my future. How could I have ever seen what was coming?

  Sighing, I set aside the financials and reach for the vendor list. I’ve almost made it down our long list of potential clients, and today I plan to visit one more. But when I spot the next name on the list, my heartrate triples its speed.

  The short description beside the business name of Wild One Ranch says that it’s a vacation rental property with log cabins and wood-framed tents, reminding me a hell of a lot of Dunton Hot Springs and Camp Lachey combined. I continue to the right of the spreadsheet to find the address of the property along with the owner’s name. Ridge Cross.

  Chapter 50

  Ridge

  Wild One Ranch is what’s chiseled into the wooden plaque I had made for the main lodge. What started as a conversation with Camila in Ouray will soon be a reality. Over the past five years, I’ve worked with architects, builders, and the county to create the type of resort that reminds me of the ghost town Camila took me to in Dunton.

  I still remember how wild my imagination became when we arrived and I took a walk around the property. My mind exploded with visions of creating the exact same thing in the woodland areas of the ranch. Harold had never done anything with the surrounding property, and I always loved that he’d wanted to preserve as much nature as possible. But to think that it could be preserved while allowing others to enjoy its natural beauty sparked something in me that I’d never felt before. I had a dream for the first time in my life, and nothing would stop me from living it out.

  Fitting strategically into the outskirts of the property, all spaced apart for privacy, now sit log cabins, luxury teepees, and tiny homes. I received my final approvals from the county just last week, which confirmed construction was done and Wild One was an official business. All that’s left to do now is furnish each of the vacation homes and start booking stays.

  I step back and take a look at the sign now fastened to the main cabin, which I’ll use as an office, and smile.

  “Clever name.”

  I spin around to face Camila. When my eyes lock on hers, I feel a jolt in my chest that reminds me of when we were younger. Something about her beauty always seems to shock my senses. That feeling has only intensified by all the time and distance between us.

  Her hair is longer than how she wore it in the past. Her eyes are bigger and brighter than ever. Her green button-down dress is similar to the ones she used to wear, save for the mud and dirt that used to cake to the back of her legs.

  She’s carrying a giant basket filled with cheese, crackers, chocolate, and a bottle of Merlot from the Bell vintage collection. But it’s the gentle smile she wears that strikes me most of all. It’s free of anger and resentment from the hurt I’ve caused her. Instead, it’s filled with surprise and pride for what I’ve created.

  I glance at the sign and can’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, you can say this place was inspired by someone of the same name.”

  Her eyes glaze over for a second before her smile widens, and she walks forward. She pushes the gift basket toward me. “I had to stop by and congratulate you. This is incredible, Ridge.”

  “Thank you.” I take the basket from her, and our fingers brush. Words have never been my strong suit, but being this close to Camila makes me speechless in the most unbecoming way. Not a day goes by when I don’t beat myself up over the way I lost her. Though my intentions were good, that doesn’t change the fact that I was terrible to her. I broke her heart, and I will never forgive myself for it.

  She spins in a slow circle, taking in the long trails that lead into the woods, where some of the cabins are vaguely visible through the trees

  “Want a tour?” I finally ask after a quick internal debate.

  “Yes, I would love that.”

  I turn to enter the main cabin. It’s set up like a living room, with a couch, a large fireplace, and a big-screen television. It also has a check-in counter and a back room for storage and cleaning supplies. “This is the only cabin I’ve furnished, so be warned. It’s a whole lot of nothing out there right now.”

  “I highly doubt that,” she says, sounding amazed. “I
can’t wait to see it.”

  Nodding, I grab the ring of keys to unlock the doors, then we take off down the nearest trail marked with a wooden post that reads Honey Bee. I bite my bottom lip when she gives me a curious look, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

  Each of the dirt trails leads to a grassy clearing with stone steps that are pushed into the ground and wind toward each cabin. The cabin we get to first is somewhat crooked, with one roof sloping at more of an angle than the other. The unmatched wood is knotted and rough. It was made from all types of fallen trees, and I kept the exposed wood as natural as possible.

  While she walks into the small one-bedroom, one-bathroom space, I can picture it fitted with a queen bed, some rugs, and local art to help tell the story of the area. While interior decorating isn’t my expertise, I’ve had plenty of offers from local furniture stores to help me gain the look and feel I’m trying to achieve.

  “No shower?” she asks, stepping back out of the bathroom.

  I grin and point to the door on the back side of the cabin. “Out that way.”

  She pushes her way outside and straight into a secluded shower complete with a tall fence to give the feel of privacy. “Wow.” She laughs. “Did you build this yourself?”

  I nod. “It’s taken me five years for good reason, but the reality so far is better than I could have ever imagined. Want to see the next one?”

  She follows me eagerly then walks slightly ahead of me on the trail. “What ever happened to Bruno? I miss the little guy.”

  My chest squeezes. Her question brings to light just how long Camila was gone. “Raven took him when I went to jail. She loved him and probably would have kept him, but Bruno hated Thomas something fierce. Couldn’t blame him. She ended up giving him back to me a couple years after I got out. He passed away last year.”