by Melody Grace
“Are you sure about that?” Jules asked with an impish grin. “Because there’s a Hawaiian pizza with your name on it.”
Reeve laughed, and watched her drive away. A part of him wished she could stay, and keep Frank distracted and on his best behavior But his father was his problem, and he wasn’t about drag Jules into the mess of the Hastings family history. She deserved better than that.
So, he braced himself for battle, and went in search of Frank. Reeve found him halfway down the hill, deep in the vines, checking the grapes with a familiar fever in his eyes.
“They’re really coming along this year,” Frank called over, as Reeve approached. “I’m telling you, this harvest is going to be the one that turns it all around.”
Reeve had to bite back a frustrated retort. How many times had he heard that promise before?
And how many times had it meant nothing?
“Margo says your rehab is going well,” he said instead, trying to keep things civil. Maybe if Frank just checked on the grapes, he could send him on his way without any major drama.“The physical therapist she’s got me seeing is a real SOB,” Frank replied. “Could have made it as a drill sergeant, but it seems to be doing the trick. I can lift my arm all the way up, now.” He demonstrated, reaching for a high cluster of grapes. He paused, examining them closely. “Had much rain?”
“The usual amount,” Reeve replied. He jammed his hands in his pockets, and wondered when he would have to break it to Frank that this harvest would be the last. “Weather says it’ll stay mild through September.”
“Good, good.” Frank nodded, working his way down the row. He poked in the soil, scratched at the bark, and Reeve knew, he’d be out there for hours.
“Come find me at the house when you’re done. I’ll call Margo, let her know you got in safely.”
Frank glanced up. “About that… ” he had an evasive look on his face. “She might be wondering where I am.”
“Dad!”
“She said it was too soon for me to travel. But I had to check on the grapes, you know that, son.”
Reeve grit his teeth. He did know—that when it came to the vineyard, his dad had no sense of reason or responsibility. He turned on his heel and strode back up the hill, calling his sister on the way to let her know Frank hadn’t collapsed and was wasting away in a hospital bed somewhere.
“Oh, thank god!” Margo exclaimed, when he filled her in on Frank’s travel adventure. “He said he was spending the day at a lawn bowls tournament. What the hell was he thinking?”
“That it made perfect sense to take a five-hour bus trip, just to sniff the soil.”
“I’m sorry, Reeve.” Margo’s voice turned sympathetic. “I know you have enough on your plate as it is.”
“It’s fine.” Reeve lied. “I’ll let him dig around out there, and put him back on a bus tomorrow. We might even have a buyer for the place,” he added, even though the thought of Casey-with-a-C tearing up the vineyard for her meditation zone made his chest hurt.
“That’s great news,” Margo said. “Thank you so much, for handling everything.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Reeve hung up, and went to go pour himself a drink. It was almost five o’ clock, and something told him that he wouldn’t be spending a carefree, passionate night with Jules later. Instead, he went and sat out on the back porch, watching the breeze ripple through the vines, wondering how such a beautiful place could hold such mixed emotions.
He shouldn’t care what a buyer was going to do with the property, just as long as it wasn’t his problem anymore. But still, Reeve had grown up on this land, and despite everything, a part of him still felt connected to it. Jules had shown him that this week. To her, the vineyard was fascinating, and seeing it through her eyes somehow seemed to wipe the past away. Teaching her about the winemaking process and all the history this week, he’d remembered everything he loved about the place. All the good memories he had here: Falling in love with the land, and all the possibilities of a simple glass of wine.
How fun it could be.
And then Frank showed up, and things weren’t so simple anymore. Reeve took another drink of whisky, and wondered how his father would take the news that he needed to sell. Not great, he was guessing. He should wait until they had an offer, and it was all but a done deal. Maybe then Frank would finally face the truth, and let go of his crazy dreams.
His phone buzzed with a text from Wes.
Poker night at the bookstore. Bring beer.
He was just considering his answer when Frank joined him on the deck. “You need to be checking the water levels daily,” Frank said, wiping off his hands. “You know it can get dry after a few weeks without rain.”
“Right,” he replied with a sigh. “Because that will make the difference.”
“It all makes a difference, son, you know that. But maybe they do things another way at the big, industrial vineyards.”
Reeve knew he shouldn’t rise to the bait. Frank had always disapproved of his job in the commercial wine industry, ‘working for the dark side,’ as he put it, the day Reeve proudly announced his first big job out of college. To his father, the big corporate companies spelled death to small, local winemakers like him, flooding the shelves with bland wines that didn’t have any of the character or depth. He didn’t understand that Reeve did the same thing he did, just on a bigger scale.
“Who are you working for this time?” Frank continued, taking a seat. “Margo said something about some movie star. Do they even have a palate?”
“That’s what they hire me for.” Reeve replied.
His father made a grunt of disapproval.
“Have you tried some of the wines I’ve been producing lately?” Reeve couldn’t help asking. “There was a great Chardonnay from the French estate, it drank perfectly crisp. And the Australian Pinot, it was one of the top selling new labels last year.”
“Success doesn’t mean anything,” Frank grumbled, and Reeve couldn’t control his temper any more.
“It means paying the bills,” he snapped, getting to his feet. “It means keeping the lights turned on, and not having a stack of final notice demands piled sky high in the office. But you don’t care about that, do you?”
Frank didn’t reply.
Reeve shook his head, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “But you never did think about the consequences. We’ll be lucky to get a dime of profit out of this place for your retirement after a sale.”
Frank looked up sharply. “You want to sell the vineyard? You’ll get the deeds over my dead body.”
“You don’t have a choice!” Reeve exclaimed. “You’re mortgaged up to the eyeballs. The bank’s going to foreclose.”
But Frank waved it away. “They’ve been saying that for years, but they always come around. And I’m telling you, this harvest is the one, the wine’s going to be a showstopper. It’ll put us on the map.”
“What map?” Reeve finally exploded. “The map of hopeless fools? Look around, dad. This place is falling apart! What the hell have you been doing, holding on for so long? You’ve failed over and over, and over again. You lost everything, you drove your family away, and for what?” he demanded bitterly. “When will you get it into your head, this place will never amount to anything at all?”
There was silence, Reeve was breathing hard, hurt and betrayal hot in his veins, but Frank didn’t seem to have heard him. He just gave Reeve an even look.
“Do whatever you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Reeve clenched his fists. He couldn’t stay another minute with him, not like this. “Well, I am.” He snatched up his keys, and headed for the house. “Don’t wait up.”
* * *
Reeve drove into town, frustration still pounding—at himself, as much as Frank. Why did he think his father would see sense? He’d been having the same damn fight for years, and nothing ever changed. Frank was fixated on proving them all wrong about the vineyard—never
mind what anyone said. If losing his family didn’t teach him, nothing would, and every time Reeve got sucked back into his orbit, it just reminded him of all the reasons he’d stayed gone.
He showed up on the doorstep of the bookstore with a couple of six-packs and a scowl. Wes let him in, but he took one look at Reeve’s expression and laughed.
“Yeah, you’re going to lose big if you come in here with that chip on your shoulder,” he said. “Poppy’s playing tonight, and she shows no mercy.”
Reeve took a deep breath. “I’ll snap out of it,” he promised, following Wes back through the dusty, crammed shelves. “I just need to get my mind off… Well, everything.”
“Well, you came to the right place for it.” Wes showed him into the back room, where a table was already set up, with a group taking their seats. “You know Grayson… Jake… Noah… and our resident card shark,” he added, as Poppy greeted him with a smile.
“Cooper’s babysitting,” Poppy said brightly, expertly shuffling the desk. “He knows I need to crush some hapless opponents every once in a while, or I get antsy.”
“Good to know.” Reeve chuckled, and took a seat at the table, already feeling better. Some cards, some drinks, this was exactly what he needed to get the vineyard off his mind.
“Sorry I’m late.” Another newcomer entered, hidden behind a stack of pizza boxes. He dumped them on a side table and grinned. “Nick Sterling, delighted to be joining you.” he introduced himself. He was dressed in a shirt and tie, and spoke with a British accent. He looked around enthusiastically. “You know, I’ve never actually played poker before.”
A chorus of groans sounded. “You don’t ever tell us that!” Noah said, shaking his head.
“Like bait in the water,” Grayson agreed.
“Ignore them.” Poppy flashed Nick a friendly smile, and patted the seat beside her. “Come, sit by me. I’ll help you out if you need.”
“Play nice with the poor man,” Wes said with a grin. “He’s a friend.”
“Me? I’m always nice.” Poppy batted her eyelashes.
“Don’t believe her for a minute,” Wes warned Reeve, as they all grabbed a slice of pizza and got settled. “The first time I played, I lost so badly, I was stuck on festival cleanup duty for a month.”
“I’ll remember that,” Reeve agreed. “What are we playing for, by the way?”
“Yes, what are the stakes?” Nick asked, pulling out his wallet—and an eyepopping wad of cash. “Twenty-dollar buy-in? Fifty?”
The others all exchanged an amused look.
“You can put your money away,” Poppy said gently. “We play for candy here—and glory.”
“Oh.” Nick tucked his wallet away, looking bashful as Wes opened a jumbo pack of M&Ms, and distributed them around the table so everyone had a pile. “Well, does someone want to go over the rules? Just to refresh us all.”
“Like fish in a barrel,” Poppy murmured, but Nick got his refresher, and the game got underway. Reeve had a couple of good hands, and tried to bluff his way out of a couple of bad ones, but it was soon clear that he was no match for the real players at the table: Poppy and Jake.
“It’s like this every time,” Wes commented, watching as the two of them faced off with total concentration. “We keep hoping for someone new to come in and teach them a thing or two about losing.”
“Not me, I’m afraid,” Reeve smiled, going to help himself to another beer. Nick was in the back, too, pouring a glass of wine from one of the bottles Reeve had brought along for the group.
“Hastings… ” Nick said, studying the bottle. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“It’s local,” Reeve replied. “The vineyard is just outside of town.”
“That’s right.”Nick took a sip. “I actually looked at that property when I moved to town. Great size, and those views… But the owner wasn’t interested in selling.”
“You wanted to buy the place?” Reeve looked over, surprised.
Nick nodded. “Thought it might have been a fun project. Keep it as a vineyard, or turn it into a hotel. I’ve got time on my hands these days, and you don’t see a place like that on the market often around here.”
“No, you don’t… ” Reeve sized him up again. The expensive suit, the vintage watch on his wrist… This guy wasn’t just playing ‘what if?’, he was for real. “What did you say your business was?” he asked curiously.
“Absolutely nothing.” Nick said cheerfully. “Wes bought me out of my company last year,” he explained. “So I’ve been bumming around, trying to figure out my next chapter. Wine-making could have been fun, but the Hastings guy wasn’t interested in selling —at any price.”
Reeve felt a shot of hope. If he could sell the vineyard—to someone who wasn’t going to tear the place apart—then he could finally wash his hands of the place. Their money problems would be solved.
“You know, he might not be open to offers, but I am,” Reeve said, trying not to sound too eager. “Reeve Hastings,” he explained, introducing himself properly. “It’s my family’s property, and we’re thinking about making some changes.”
Nick raised his eyebrows, looking interested. “Really? Then we should definitely talk. I’d love to find out more.”
“Absolutely,” Reeve agreed. Nick handed him a card, and they traded numbers. “Let’s get together this week.”
“Hey!” Poppy called through, interrupting them. “Less gossip, more cards.”
Nick shot Reeve a mischievous grin. “What do you say I start playing for real this time?”
He returned to the table before Reeve could reply, and then proceeded to beat them all so thoroughly that he won practically every piece of candy on the table.
“You hustled us,” Poppy said, laughing in disbelief as Nick tossed a handful of his newly won M&Ms into his mouth. “I can’t believe it!”
“No hard feelings?” Nick asked.
“Are you kidding? Now things will finally get interesting!”
“Way to go!” The other guys shook Nick’s hand, laughing, and even Reeve was impressed.
“Just as long as you don’t pull a fast one with me over the vineyard sale,” he said, looking at Nick with new respect. He’d had them all fooled with his overeager newcomer routine, that was for sure.
Nick grinned back. “Don’t worry, I play it straight in business. This was just for fun.”
* * *
They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, but Reeve didn’t head back to the vineyard. Instead, he found himself driving the winding shore road down to the Beachcomber Inn. He knew he’d been wound tight all day over his dad and everything about the vineyard, but the potential of a deal with Nick was a weight off his mind, and now there was only one place he wanted to go.
It was late, but the lights were still blazing through the open door of Jules’ studio in the back, and he could see her inside, stretched on the bed in an oversized T-shirt, working diligently on her laptop. She was deep in thought, fingers flying over the keyboard, and Reeve couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t pretend to understand exactly what her career entailed, but she attacked it head-on, with bold determination.
The way she did everything in life.
He tapped on the doorframe, and she looked up, surprised. “Hey,” she smiled, hopping up to go greet him with a kiss. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“A good surprise, I hope?” Reeve pulled her closer.
“Always.” Jules drew back a little to check his expression. “Everything OK with your dad, or did you come for that alibi?”
“Everything’s fine,” Reeve said. “Well, not fine, but no bodies buried in the vines just yet.”
“Phew.” Jules pretended to wipe her brow, and he smiled.
“I was in the neighborhood… ” he leaned in for another kiss, and Jules laughed.
“This whole town is one neighborhood.”
“That must be why I can’t stay away.”
He kissed her deeply, closing
the door behind him. Jules melted against him, the feeling of her body in his arms exactly right, like she was made to fit there, as he slid his hands over her sinful curves and she moaned into his mouth.
Desire flared. Reeve lifted her in one swift motion, and tossed her gently back on the bed. Jules gave him an irresistible smile.
“And there I was, thinking you’d stopped by for tea and conversation,” she teased.
“Oh, I can talk.” Reeve dipped over her, his mouth skimming her earlobe. “Do you want me to tell you exactly what I’m going to do to you?” he murmured, kissing down the hollow of her neck.
Jules gasped.
“You’ve been driving me crazy all day,” he continued, peeling off her T-shirt. “Imagining you like this.” Jules lay there naked on the sheets beneath him, and damn if it wasn’t the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, her hair spilled out on the pillows and that playful look in her eyes that just about drove him out of his mind.
“Really?” she teased him, tugging his shirt over his head. “Because I haven’t been thinking about you at all.”
She licked over his collarbone, and Reeve groaned. He captured her wrists, pinning them above her head.
“You didn’t think about me doing this?” he murmured, trailing his other hand lightly across her bare breasts, teasing and toying with her nipples.
Jules bit back a moan. “Nope.”
He grinned. “Or this… ?” His hand slid lower, fingers working between her damp thighs.
Jules shook her head, but her cheeks were flushed, and her body leapt to his touch.
“Liar,” he whispered, stroking her slowly, watching her eyes drift shut and her lips part in pleasure.
“Not at all—Oh,” her head fell back, and her hips rose to meet him, and then Reeve had no more words. There was just the rise of their bodies, and the hot, slick friction driving him on, and the look in her eyes, urging him deeper as they moved together.
This was all that mattered. This was where he belonged.
And as he lost himself in her, over and over again, he never wanted the summer to end.
