by A. J. Pine
Ava slid out of the booth as well, marveling at Jack’s generosity. She wasn’t surprised at the man he’d become, not one little bit. But he wasn’t the only one who’d missed out on these past ten years. He was a natural with Owen. He could have been back then, too, if she’d have been brave enough to have given him the choice.
“I want to help you and Owen, too. I mean—” He scratched the back of his head. “I have money. And a promotion in the works. No matter what, you and Owen won’t want for anything, financially speaking.” He laughed. “As long as this damn vineyard doesn’t sink the ranch further into the hole.”
“I take care of Owen just fine,” she said, the words coming out sharper than she’d intended.
“Of course. I didn’t mean…” He trailed off.
“Look. I appreciate what you’re offering.” But this time she was the one without words. Because how did she tell him that she wasn’t looking for financial stability to come from anyone else? She’d fallen back on her parents in terms of money and an easy income since she’d graduated high school. She didn’t bring Owen here to meet his father just so Jack could offer them more money in the bank.
That was why she was finally applying to school again—why she’d take every cent of financial aid she could get and repay it with an impressive graphic design job—or maybe she could restore pieces at the San Luis Obispo Museum of Art. Whatever it was, she was going to do it. Owen didn’t need money. He needed a father. And she needed…Was it fair to insert herself into this scenario when she should put her son first? Because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking of the what ifs.
What if she fell for him again?
What if he stayed?
What if he left?
Finally she crossed her arms and smiled. What they both needed was a subject change. “Is this where you take me up on my offer to help you get it up and running?”
He sighed. “Jack Senior’s lawyer doesn’t think we’ll get back what he bought it for without it thriving. Keeping it until then might be the only option.”
“Just tell me you need my help, and it’s yours,” she said. “It’s not harvest season, so things are slow at the Ellis Vineyard. I manage the shop and tasting room, mostly, but it’s not hard to get coverage for that if I need to. Plus, I’ve never taken a vacation, and I know the owners. I’ll just have to ply them with extra time with their grandson.”
He raised a brow. “You gonna tell them what you’re doing? Who you’re spending your time with?”
“I don’t answer to them,” she spouted, a little too defensively. Because despite being a grown woman, in a way she did. If it wasn’t for her parents, raising Owen these past nine years would have been a hell of a lot more difficult. “But I also have nothing to hide. So yes, I’ll tell them.” Until she knew how Jack was going to fit into Owen’s life, she wasn’t sure what to tell them.
“Fair enough,” he said, not pressing her to say more. So she didn’t. “Then I guess all that’s left is a question.” He cleared his throat and cocked his head to the side. “Ava Ellis, will you help me restore a vineyard?”
She grinned. “Well, Jack Everett, I thought you’d never ask.”
And just like that, the deal was done. He promised her he’d be in town for at least a month, and in turn she promised him she’d make sure Luke and Walker were well on their way to producing the maiden vintage by the time he left, if that’s what he decided.
For now she’d convince herself that the compromise would be enough. After all, none of this was part of Jack’s plan. She understood that.
He hadn’t planned to drive by the vineyard the other day. But he did. He hadn’t planned on fatherhood, yet he’d just spent the better part of an hour dissecting the friendship between Captain America and the Winter Soldier with his son.
He hadn’t planned on the vineyard, but he was staying to get it off the ground. And maybe—just maybe—Oak Bluff wasn’t where he saw his future.
But maybe now that things had changed…it was.
Chapter Ten
Do not let Luke or Walker mess this up,” Jack barked into his cell phone, and a long pause stretched out between him and his aunt. “Jenna? Did you hear me?”
What he heard was a soft sniffle. Christ. Maybe it wasn’t his brothers he needed to worry about.
“Jenna?” he said again, drawing out her name, and she cleared her throat.
“We—we get to meet him? We get to meet Owen?”
He sighed. He should have realized this would be almost as big of a deal for them as it was for him.
“Yes,” he said. “But we’re going to be there in a couple of minutes, and I need your word that the three of you can handle this, that you can handle not letting him know who you are yet.”
Jack glanced in his rearview mirror to see that Ava’s red Jeep was still behind him. “Of course,” Jenna said. “We can handle this. We won’t tell Owen anything before you do.”
“We can handle it, asshole!” he heard Luke yell into Jenna’s phone. “She’s the one getting all weepy and shit. No worries, brother. We’re not going to blow your cover.”
Jack let out a long breath as they were pulling up the ranch’s driveway. He guessed he’d have to trust them.
Maybe it was a foolish, impulsive decision to invite Ava and Owen back, but something warred within him not to let them go home. Not yet. It had just been lunch, but it was also something entirely more. And Jack had no idea what to do with more. So instead of handling it himself, he’d pawn that responsibility off on the most dysfunctional of families—his own.
He hopped out of his truck and turned to where Ava pulled in behind him. He crossed his arms and tilted his head toward the sun, squinting.
Here went nothing.
He dropped his gaze toward his guests and was startled to see Owen mirroring his stance—arms across his chest and head raised to the sky. Something in his own chest sank. Or maybe it lifted. He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that the sight of this boy—and this place—knocked him off-kilter.
“What is it?” Ava asked, striding toward him.
Jack shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s—uh—go inside.”
Ava shrugged, and Owen’s head dropped so their eyes met.
“This is your house?” the boy asked. His eyes volleyed from the ranch, to the barn and stable, to the cows grazing in the pasture beyond the residence. “Is it a farm?”
Jack chuckled softly, grateful to Owen for breaking the ice, even if he didn’t realize he was.
“This is my house,” he said. “But I don’t live here anymore. My brothers do. And it’s not a farm. It’s a ranch.”
The three of them headed for the porch’s front steps, for the door he knew would open to let Owen and Ava in—to let them past the threshold that was his life.
“What’s the difference?” Owen asked, and Jack ruffled his hair, the strands thick and wavy beneath his fingers. Like his own, yet softer—and red like his mom’s.
His fingers twitched. Then he pulled his hand away.
“Well,” Jack said. “For starters, we don’t grow anything but cattle. And farmers tend to know a lot more about the land—about growing things from the earth.”
Owen nodded as they climbed the steps. “Like Mom and our family does with grapes?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Ava smiling at them. “Yep. Growing grapes is like farming. And it so happens I have some grapes of my own to tend to, and your mom offered to help me learn how.”
He pulled the screen door open and gestured for Owen and Ava to walk inside.
“She’s a good teacher,” Owen said, stepping into Jack’s childhood home. “She taught me how to ride a bike and tie my shoes. She even taught me how to memorize the fifty states in alphabetical order—but not a whole lot of my friends think that’s cool, so it’s kind of our secret.” He looked at his mom and then back at Jack. “I guess you’re in on the secret now, too.”
The b
oy, unassuming and unafraid, strode past Jack and his mom, his curiosity seeming to take over as he started down the hall and toward the kitchen.
“He knows how to ride a bike and tie his shoes,” he said, an unexpected twinge of envy socking him in the gut.
“Yes,” Ava said softly, keen understanding in her tone. “But there’s still so much for him to learn.” She paused for a moment, worrying her top lip between her teeth. “You just taught him the difference between a farm and a ranch. I’m guessing there’s a lot more you could teach him…if you wanted to.”
But there wasn’t time for him to respond because as the door clicked into place behind them, he caught sight of Jenna emerging from the kitchen, her hand outstretched to shake Owen’s.
What did he want? Jack wanted to do right by this kid who had no idea his world could be turned upside down at the drop of a hat. He wanted to do right by his brothers, his aunt, and the woman who’d sacrificed her own future to give him the one she thought he wanted.
The one he thought he wanted.
New York. He was moving to New York. That was his future—one where he could keep the ranch and vineyard financially afloat. One where he could make sure Ava and Owen never wanted for anything.
But even he knew that wasn’t what it meant to be a father. Or a brother. New York was the logical next step in his career. But was it still the logical next step in his life?
Owen turned to them as they caught up. “Mom. This is Jenna, Jack’s aunt, and she said that I can go to the stables with Jack’s brother and that I can ride a horse and go see all the cows, and I know you’re going to say that I’ve never ridden and I could get hurt, but please say yes. I’ll be careful. Please?”
Jenna smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I maybe should have asked you first, but I get a little excited around sweet kids like this one, and he just walked in here, introduced himself, and I couldn’t help myself.”
Jack understood Jenna’s nervous energy, but he kept quiet, knowing this was Ava’s call. He didn’t have a say in what Owen did or didn’t do.
Luke sauntered in from the laundry room off the back of the kitchen and tipped his cattleman hat to his guests. “Did Jenna say I’m taking Shortstop here for a ride?” he asked with a knowing grin.
“Shortstop?” Owen asked, crossing his arms again as he’d done outside. “I’m taller than most of the other kids in my grade. And I’m a pitcher.”
Luke crouched before his nephew, resting his elbows on the knees of his dirty jeans.
“A ball player, eh? Like your friend Jack.” Luke raised a brow at his brother before turning his attention back to Owen. “You may be taller than the other kids,” he said, sizing his nephew up. “But you sure as shit ain’t taller than me.” He winked. “Shortstop.”
Jenna playfully slapped her younger nephew on the back of the head as he stood. “Language, Luke.”
Owen shrugged. “It’s okay. Mom says it all the time.”
Ava gasped. “I do not!”
Jack’s eyes widened with amusement as he waited for the story to unfold.
Owen nodded. “Sometimes when you leave the window open in your painting room, I hear you when Scully and I are playing out back.” He pressed his lips together and looked at the rest of them. “Painting pisses her off.”
Ava’s mouth hung open, and Jack tried to ignore the implication of what Owen had just revealed. The Ava he remembered had loved painting above everything else. Painting didn’t make her upset. It was what she did when she was already pissed off in order to calm down.
“Owen,” he said. “This is my brother Luke. There’s two things you need to know about him. One, he knows horses, and there’s no one better to teach you how to ride one. And two—once my brother gives you a nickname, he’s not likely to call you anything else, so get used to Shortstop. Wear the name with pride.”
Owen let out a breath. “Can I ride, Mom? Please?”
Luke took his hat off and held it against his chest. “I’ll take him out on Cleo. She’s our gentlest, doesn’t mind being led. I’ll never let her go beyond a walk.”
Ava’s shoulders slumped. “You promise he’s safe?” she asked, squinting at the still healing wound on Luke’s cheek.
The man winked again. “Don’t worry. I’ll save the bull riding for lesson two.” Luke clasped a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “What do you say, Shortstop?”
Owen groaned, but he was smiling as Luke led him back the way he came. Ava pressed her lips together—a wince she seemed to be forcing into a smile.
“Don’t worry,” Jenna said. “Luke may be a daredevil when it comes to his own safety, but Owen’s in good, capable hands with him. No one knows those horses like he does.”
The back door opened, and Walker ambled in from the deck.
“Nice of you to make an appearance,” Jack said.
The youngest Everett brother raised the bottle of beer that was in his right hand. “Figured you wanted the family to make a good impression on the kid,” he said with a mild sneer. “And I wasn’t really in the mood to impress.”
Jack opened his mouth to say something but Jenna put a hand on his arm.
“Don’t,” she said softly. “Not today.”
There was enough genuine concern in her tone that Jack let it slide.
He hadn’t realized Walker’s drinking had become this—regular. And how often did Luke get injured with the rodeo shit? Was Jenna happy? And Christ, he had a son who already knew how to ride a bike, tie his shoes, and say the fifty states in alphabetical-fucking-order.
“Jack?” Jenna said, and it sounded like it wasn’t the first time she’d said his name. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head softly, bringing himself back into the moment, and realized Jenna, Ava, and Walker were all staring at him.
“I’m fine,” he said, his words short and clipped. “Ava says we can get the vineyard up and running, that she can help. Once we see if we can turn a crop, we can decide whether or not to put it back on the market. So I thought we could all sit down and talk, figure out a game plan.”
Jenna clapped her hands together. “Is there going to be a tasting room? A gift shop? Y’all are pretty handy, right?” She looked Jack and Walker up and down. “You could, like, build something, right?”
Walker brushed past them, set his empty bottle on the counter, and tore open the stainless steel refrigerator to retrieve another. He peeked around the corner of the door.
“I’m assuming we’re going to be at this awhile. Who else wants one?”
Ava and Jenna both declined, using the fact that they’d both be behind the wheel soon as their excuse. As much as he’d love to dull them, Jack wanted to keep his senses razor sharp. Everything hinged on this damn vineyard—on getting it running so he could get his life back. Whatever that meant.
Walker shrugged. “At least no one can accuse me of not sharing.” He dropped into one of the high-backed wooden chairs at the long kitchen table that Jack still couldn’t believe his brother had made. Jenna and Ava took their seats as well.
“I’m going to grab the paperwork,” Jack said, and made a detour to his office before returning. He sat down, opened a leather-bound binder, and ran a hand through his hair as he started skimming pages.
He shook his head. “What the hell is a Burgundian varietal?” he asked.
Ava’s eyes brightened. “May I?” she asked, motioning for the binder.
“Please,” Jack said, sliding it in her direction. “Translate.”
She laughed. “We grow the same grapes,” she said. “This will be easier than I thought. I mean, I know the varietals and what we can make—pinot noir, maybe. Chardonnay. But I saw the plants, and they’ve not been tended to properly in quite some time. The trick will be producing a viable harvest first.”
“Well,” Walker said, popping the top off his bottle. “You gonna be able to teach us how to do magic?”
Jack shook his head, but she held his brother’s gaze.
&n
bsp; “Yes,” she said. “If you’re all up to the task, then so am I.” She looked at Jenna. “And your aunt is right. You should think about a tasting room, something to get customers in the door so they learn the difference between Crossroads Ranch and Crossroads Vineyard.”
Jenna beamed. “Crossroads Vineyard. I don’t know about y’all, but I love the sound of it.”
Walker leaned forward, resting his elbows on the dark wood of the table. “There is a structure on the outskirts of the property. It’s not complete, but I’ve been out to inspect it. I think that’s where all the tanks and barrels and shit are supposed to go.”
“Liking the sound of it isn’t enough. I’m sorry, Jenna.” Jack rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Shit. It’d be easier to sell it at a loss. This is going to be more than an investment of time. You know that, right?” He hadn’t directed the comment at anyone in particular, but he was sure they knew he meant Walker.
“There is the life insurance payout,” his brother said, and Jack nodded.
“That might scratch the surface,” he added.
“And Jack Senior may have been pissing away his own savings, but I’ve been putting money away—my own account, not that one you set up for me. Plan was to build my own place eventually, but maybe I don’t need to. Not right now.”
Jack’s eyes widened, and the two women looked on, watching whatever was about to unfold—unfold.
“I can’t ask you—” Jack began, but Walker cut him off.
“You aren’t the only asshole who gets to make decisions around here, big brother. If this is what’s best for the financial state of the ranch, then this is where I’m putting my money. Luke can decide what the hell he wants to do, and if you want to add some of your precious lawyering cash to the heap, that’s your decision. But I’ve made mine.”
Jack gave his brother a slow nod. Issues aside, somewhere underneath Walker had a good head on his shoulders. And no matter their differences, his brother was still putting family first.
