Tasting Notes

by Cate Ashwood

  “Here,” he said, offering the small square to him. “Get yourself cleaned up. Small towns are notorious for being rumor mills, and as sexy as I am, we don’t want Mrs. Blumenfeld thinking you came in your pants at the sight of me.”

  West accepted, successfully smearing the sour cream into a bigger mess than it had been. He could hear the throaty chuckles coming from the dickhead standing in front of him as it became clear there was no salvaging the situation without a dry cleaner’s help. He handed the handkerchief back, mumbled a “Thanks anyway,” and walked away.

  Later that night, West sat in the living room, his feet propped up on the heavy wood coffee table, a glass of wine in his hand. It was one of the perks, him being a winery owner now, all the wine he could drink. And tonight he needed more than a glass or two.

  He still hadn’t figured out Rush’s problem with him, and he could admit it made him more than a little crazy thinking about it. It was probably for the best anyway. The man was infuriating, and West had only spent a little under ten whole minutes in his presence. If he had accepted West’s request for help, he might have drowned himself in one of the vats of wine by now. He’d dodged a bullet for sure.

  He hated the way Rush’s eyebrow inched up, just slightly, when he was talking to him, like he believed everything that came out of West’s mouth was bullshit. He was cocky and arrogant and so goddamn big. West wasn’t small, and Rush towered over him, making him feel downright dainty in comparison. West had never been easily intimidated, but Rush held some unknown power over him. Maybe it was the knowledge that if he wanted to, Rush could break him in half like one of those overly dry breadsticks at the Italian restaurant he ate at a few nights prior.

  Whatever it was, it put West on edge, and he didn’t like it. The carefully held control he always maintained slipped a little when Rush was nearby.

  He poured himself another glass of wine and settled back into the sofa. He let his eyes drift shut, and there in the darkness, all he could see was Rush’s face. West hated that his heart sped at the sight of him. He was affected by him; that much was true. He just wished it wasn’t.

  West’s thoughts turned to his grandfather. He wished his grandfather were still alive. He would have loved Canyon Creek. Although they lived in Chicago, his grandfather was from a small town originally. He used to tell West about it, stories from his youth, and how wonderful it was growing up in a place where everyone knew everyone else. West always wondered why his grandfather hadn’t moved them back there after West’s parents died, but he supposed there were more opportunities in Chicago. Certainly that was true once West set out on the business path.

  He finished the open bottle and popped the cork on the next one. Since leaving on this trip, he’d been more emotional than ever. Thoughts of his grandfather stung, the memories as potent as they were the day he died. West missed him, fiercely and completely. He was out of his depth, and without his grandfather for guidance, he felt utterly lost.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Rush set the lettuce into the crisper, trying not to get the leaves caught in the drawer when he shoved it shut. The image of West’s face seared itself into the recesses of his mind, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the memory of West, his guard down, the carefully constructed control slipped clean away, standing in the middle of Gleason’s Market with sour cream on his crotch. Rush laughed. It was the highlight of his day.

  He finished putting away the groceries and pulled a beer from the fridge. It was still warm, but what’s a guy to do? Retiring to the living room, he fell back onto the couch. Casper appeared a moment later, jumping up and resting his head in Rush’s lap.

  He brought the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back, letting the warm carbonated liquid pour down, and thought about the conversation he had with his mom. He still couldn’t quite believe she was leaving. Yeah, Palm Springs was still in the same state, but California wasn’t tiny. It would be at least a ten or eleven-hour drive to get there, which meant the chances of him seeing her and his dad more than once a year were slim. He was going to miss them fiercely.

  They had a right to be happy, though, and he could certainly understand their desire to simplify their lives with retirement. If anyone knew how much work went into running the boutique winery, it was him. He’d felt guilty when he left for school, knowing they’d have to absorb his portion of the workload until he was back for the summers.

  Suddenly, and completely unbidden, he felt a little bit guilty for not at least hearing West out about his request for help. The guy was clearly an asshole, but he was an asshole who was now the person who could destroy Lennox Hill if he didn’t get it right. Wine making could be a fickle business, and someone like West, who likely wouldn’t know a Cabernet from a Coke, could fuck it up so easily. Rush felt a sense of anger at the thought of someone destroying his parents’ legacy.

  He couldn’t let that happen. He had a duty to them to help preserve the business they worked their whole lives to build. They may not own it any longer, but it was built on their blood.

  “Looks like we’re going to Lennox Hill tomorrow, bud,” Rush said, patting Casper’s head.

  THE DRIVE over felt the same as it always did. Rush thought his truck probably could have found its way anywhere in town, but the trip to Lennox Hill was one he’d made at least a few thousand times. It was weird to think the property no longer belonged to his family. Enough of his sweat had soaked into the soil that a part of him lived in that land.

  He parked his truck in the same place as always and opened the door, calling to Casper to jump out before closing the door behind him. The door to the main structure was closed and locked. Rush peered through the windows of the wine room as he walked past, but the lights were off and the space was abandoned. Rush and Casper followed the pathway toward the house. Casper sat down as Rush knocked, waiting patiently for an answer. When none came, he knocked again with a little more force. West’s car was parked in the driveway, so unless he had decided to walk somewhere, he should be here.

  A moment later, the door swung open and West stood there, naked from the waist up, his hair disheveled and his cheeks pink.

  “What the fuck?” he asked.

  Rush saw red, which was a blessing because it kept him from seeing the way West’s body looked beneath his clothes. The guy was sleeping, and it was nearly noon. He’d owned the vineyard for less than a week, and he was already slacking off.

  “Can I come in? I want to talk to you.”

  West stepped to the side to let Rush enter. Rush looked around. Everything was the same as he remembered it. The house was warm and comfortable, begging visitors to come in and stay awhile. Rush had always loved this house. He peered into the living room, noting the two empty wine bottles on the coffee table.

  “Is that a fucking wolf?” West demanded, breaking Rush out of his train of thought.

  “What? No. That’s Casper. My dog.”

  With a subtle nod from Rush, Casper sat next to his master, his eyes glued to West, but quiet.

  West narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”

  “I came to offer my help. You said you needed help, and my mom told me you didn’t know a fucking thing about running this place, so I figured I’d bail you out.”

  “Why?” West looked awfully mistrustful. Rush couldn’t blame him. He didn’t trust West either.

  “Because they’re my family, and you’re the dickhead who bought the place they poured their hearts and souls into. I’m not going to let you run it into the ground because you have some romantic fucking idea about being all sophisticated and worldly, owning your own vineyard. Not going to happen.”

  “Look, what is your fucking problem with me?” West asked, crowding Rush’s space. “You’ve been nothing but a complete bastard to me since the moment you laid eyes on me. I haven’t done shit to you, and you’re giving me a rough time for no goddamn reason.”

  Casper growled, but Rush calmed him with a gentle pat to the head.
“Sue me if I don’t like spoiled little rich kids. You blow into town in your tricked-out sports car and think you can do whatever you want here because you have a shit ton of money. You take what you want without any regard for the people around you.”

  “You don’t know a thing about me, but you think you’ve got my number. Well, you can go fuck yourself. You saw my car, and you made a snap decision about me. You didn’t bother talking to me or getting to know me at all before you rushed to judgment. Maybe you should give me the benefit of the doubt before you tell me who I am.”

  “I don’t need to. I know exactly who you are. I’ve met guys like you. You’re arrogant, spoiled, and selfish. You put on a good front, pretending to be this philanthropic nice guy, but when it comes down to it, you’ll choose your money over everything else.”

  “Oh, for fuck sakes. You storm in here, waking me up and screaming at me. In case you missed the memo, this is my home now. You’re on my property. What gives you the right to show up and give me shit about something you know nothing about?”

  “Your name may be on the deed, but that’s as far as it goes, asshole. Lennox Hill is in my blood, and the last thing I want is for you to completely destroy it out of sheer ignorance.”

  “Well, then there’s something we agree on. It’s why I came to your house in the first place, in case you need reminding about that. I don’t want this place to fail any more than you do, so how about you get your head out of your ass, stop being such a fucking prick, and help me?”

  Rush stared at him, not saying a word. He hadn’t anticipated the conversation taking this turn. Hell, he hadn’t anticipated this conversation, period. There was something there, behind West’s eyes, a kind of rawness Rush hadn’t expected. He stepped forward, his eyes locked on West’s. He felt drawn to him like a compass to north, locking onto that flicker of something unnamable.

  He was not in control of his body. He pulled a quick intake of breath as the space between them evaporated. He was close enough that he could feel the crackle of electricity between them, as tangible as if West was statically charged. One more slight movement and Rush’s lips would brush across West’s.

  “Fine, I’ll help,” Rush said, knowing West could feel his breath as he spoke.

  “But this doesn’t mean I like you,” Rush growled.

  “Understood,” West replied. “I don’t like you either.”

  “As long as we’re clear.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  West’s head was reeling, and it sure as shit wasn’t the lingering effects of the wine from the night before. It was difficult to make heads or tails of what almost happened, but a small part of him didn’t want to try.

  He didn’t understand. Rush barged in like a bear with a bee sting, all ornery and truculent one minute and then crowding into West’s space the next. Not that he could complain about that last part. For a moment, he could imagine what kissing Rush would be like, all that power and passion focused on him. It made him dizzy. Most of West’s dalliances had been civilized, dancing along the border between lackluster and completely dull.

  But it wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. And he didn’t want it to. He was still trying to convince himself that getting involved with Rush was a terrible idea when Rush lumbered off in the opposite direction from the door. West followed a moment later to find Rush in the kitchen, bent over inspecting the contents of the fridge. West took a moment to conduct an inspection of his own before asking, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Getting rid of your hangover. We have work to do.”

  “I’m not—”

  But Rush ignored him. He was busy pulling ingredients out of the fridge that should never ever end up in the same vessel. West cursed himself for not cleaning out the fridge after Charlotte and Jim moved out. He supposed they left food for him, knowing he wouldn’t have anything, but right now the thought of raw eggs, Worcestershire sauce, and Tabasco had his stomach turning over in terror.

  Thinking about it, West realized it was actually kind of sweet, Rush trying to help him feel better. Maybe it was a sign he wasn’t going to move forward with such volatility as he had in the few encounters they had before. But when Rush rummaged through the cupboard and pulled down the bottle of whiskey, it was enough for West to protest. Loudly.

  “I’m not drinking that,” he said.

  “The whiskey’s for me, not you. If I’m spending the day with you, I’m doing it with a buzz.”

  “Who said you’re spending the day with me?”

  “I did. I’m not letting you fuck this up, so tighten your bonnet strings, dickhead. You’re going to get an education today.” Rush thrust a glass containing everything but the whiskey into West’s hand. “Drink this. I’ll make breakfast, and then we’re going to get to work.”

  “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?” West asked, not entirely certain he wanted to be spending the day with Rush after all.

  “Nope. Lucky for you, you’ve got my undivided attention today.”

  “Yes, lucky me,” West muttered under his breath.

  IT WASN’T long before West and Rush were sitting down to a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. West had to admit having something in his belly did make him feel better, and after he swallowed the vile concoction Rush mixed up for him, he needed something to settle his stomach.

  They ate in silence, Casper at their feet, the tension between them building as breakfast wore on. West still didn’t understand Rush’s problem with him, and right now he wasn’t sure whether he was grateful for the help. He supposed he had asked for it, but it wasn’t exactly given freely out of the kindness of Rush’s heart. West felt as though there might be strings attached. Attached to what, he wasn’t certain yet.

  When they finished eating, Rush took both their plates and loaded everything into the dishwasher.

  “Thank you, and thank you for breakfast,” West said.

  “It was nothing. I don’t want to have to catch you if you pass out on me.”

  “You offering that is certainly a change. I would have thought you’d let me fall on the floor.”

  “It wasn’t an offer, and I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

  West nodded.

  “Get dressed. We have shit to do,” Rush grumbled.

  WEST SHOWERED and dressed quickly, not wanting to make Rush wait longer than he needed to. The rebellious twelve-year-old boy that resided in his head tempted him to dawdle, to push Rush’s buttons to see how he would react. A small part of West thought he’d like very much to see Rush ruffled. He didn’t think it was something that happened often. Rush seemed like the unflappable type, a challenge that perked West right up.

  But for now, he resigned himself to behaving. Rush was there to help him, after all.

  When he was ready, he walked back down the hall to find Rush on the floor with his dog. Casper was jumping over him, side to side, and Rush was rolling back and forth, pretending to try to catch him. It was endearing, actually, to see him like that. West didn’t understand the pang that hit him in the gut, but it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling.

  He cleared his throat. “Ready.”

  “About goddamn time,” Rush said, jumping up from the floor and grabbing his jacket. “What were you doing in there? This isn’t a modeling shoot I’m taking you on.”

  “I’m going to take that to mean you think I look good. So thank you,” West said.

  Rush growled something under his breath and wrenched the door open. West’s mind conjured an image of a giant smashing his way through a tiny village. There was nothing graceful or subtle about the way Rush moved through life, barreling forward, pulling everything down in his wake. West was in awe of the raw power that seemed to seep from him.

  Rush ushered him out, Casper bringing up the rear as he led him along a path down the side of the house.

  “We start first with the basics. I’m assuming you didn’t do any sort of research into how to run a vineyard before you decided you
just had to have one,” Rush said, the last few words uttered in a mocking tone.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Did my parents give you a tour of the property before you signed the papers?”

  “They gave me a tour of the house… and part of the winery, but not of the grounds, no.”

  “Okay, then we start at the top and work our way down. Then you’re probably going to want to change your clothes, because there’s work to do, and you’re going to get your fancy pants dirty.”

  West looked down at what he was wearing. A pair of jeans and a navy blue Henley didn’t seem all that fancy to him. In fact, Rush was wearing something similar. He opened his mouth to make a smartass remark but thought better of it.

  “I’m okay in this,” he said. He didn’t want to mention what he had on was the most casual thing he owned. He could keep his mouth shut. He was sure of it. He needed the help, and more than that, he wanted to learn. Why he wanted to learn from Rush, a man who got under his skin like no one ever had, was beyond him.

  Rush set off, walking along the path that led up the hill behind the house. They walked along the rows and rows of grapevines, and West was caught up in the beauty of it. They weren’t far from civilization. In fact, if he looked closely, he could almost make out the red Dairy Queen sign in the distance. Almost. But he felt like they had slipped away into their own little world. The vineyard backed onto the forest, and between the wild vegetation and the cultivated vines, West felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

  Rush showed him the irrigation lines and where the end of the property was. From the top of the hill, he felt powerful. The view was breathtaking. The vines spread out in front of him, fanning across the landscape and leading down to the main buildings that were clustered together like their own little hamlet. Despite the fact that they were only on the cusp of spring, there was a lushness to the land. Every day it reminded him more and more of the vineyard his grandfather took him to. If he really imagined, he could picture his parents walking up between rows of vines, his mom in her wedding dress and his dad in a suit.