Tasting Notes

by Cate Ashwood

  West mentally shook himself free of the memories. It wouldn’t do any good to get choked up in front of Rush.

  “Why are there different plants at the end of each row?” West asked, focusing on something else.

  “I’m surprised you noticed they were different.”

  West shot him an unimpressed look, which Rush didn’t seem to notice.

  “Those are rose bushes. They’re extremely susceptible to mildew, so they act as the canary warning system. If they get sick, you know there’s a problem.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “It’s simple but effective, and it really jazzes up the place, don’t you think?”

  Was that a joke? Had the Hulk cracked a joke? West smiled and nodded.

  “Most of the work you’re going to need to take on in the coming months is going to take place out here in the upper vineyard and down in the lower one. We’re right in the middle of budbreak right now, so your main job is going to be keeping the area around the vines clear. You’ll need to mow every two weeks and till the soil, and now is the time that the wildlife starts to become a problem, so there’s that to deal with too.”

  West conjured up an image of mowing the entire property with the same kind of push mower he used when he was a kid to take care of his grandfather’s yard. He remembered how long it took him to trim the front and back yards. Mowing the entire vineyard was going to take him all week.

  “Come on. I’ll show you where they keep the heavy equipment.”

  “Heavy equipment?”

  “Yeah, they use a John Deere mower and tiller.”

  West exhaled a sigh of relief. Rush stopped and turned to look at him.

  “I’m assuming you’ve never mowed a lawn before. I’ll have to teach you that too.”

  “I have too,” West said, aware his words made him sound like a petulant child. He stopped himself before he added “and you’re not the boss of me.”

  Rush actually looked surprised, and West felt a sudden stab of pride for having broken one of the preconceived notions he seemed to have about him.

  “I used to mow my grandfather’s lawn, but I’ve never used a ride-on mower.”

  Rush shrugged. “It’s fairly simple. If you can drive a car and you’re not an idiot, this shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

  “Uh, thanks. I think.”

  They came to two of the large outbuildings behind the main house in the center of the property. They were twins, standing next to one another, and were constructed from wood, old wood by the looks of it, grayed and weathered with age. They were both at least two stories high, the roofs entirely covered in grasses, but the structures looked solid.

  “The one on the left is the barn, and the one on the right is the bottle cellar,” Rush said. He inserted a key into the lock and slid the door to the bottle cellar open. The interior was functional, with boxes of empty bottles stacked floor to ceiling on all sides. They were separated and labeled by type, the sections clearly marked off. The floor looked like it was made of reclaimed hardwood. There was a feeling of deep nostalgia about the place, even if it was unlike anywhere West had set foot before.

  “Look at this,” Rush said, stepping into the center of the room and crouching.

  There in the floor was a latch of some kind West hadn’t noticed upon first glance. Rush tugged hard and pulled open the hatch in the middle of the room.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “What’s down there?” West asked.

  “Come look,” Rush said, stepping back so West could walk past him, carefully treading down the steps that were set into the floor.

  He watched, waiting for the reaction. He wasn’t disappointed. The expression on West’s face changed as he took in the surroundings in the cellar. The back wall was floor-to-ceiling shelves that held row after row of bottles. Librarian-style ladders permitted access to the higher stores. All along the walls were deep-set alcoves, accessible through arched stone doorways, and inside were even more shelves set into the walls. Everything was lit by lights that hung from the ceiling, giving it an intimate feeling. He had to admit it was quite impressive.

  “This is incredible,” West said.

  “Yeah, my dad’s pretty proud of it. He designed it a few years back. He said he wanted a sophisticated wine collector’s Batcave.”

  “I’d say that’s what he got.”

  Rush nodded, remembering how he watched the excitement build as Jim explained how amazing it was going to be. His vision translated even better into real life than he imagined it, and when it was finished, Rush thought it was one of the coolest places he’d been.

  “It looks rustic, but it’s temperature and humidity controlled,” Rush said, repeating Jim’s words.

  West took some time to really look around the place.

  “I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that this is mine now,” West said, his voice a little dreamy.

  Rush bristled at that, the realization the building his dad was so proud of no longer belonged to him, but he’d be damned if West hadn’t become slightly less annoying during the morning they spent together. He managed to keep his mouth shut at least.

  They finished the tour of the cellars, then headed next door to take a look inside the barn. It was much less spectacular, housing heavy equipment and farming supplies rather than elegant architectural details and hidden spaces, but it was necessary for West to know his way around it.

  He spent time explaining how each piece of equipment worked and what it was used for, and as the morning wore on, he was surprised to find he was much less irritated about the whole scenario than he had anticipated. He was enjoying himself, much to his surprise.

  “That’s it for the tour of the vineyard side of it. There’s a lot more to the winery side, but you won’t need to know much until after the harvest.”

  “When does that happen?” West asked.

  “Not until early fall.”

  West looked thoughtfully at him. “I don’t know if I’m going to be here then.”

  Illogically, Rush could feel the anger welling in his chest. He should be thanking his lucky fucking stars West was thinking about leaving, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way.

  “What?” West asked, staring at him intently. There was a shrewdness to his gaze. He was being appraised, and a sudden jolt of disquiet pierced through him at what West might see.

  “I don’t understand you. Why the fuck are you here? Why am I here? You said you bought this place. I thought it was because you wanted to run your own winery. Is it just an acquisition for you? And if so, then why the fuck am I wasting my time teaching you all this shit if you’re going to take off? You could hire someone to do this for you.”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  “Well fuck you. Fuck you twice, actually. Canyon Creek is a small town. You weaseled your way in, and now you’re going to disrupt the balance of the community even more by bringing someone else in here who doesn’t understand us any better than you do? Two snakes in our grasses. We don’t need you.”

  “Whoa,” West said, stepping forward.

  Rush wasn’t sure what his intention was, but suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room, even though the large doors to the outside stood open.

  “I didn’t say I was leaving for sure. I don’t know what I’m doing yet. Clearly. But I feel like I keep running over landmines with you. I don’t need your shitty attitude. I drove through Canyon Creek. I liked it here. I wanted to stay awhile. That’s all there is to it so far. Yeah, I bought this place on a whim, and yeah, maybe it was a mistake. Financially, who knows? Personally? I’m beginning to think so. But I didn’t come here to fuck up ‘the balance of the community,’ whatever the hell that means. So how about you give me a fucking break? I may have asked for your help, but I’m beginning to regret you agreeing to give it to me.”

  Rush was taken aback. He didn’t know how to respond. The way West was crowded into his space and the fervor with which he spoke
reminded him of their almost-kiss back in West’s kitchen. It was the last thing that should have been on his mind—he’d managed to avoid thinking about it all morning—but here it was, back in full technicolor, playing like an HD IMAX film in his head.

  “I’m sorry” was all he could manage.

  West looked surprised by the apology, and to be honest, Rush was just as shocked. He was still pissed off. Pissed off and more than a little horny, but that was neither here nor there. He came to Lennox Hill with good intentions, and Rush was a man of his word. He told West he was going to help him, and that’s exactly what he was going to do.

  “I’ll keep my opinions to myself,” Rush added.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help. I do. And I understand you don’t know me. I’m an outsider, but please believe me when I tell you I’m not a bad guy. I didn’t come here hoping to destroy the small town charm that is so abundant here. It’s what kept me from driving out past the city limits. If anything, I’d like to be as protective of it as you are, so how about we call a truce, and you can finish the day by bossing me around?”

  Rush nodded. “That will work.”

  By the time they finished the tour of the property and Rush explained the maintenance required to keep wildlife from destroying the vines, the sun had dipped lower in the sky. Rush’s stomach rumbled, reminding him they had worked through lunch, but it was now closer to dinner.

  “I don’t think we have time today to get the mowing and tilling finished,” Rush said.

  “Is that going to create problems?” West asked.

  Rush shook his head. “My dad was diligent about it. I’m sure he would have done one last mow before you took possession. The grass and clover don’t look too overgrown. I think it’s safe to wait until tomorrow.”

  Rush thought he saw a moment of unease flash across West’s face, but it was gone before it could properly register.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow and help you out, if you want.”

  West exhaled. “That would be great. If you don’t mind.”

  “Perfect. Nine work for you?”

  “Sure. I’ll be ready to go.”

  “And make sure you wear something a little more work appropriate,” Rush reminded him.

  “Hey… uh, if you’re not doing anything right now, I was going to go back to the pub for dinner. My treat for helping me so much today?”

  “No. Thanks. Casper and I should be going.”

  “Oh, okay,” West said.

  Did he sound… disappointed? Rush pushed the thought from his mind. He was probably lonely, being in town all by himself. Rush couldn’t blame him for not wanting to eat alone, but they’d already been together for hours, and Rush had some things he wanted to work out in his head before they spent another day together. Adding dim lighting and alcohol to the mix probably wasn’t the best idea, with the way Rush’s mind kept wandering back to how West’s body felt so close to his. He needed to get his shit together and stop thinking with the wrong head.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow. And Rush? Thanks for today. For everything. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m really not that bad, once you get to know me.”

  Rush was worried West was right.

  Cracking open another beer, Rush settled into the couch. He’d been sitting there for nearly three hours, staring at his TV. He couldn’t have said what was playing. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he tilted his head back and let the cold liquid slide down his throat. His mind was starting to fuzz around the edges, and it was just enough he could stop remembering in such vivid detail the way West smelled and the way his lips parted when Rush crowded in on him.

  It was easy to imagine what he would be like in bed. Rush was willing to bet he was responsive as fuck and more than willing to please. Just how he liked it. He shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. It would do him no good to get himself all worked up. For all intents and purposes, West was off-limits. It wasn’t only the fact that West was rich, although that alone was enough to turn Rush off the idea of hooking up with him. He scrubbed his hand down his face and leaned forward, placing the frosty bottle onto his coffee table. He wouldn’t think about it. He would not. He’d kept those memories buried for years, and there was no reason to start dredging up the past now.

  West was in a completely different league, and to top it off, he was leaving. Rush wasn’t looking for serious—his relationship with Sebastian had been perfect in that regard—but he knew getting involved with West would be messy.

  The almost-kiss that morning was a royal fuckup, and he wasn’t apt to repeat it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  West closed the door and leaned against it. He was feet away from where Rush had been when he almost kissed him that morning. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then. West was drawn to Rush, he wasn’t going to try to deny it, but he couldn’t seem to get a read on him. West had spent years studying people, and he prided himself on being able to understand motivations and behaviors within a few minutes of meeting someone, yet Rush remained a mystery.

  His stomach rumbled. He realized the scrambled eggs and toast he ate for breakfast were long since digested, and he was starving. Still feeling like an idiot for inviting Rush to dinner, he tried to put the humiliation behind him when he grabbed his wallet and headed for his car.

  Rejection wasn’t something West was all that accustomed to anymore. Not since he was a freshman at college. Since then he made decisions carefully and with an overabundance of research. Often there was a pros and cons list involved, albeit in his head. All his moves were calculated five steps ahead, but since the day he left Chicago, he’d been making choices on a whim, something that was so far out of character for him, he felt like he was becoming someone else.

  His latest misstep, though, should have been avoided. Rush made it clear he didn’t like West, the almost-kiss notwithstanding, and the declined dinner invitation was something West should have seen coming. He wasn’t thinking, though. After the day they spent together, it seemed automatic to invite him to eat.

  He shook his head, brushing off the feeling of rejection. It was no big deal. He’d go alone. He’d eaten out alone before. Hell, most meals were consumed by himself. It was only when he had a business meeting or his secretary took pity on him that he ever had company. Now that he thought about it, his life for the last few years had been pretty dull.

  He hadn’t always been such a loner. In college he even had friends. Lots of them. But as his time there wore on, the academics became more demanding, and studying took up more and more of his time. Slowly he and his friends drifted apart without West ever really noticing. He never thought of himself as being particularly lonely, but there was a certain emptiness to his life—one he filled with meetings and research on potential investments.

  That needed to change. He picked up his phone and dialed.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Rosie, it’s West. I know it’s last minute, but I was wondering if you would like to grab a bite to eat with me at the Pour House. If you already have dinner plans, I understand.”

  “I’m all alone tonight for dinner, but I have a better idea than the pub.”

  “Sure, I’m up for anything. You want to go out for Mexican? Chinese? Greek?”

  “No Greek in town, but I have something better in mind.”

  “Are you going to tell me what it is?” West asked, suddenly not so sure he’d made the right decision in calling Ambrose.

  “Nope. You’ll have to wait and see. I’ll be there in twenty.”

  “Uh, sure. Okay. See you soon.” West hung up the phone and glanced around the little house. It was clean enough, he supposed. He hadn’t lived there long enough to make any sort of major mess, but he usually relied on a housekeeper for the day-to-day stuff. Here he was on his own. He supposed he had to go back to washing floors and scrubbing toilets, like he did when he lived with his grandfather.

  True to her wor
d, Rosie arrived twenty minutes later. He heard a loud boom at his door, announcing her arrival. He rushed over and pulled it open, to find Rosie standing there, arms laden with grocery bags. She had clearly used her boot to knock, since she didn’t have a free hand.

  “What’s all this?” West asked, taking the bags from her and inviting her inside.

  “I brought groceries. I figured I could pass on my culinary knowledge to you. Since you’re sticking around awhile, it doesn’t make sense for you to eat out every night. It’ll cost you a fortune.”

  West didn’t mention he could easily have bought the whole town without making much of a dent in his bank account. When people found out how much he was worth, it tended to change the way they interacted with him. At Forge West, he enjoyed being intimidating and counted on his prospective clients harboring a sense of fear in his presence. It helped keep the respect level up, and when people were nervous, it was easier to spot inconsistencies in their stories.

  But in real life, his wealth tarnished the few connections he made. He knew people in town would know he had money—no one walks in and drops five million like it’s nothing unless they have cash to burn—but how much, West wanted to keep to himself for as long as possible.

  “Well, that’s incredibly sweet of you, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be a very good student. My grandfather tried to teach me, and it seems I can’t be taught.”

  “You let me be the judge of that,” Rosie said, unpacking the contents of the bags onto the counter.

  West surveyed the items. There seemed to be quite a few green things. He thought they were herbs, but he’d be damned if he could tell which ones.

  “What are we making?” he asked.

  “We’re going to start off with something basic. I thought we could try a simplified chicken parmesan, pasta, and a quick little salad.”