Tasting Notes

by Cate Ashwood

“What do you want to do today? Bird-watching? High tea? Canasta?” Rush teased.

  West laughed. “While those all sound like attractive options, I was thinking maybe a day at the beach might be nice.”

  “That sounds good to me.”

  “But food first, I think. We never got around to having dinner last night, and while the sandwiches you bought from Annette’s Coffee Cottage were delicious, they weren’t enough to sustain me for a full forty-eight hours.”

  “No shit,” Rush said. He could feel the hollowness of his stomach, and now that West mentioned it, he realized how hungry he was. “Okay, let’s get out of here and find something to eat. Preferably something with meat in it… or entirely comprised of meat would be even better.”

  “So no vegan delights.”

  “Fuck no. Not ever.” Rush was adamant about that. Vegan food had no place in his life. Or gluten free for that matter. He liked his gluten. And meat. Gluten and meat together was even better. Hmmm… he could really go for a steak sandwich. And maybe a loaded baked potato.

  Two hours later, they checked out of the nightmare-inducing Gingerbread Inn, ate their fill of heavy meat- and butter-laden fare, and then made their way to a nearby beach to sit in the sun for a few hours and watch the waves.

  It was peaceful and easy and everything Rush hoped for when he proposed the trip in the first place. The events that unfolded prior to that moment hadn’t gone exactly according to plan. When he suggested they get away for the weekend, he hadn’t anticipated both of them baring their souls and realization dawning on him that he’d gone and fallen in love with the one person he shouldn’t. But somehow, sitting in the sand with West, he couldn’t regret a moment of it.

  They sat like that, side by side, their toes buried in the sand that was only a couple of degrees cooler than perfect, talking about absolutely nothing at all.

  A few hours later, it was time to get back to Johnny’s. They hadn’t moved since they sat down, and Rush’s ass had fallen asleep. He stood, wobbling slightly on stiff legs and holding his hand out to help West up off the sand. He pulled him up and into his body, sliding his arm around West’s waist and eliminating any space between them as he leaned down to press a kiss to his temple.

  “Thank you, Rush.”

  “For what?”

  “For all of this. Everything. Not just the last two days but the last two months. I wouldn’t be here without you. I’d likely be back in Chicago, and probably miserable.”

  Rush could feel the words bubbling up inside him. Those three little words he hadn’t ever planned on, but he pushed them back down, locking them tightly away. A child screamed from somewhere down the beach, breaking the delicate spell. They both turned to look and saw a mother struggling with what appeared to be two toddlers who wanted anything other than to be leaving the beach at that moment.

  “I feel that way too,” West said, “but we should probably get going.”

  “Probably,” Rush agreed, “before Johnny files a missing persons report to get his car back.”

  West laughed and turned toward the area where they parked. They dusted every last grain of sand from their bodies before climbing in. Rush turned on the radio, and they listened to Neil Diamond all the way back to Johnny’s.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The next two months sped by, and before West realized, they were already well into summer. The vineyard took up most of their time. Rush spent most of his days there, helping West. He couldn’t believe how widely his horizons had expanded since the day he’d driven into town. When he purchased Lennox Hill, he hadn’t known much more than that he preferred reds over whites. Now, with a little guidance from Rush, he learned about cane positioning so the vines grew properly between the guide wires, and leaf thinning and hedging so sunlight could reach the spaces it needed to in order to produce the best harvest of grapes possible. It took a lot of time to complete the work, but it was worth it to see the vines growing and maturing the way they were.

  It was honest work, and between the two of them, they kept on top of the tasks that needed completion at both Lennox Hill and Black Mountain. West enjoyed caring for the trees on Black Mountain too, but it wasn’t the same. In a way, he thought of them like teenagers—they weren’t fully grown yet, but they were self-sufficient, and for the most part, they needed little care to keep them alive.

  Grapevines were like infants. They needed to be nurtured and guided, protected and supported. They were much more delicate and required some form of care nearly every day. But West was willing to put the time in to make sure they really blossomed. Of course he cared about whether or not Lennox Hill produced enough grapes to harvest for wine, and he cared that the wine was good—a bad batch could tarnish a winery’s reputation—but it went beyond the financial investment. This became something he was proud of. He learned this from the ground up, just as with venture capitalism, and although he’d taken over a company, he had as much pride for Lennox Hill as he had for Forge West.

  His stomach flopped at the thought of his company. He hadn’t been back in months. Scarlet had been sending him daily e-mails, but apart from a quick scan, he left everything else to his associates. He knew he’d have to go back eventually, but the truth was, he still didn’t know what to do. It was his company, his employees, his investments, but when he thought about Chicago, it no longer felt like home.

  He’d come to be happy in Canyon Creek, and the thought of leaving made West’s insides ache. He could put it off a little longer, he reasoned. Helena and Alex were more than capable of running the company in his absence, and things were going so well in California, he didn’t want to disrupt the delicate equilibrium.

  Rush spent every night—and every day—with West since returning from Eureka. Nothing was discussed, but it became a kind of unspoken understanding they would spend the night either at West’s or Rush’s place, depending on what needed to be done in the morning. The more time he spent with Rush, the stronger he felt about him, and leaving him at this point was not an option. He knew eventually he’d need to make a move in one direction or the other, but he was afraid broaching the “where do you see this going” conversation might cause Rush to run in the opposite direction.

  So for now, they maintained an easy routine together, and West had never been happier.

  “What does everyone usually do around here for the Fourth?” West asked one afternoon. The holiday was only two days away, but West hadn’t even noticed the date on the calendar until that morning. The time he spent in Canyon Creek passed in a blink, and before West realized what happened, it was summer. They had spent all day culling leaves from the vines outside, and now they were sitting down to a glass of wine on Rush’s patio. Casper was curled at West’s feet as he sipped at the full-bodied Merlot.

  “The Fourth is kind of a big deal around here. There’s a parade and a party on Main Street. Traffic is shut down for the day, and then everyone drives up to the lake to drink and watch the fireworks.”

  “That sounds really nice, actually.”

  “What do you usually do to celebrate?” Rush asked.

  “When I was younger, the Fourth was a big deal for my grandfather, being in the Navy and all. He was one of the most patriotic men I’ve ever met. He used to take me into Chicago—we’d go to a huge picnic in one of the parks for lunch and then to watch the fireworks after the sun went down. Recently, though, I haven’t done anything. I was working, usually. Last year I managed to catch a few minutes of the fireworks over the lake during my drive home.”

  Rush frowned. “Well, we’ll have to party extra hard to make up for you missing out all these years.”

  “I have a feeling I’ve been missing out on more than Independence Day celebrations.”

  “You have, but we’re going to fix that. The festivities around here literally begin at sunup. Make sure you get your beauty sleep, Princess, because it’s going to be an early morning.”

  Rush’s voice held such affection, West found himse
lf looking forward to waking up before the sun. Two days later, West realized he minded waking up that early much more than he thought. Months ago his alarm had been set for that time, but weeks and weeks of repose reconditioned his body to appreciate the rest, and now rousing before seven seemed borderline barbaric.

  “Come on,” Rush urged, tugging on West’s hands, trying to get him to sit up. West groaned and swung his legs over the side of the bed. If Rush hadn’t been so cute, his excitement showing through, West would have pulled the covers over himself and gone back to sleep. There was something about a big, burly, bearded man excited to get to the events that swelled West’s heart, though, so reluctantly he stood, his feet hitting the cool hardwood floor as he walked to the bathroom to grudgingly get ready for the day.

  Rush was already set to go by the time West was showered and dressed, Casper looking just as excited to get going.

  “Why are we up before dawn, again?”

  Rush grabbed his keys and shifted his weight from one side to the other as he waited for West to put on his shoes. “Annette is hosting her annual pancake breakfast in the park, and we have to get there before the cinnamon roll pancakes are all gone.”

  “Do they evaporate at the first light of day?” West asked sarcastically.

  “Smartass. No. They’re so good, and everyone wants them, so they go fast.”

  “That still doesn’t justify being up at the butt crack of dawn.”

  “We start before dawn because we’re on the crew getting everything ready for the picnic and parade this afternoon. The kids are all snug at home in their beds, and everything is decorated and set up by the time they wake. I think for most parents, it’s an excuse to have a couple of kid-free hours before the festivities begin. It’s like Christmas in July. There’s a picnic lunch in the park, and then later on, we all bus out to the lake for a barbecue dinner, and then fireworks tonight after dark. The celebration lasts all day, and everyone will be there.”

  “I suppose that’s a good enough reason,” West said, following Rush and Casper out the door. “As long as they have coffee.”

  “They will. And Annette knows you’re coming, so if you’re lucky, she’ll have one of your frou-frou coffees.”

  West grumbled but picked up the pace, walking to the side of Rush’s truck and climbing in.

  By the time they arrived at Bushfield Park, it appeared as though half the town was already there.

  “If I missed out on those cinnamon roll pancakes because you were dawdling, I’m going to take it out on your ass.”

  “If it meant I could have slept in an hour longer, I would have gladly given up my ass,” West said.

  Rush’s eyes darkened. “Later.”

  That one word sounded like a promise, and West felt the surge of heat rush through him. He didn’t think he would ever tire of this. It was incredible to him how deeply he had fallen for Rush after only a few months, and he couldn’t imagine how he would feel if he could stay with him forever.

  He blinked the thoughts away, focusing instead on keeping himself from tripping over his own feet. It was a small miracle he was still upright, but there in the center of the park, he spotted Annette. Her hair was swept up into a perfectly smooth bun, and her floral apron was tied neatly around her waist. She was whisking batter in the largest bowl West had ever seen.

  “Coffee first,” he said, pulling Rush toward the table that had a large metal coffee urn and neatly stacked paper cups. Annette spied them as they made their way toward the station. She set the bowl on the table and hurried over.

  “I’ve got something for you, gentlemen,” she said as she reached under the table and pulled out a weird looking contraption. She grabbed one of the cups and some milk, and a few magical moments later, West had a latté in his hands.

  “You’re a saint,” he said before taking his first sip. “That has some bite to it.”

  Annette laughed. “I knew you’d be coming this morning, and Rush asked if I could do a latté on the spot. There might be a secret ingredient or two in there.”

  West glanced over at Rush, who was feigning innocence. “Predawn drinking is traditional for those who set up for the festivities. You can’t have coffee without a little Baileys in it.”

  “Thank you. Both,” West said. He took another long swig of the hot liquid, savoring the flavor across his tongue and taking solace in the fact that caffeine would soon be hitting his bloodstream. “What can we do to help?”

  “Yeah, put us to work,” Rush added.

  “I think the guys could use some help setting up the bandstand, or you could help get everything organized for the parade. The decorations are under control, but later on we’re going to need someone to head up to the lake and get everything ready for the barbecue this afternoon.”

  “We can help with the bandstand now and then head up to the lake to help there. Is Jason looking after the fireworks again this year?” Rush asked.

  “He is. And his son is assisting him for the first time. Last I heard, they loaded up the barge and were floating it out to the middle of Springwood Lake this morning.”

  “Parker? That’s great. He’s followed Jason around like his own personal shadow every year, wanting to be a part of it. I’m glad he’s finally old enough.”

  “Yeah, he seemed pretty thrilled about it. Anyway, I should get back to the pancakes,” Annette said, glancing over at her daughter, whom she left in charge of the griddles. “Brynn looks like she’s being swarmed.”

  “Well, yeah. Those pancakes are damn good. You got any of the cinnamon ones left?”

  Annette winked at him. “I might have set aside some of the mix for you.”

  “West was right. You are a saint,” Rush said

  They followed Annette back to the pancake station and stood patiently while she took over for Brynn, whipping up some cinnamon roll pancakes especially for them. West dug in, understanding immediately why Rush was so eager to get there for them.

  When they were finished with their breakfast, full and properly caffeinated, they set off to get to work on the bandstand. They found the men near the back of the park, erecting the structure between two copses of trees in an open grassy area.

  “You guys need any help?” Rush asked as they approached.

  “That’d be great,” one of the guys said, turning and handing Rush a wrench.

  Rush made the introductions as the men busied themselves with bolting the side supports to the main stage area.

  West repeated the names over in his head, trying to commit them to memory. “Nice to meet you.”

  They got to work, the guy in charge, Brad, directing them on how everything should fit together. West had never been the down and dirty, build shit with his bare hands type guy, preferring indoor activities and academics instead, but since he arrived in Canyon Creek, he realized he had changed. He rose to the challenges, taking on the physical labor around the winery and jumping into helping Rush with his trees as well. He hadn’t balked at a little hard work and getting his hands dirty. He wasn’t overly adept with a screwdriver, but he did his best, and before he knew it the bandstand was up. The construction didn’t even appear all that shoddy, and West felt a little surge of pride and happiness at having accomplished building something and being a part of the community.

  He stood back and looked around, impressed at what the small group of volunteers could bring about. The park was transformed from a peaceful place for families into a space that looked a little like Uncle Sam puked patriotism all over everything. Twisted red, white, and blue streamers created the backdrop for the bandstand, while balloons created the frame for the stage.

  Crepe paper fans hung from the ceiling of the covered stage, and flags hung from branches of the trees. There were tables set up along one side of the park, draped in American flag tablecloths, with red plates, white cutlery, and blue cups stacked at the edge. There was a large vase that held hundreds of tiny flags in the center, surrounded by red and white carnations.
/>   It was all quite incredible.

  “This looks amazing,” West said as Rush handed him another cup of coffee—this time plain old drip.

  “It does. Diane is the head of the decorating committee, and she outdoes herself every year. I have no idea where she finds the time, but the Fourth is her crowning glory. She spends all year planning and collecting the decorations. City hall has a room set aside just for her to keep everything in. We should get going up to the lake, though. It’s getting later, and we want to make it back down in time for the parade.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They walked the short distance to Rush’s truck and climbed in. The air was already heating from the sun, and West rolled his window down and stuck his arm out. Rush pulled onto the street and headed out of town, along the winding road that led to the lake up the hill.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The setup at the lake didn’t take any time at all, and then Rush and West were back in town waiting patiently with a group of other people for the parade to kick off the celebrations. Rush pulled West in close for no other reason than he wanted to. There were quite a few people sitting in folding lawn chairs along the side of the road, but the majority of the town’s population was in the parade.

  The mayor stood on the second-floor balcony of city hall, ready with his microphone to do the announcements as the different groups passed through. Annette and her daughter sidled up next to Rush and West.

  “Mind if we join you?” Annette asked.

  “Not at all,” Rush replied.

  A moment later, the mayor’s voice was amplified over the crowd as he gave a brief introduction. Annette threw her arm around Rush’s shoulders and squeezed tight when the mayor reminded everyone to keep the armed forces in their hearts that day. West gripped his hand a little tighter.

  The music started then, a soft melody floating over the street as the high school band marched closer. They were led by a row of baton twirlers in patriotic costumes, the same ones that were used every year since Rush attended that same school. The gold tassels were a bit frayed, but it didn’t hamper the spirit of the students who marched proudly down the middle of the road.