The Vineyard at Painted Moon

by Susan Mallery

  “This is about the winery?” she asked.

  He came to a stop. “Yes. Why?”

  “You scared me.”

  His expression softened. “Did I? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s about—” He cleared his throat. “I bought some vines.”

  What did that mean? “You bought plants?”

  Why would he do that? Ignoring the time it would take to have them grow from seedlings into mature vines, that just wasn’t how they did things these days. Painted Moon had excellent rootstock. If she wanted to make changes, all she had to do was buy what she wanted and graft it in. That way she would lose only a year of production.

  They stepped into the big, open building. There was a package about the size of a shoebox sitting on a workbench.

  “No, not vines. I bought these.” He pointed to the box. “Through a friend of a friend, I know a guy in the Bordeaux region of France. He’s had some financial trouble and I helped him out. In return, he’s going to send us these.”

  He lifted the lid. Inside was wet newspaper wrapped around what looked like fat sticks. Mackenzie felt the breath leave her body as she walked closer.

  “Scions,” she said, her voice a reverent whisper. “He sent you scions.”

  “Just a few. He’ll send the bulk of them after the first of the year. It’s better to cut them while the vines are dormant.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “But you know that.”

  She carefully unwrapped the newspaper and stared at the beautiful thick sections of vine. They were healthy, about ten inches long. Grafted into rootstock, they would produce grapes within two seasons.

  She looked at him. “What are they?”

  “Cabernet sauvignon, merlot, petit verdot. He’s sending enough for fifty acres. I have the particulars on the vineyards. His family has been making wine there for about six hundred years.”

  French grapes. He was offering her beautiful, vibrant, elegant French grapes.

  “Do you know what I can do with these?” she asked, feeling as if she was close to touching the face of God. “Do you? We can go traditional. We can have estate-grown wines unlike any others in the state.” She quickly put down the scion and held up her hands. “I’m shaking. Oh, Bruno, I don’t know how you did this, but thank you so much.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Why would I be mad?”

  “I’m kind of stepping on your toes here. You do wines, I do everything else. It’s just when he made the offer, I thought you’d be happy.”

  “I am.”

  She was about to throw herself at him when she felt the oddest sensation in her belly. Sort of a fluttering, bumping, shifting that she’d never felt before. Almost as if—

  “The baby,” she breathed, instinctively grabbing his hand and pressing it to her stomach. “She’s moving. Can you feel it?”

  They both stood there for a second and then it happened again. His eyes widened until he looked as dazed and terrified as she felt.

  “That’s the baby?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Or I have serious gas issues and will probably need a bathroom.”

  “You don’t have gas.” He smiled. “You said she.”

  “It’s a girl. You got your wish.”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Yes. I’m going to call her Amy, after my mom.”

  “That’s a beautiful name.”

  They stood like that, close together, his hand on her stomach, for a few more minutes, but there wasn’t any more movement. Slowly, Mackenzie became aware of their close proximity and the oddly intimate nature of their contact. She released his hand and took a step back.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought you might like to feel her move.”

  “I did. Thank you.”

  She looked away. “Good. I won’t make a habit of throwing myself at you like that or putting your hands on me because—” She told herself to be quiet because she definitely wasn’t making the situation any more comfortable for either of them.

  She cleared her throat. “What I meant was, um—”

  Bruno stepped in front of her. “Stop talking.”

  “I really should.”

  “It wasn’t awkward.”

  She raised her gaze to his. “It wasn’t?”

  “No. I liked it.”

  Feeling the baby move or touching her? Before she could figure out how to ask, he moved closer and slowly, carefully cupped her face in his hands.

  His fingers were warm and held her gently. She supposed she could have pulled away if she wanted to, only she didn’t. When he lowered his head, she knew exactly what he was going to do. Anticipation battled caution. Was she willing to take the risk of what a kiss could mean? What if everything changed and it was—

  His mouth brushed against hers. The barely there contact made her breath catch and the world fall away. She felt heat and tingles and need and a thousand other wonderful things that she couldn’t explain beyond the fact that she knew everything about this moment was right.

  He drew back, still cupping her face, and stared into her eyes. She saw a matching desire, but also questions. He wanted her to be sure.

  She smiled. “We should do that more.”

  “I like how you think.”

  He kissed her again, this time with more intensity. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she pulled him against her. They touched everywhere and she reveled in all of it. Her breasts nestling against his chest, their thighs pressing against each other, his lips on hers in a way that offered and took and made her want it all.

  This, she thought happily. Unexpected and sexy and just plain right.

  When he drew back a second time, they were both breathing a little hard.

  “It’s been a day,” she said, her voice a little unsteady. “I find out I’m having a girl, we feel the baby move, you buy me grapes from France and now we’re kissing. It’s a lot to take in.”

  “Too much?”

  “Just right.”

  One corner of his mouth turned up. “Dinner tonight?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I’ll bring takeout.”

  She laughed. “One of us is going to have to learn how to cook.”

  He put his arm around her and they started back to the office. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll hire a chef.”

  “Of course you will.” She was still laughing when they went inside.

  * * *

  Mackenzie carefully spit the wine into a pitcher, then rinsed her mouth with water. She was working her way through Herman’s barrels on the schedule she’d created for herself, but it was slow going. Life would be much easier if she could just taste the wine like a regular person.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” she told Amy. “I want you to be healthy.”

  She made several notations on the pad on her clipboard. She wanted to start blending in the next few weeks. The response to Stephanie’s first mailing to the Painted Moon customers had been overwhelmingly positive. If everyone who said they were interested in library wines and whatever blends Mackenzie created made a purchase, they would sell out in minutes.

  She felt good, she thought happily. Physically, emotionally. She loved her work, she had finally wrapped her head around being pregnant and she was less than two weeks away from not owing Bruno two million dollars.

  She had an appointment to sign the paperwork to finalize her divorce, and Rhys had put the payout into an escrow account. As soon as the courts did their thing, she would be single and momentarily flush with cash. Ten minutes later, she would wire the money to Bruno, but still. It was heady to think about.

  She was still chuckling at the thought when she heard rapid footsteps on the concrete floor. She turned and saw Barbara rushing toward her. The other woman was pale and wide-eyed, her expressio
n menacing and an odd contrast to her tailored suit and pearls.

  “You have ruined me!” Barbara said, her voice tight as she approached.

  Mackenzie wasn’t afraid, exactly, but she was feeling cautious. She shifted to her right, putting a row of barrels between her and her former mother-in-law.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, careful to keep her voice calm.

  “To confront you once and for all. You stole everything from me and you’re going to have to pay.”

  “I didn’t take anything from you. You’re the one who fired me and tried to get me thrown out of my house. You’re the one who wanted me to sell off my child’s inheritance.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’re nothing to me. Nothing!” She pressed a hand to her throat. “You took the China deal.”

  “What?” Mackenzie came out from behind the barrels and slapped her clipboard on a table. “You wait a minute. You never wanted to do anything with China. We talked about it and you said no every time. Just like you said no to buying land in Oregon so we could make great pinots and you said no to every other suggestion. The China thing is not on me.”

  They glared at each other. Mackenzie recovered first.

  “Barbara, I’m sorry it’s come to this. You were so much to me. I never wanted to hurt you. You were like a mother to me.”

  “I was never your mother. I wouldn’t want a child like you. You came from nothing and you deserve nothing. I trusted you with Bel Après and you walked away.” She narrowed her gaze. “I wish you were dead.”

  The words hurt but not as much as they would have three months ago. Mackenzie supposed that in addition to a bigger belly she was getting a thicker skin.

  She took a second to collect herself. “You’re going to leave now. If you come back again, I’ll get a restraining order against you. As it is, I’m going to talk to Rhys about making sure you don’t have any unsupervised time with the baby. I’ll put it in the parenting plan. Unlike you, Barbara, I protect what’s mine. Now get out.”

  She pointed to the open doorway for emphasis, only then noticing Bruno standing in the shadows. She was grateful for his presence and even more thankful that he was letting her handle the situation.

  “I’ll hate you forever,” Barbara said in a low voice.

  Mackenzie felt a rush of sadness. “I’m not going to say the same back to you. You’re not worth the energy.”

  She picked up her clipboard and studied the notes, pretending she could read them, even with all the emotions pulsing through her. Several seconds later, she heard retreating footsteps, then silence. Barbara was gone.

  Bruno walked over to her. “We’re getting security.”

  “No, we’re going to wait and see what happens. If she shows up again, we’ll go talk to a judge.”

  “Did you mean what you said about making sure she can’t be alone with Amy?”

  “Every word. I’m not trusting her with my child, although she would probably tell me she would rather eat glass than spend time with my daughter.” She gave him a humorless smile. “Regardless, I’m supposed to sign the final documents tomorrow. Do you think Rhys won’t agree to the change? The man wants to be divorced. At this point he’ll do anything to be free. I’m going to take advantage of that.” She shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m asking for anything outrageous. He’ll agree.”

  “You have a ruthless streak,” Bruno teased. “I like it.”

  “I’m kind of impressed myself.”

  thirty-three

  Thanksgiving morning dawned cold and clear. Mackenzie woke at her usual time, a little after six. After pulling on yoga pants and a T-shirt, she drank an entire glass of water, then did her stupid pregnancy yoga video for twenty minutes before heading downstairs for her disgusting protein shake.

  Technically she could have a real breakfast if she wanted, but it was too much trouble to cook. She needed to have protein and the right kind of carbs and fiber. A protein shake was easy.

  Halfway down the stairs, she heard a noise in the kitchen, followed by the smell of bacon. She ran the rest of the way and found Bruno at the stove, bacon simmering and the table set.

  He was intent on his task and didn’t see her at first. A white “Kiss the Cook” apron covered his jeans and the front of his long-sleeved shirt.

  The old fan above the stove was loud enough to cover the sound of her approaching. She walked up behind him and slid her arms around his waist.

  “You’re a surprise,” she said, leaning against him. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  He turned toward her and smiled. “Happy Thanksgiving. It’s a holiday, so I thought I’d slip in early and save you from your protein drink.”

  “That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now go sit down and I’ll get going on the eggs.”

  She sipped the juice he’d poured while he finished cooking. When the toast popped in the toaster, she carried it over to the table. He put down the plates and they sat across from each other.

  “You’re okay with me using the key you gave me?” he asked. “I won’t make a habit of it.”

  “I gave you the key so you could use it.”

  Not that he’d had reason to. It had been only a couple of weeks since their first kiss. They’d gone out to dinner a few times and continued with the kissing, but nothing more. She sensed he was taking things slow for her.

  She took a bite of her eggs, moaned slightly at the deliciousness, then excused herself to go get her phone. When she was back at the table, she turned it so he could see the picture Lori had forwarded. It showed Rhys on a beach, the blonde from the café and the lawyer’s office at his side.

  “I’m sure Lori thought she was hurting me,” Mackenzie said, picking up her fork. “But I’m fine with it. We’ve both moved on.”

  He set down her phone. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am. Oh, and I sent you a wire transfer yesterday. You should have a notification first thing tomorrow.”

  One eyebrow rose. “You paid off the bridge loan.”

  “I did.” She grinned. “It was freeing and yet painful.”

  “Want the money back?”

  “No. Stop. Don’t even kid about that. I owed you and I’ve paid you back. Thank you for the loan. And for buying Painted Moon with me.”

  “You’re welcome.” He put down his fork and met her gaze. “You’re officially divorced.”

  “I am. Single. Pregnant, but single.”

  “I like the pregnant part. It’s sexy.”

  “Hardly, but thank you for saying that.”

  As they stared at each other, she felt a familiar heat blossoming low in her belly. Her already sensitive breasts began to tingle. According to the books she’d read and the slightly embarrassing conversation with her doctor, sex was perfectly fine. She wasn’t supposed to go in a hot tub, but if she wanted to do the wild thing, that was allowed. Wasn’t pregnancy the funniest thing ever?

  He glanced at the clock. “We’re supposed to be at Four’s house around one.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  They would be spending Thanksgiving with her family. Rhys was in Mexico, Barbara had said she wouldn’t be attending any celebration with anyone this year, and Lori was off with Owen’s family, so it was just going to be the fun half of the Barcellona clan.

  “Did you, ah, have any plans for the rest of the morning?” he asked, his voice thick, his gaze sharp with arousal. “After breakfast, I mean.”

  She walked around the table, then drew him to his feet. “Breakfast can wait.”

  epilogue

  Three years later...

  “You have completely blown me away,” Mackenzie said, looking at the outdoor area by the tasting room at Painted Moon.

  Massive awnings provided shade for fifty round tables, each seating ten people. To the ea
st was the dance floor, and to the west was the huge buffet line. Servers would circulate with appetizers and several bars offered wines as well as mixed drinks to their guests. Twinkle lights were strung and the DJ was already setting up.

  “The party’s going to be epic,” Stephanie said with a laugh.

  “Don’t let Avery hear you say that,” Mackenzie teased. “You know how she feels about people our age trying to use slang.”

  They linked arms as they toured the area. Big fans, tucked in with plants, would provide a nice breeze. Thankfully, the weather had cooperated and it would only be in the low eighties when the evening began.

  “I’m glad you and Bruno are doing this,” Stephanie said. “It’s a great tradition. It deserves to continue.”

  “I felt a little weird about it,” Mackenzie admitted. “But you’re right about the tradition.”

  For the past two years, Barbara had chosen not to have the Summer Solstice Party at Bel Après. Last January, Stephanie had come to Mackenzie and Bruno to discuss the possibility of starting up the parties at Painted Moon. They’d given her the go-ahead to start planning it.

  “I was afraid no one would come,” Mackenzie admitted.

  Stephanie laughed. “Why? Everyone wants to be here. We sent out five hundred invitations and we had four hundred and ninety-eight people say yes.”

  “That still surprises me.”

  “You’re so weird.”

  Mackenzie laughed. “That is probably true.” She looked around at what they’d all created together. “This is really good. I’m happy.”

  “Me, too.”

  Mackenzie stepped back and pointed at her. “That’s because you have a shiny new boyfriend.”

  Stephanie blushed. “Liam does make the day more sparkly.”

  Liam was a professor at the local college. Handsome as a movie star and five years younger, he’d swept Stephanie off her feet last fall. Things were getting serious and Mackenzie had a feeling there would be an announcement in a few months.