Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Beckett
Armed with a chainsaw, I stride to the edge of the woods and unleash my pent-up frustration on a fallen tree.
I hate to lose—control, money, my temper, my sanity. But over the past two weeks I’ve done a damn good job of losing my grip on all of them.
After sawing off the limbs, I cut the trunk into twelve-inch logs and make a few trips back and forth with a wheelbarrow, unloading all the wood onto the lawn at the side of the house.
I set a piece of wood on the chopping block and line it up with the blade, lift the axe above my head and swing. With two more strikes, the wood splits down the middle with a satisfying crack, and I split the remaining pieces in two.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack . Splintered wood goes flying as I work my way through the pile on the scrubby lawn.
The temperature has risen a good ten degrees since I’ve been out here and the afternoon sun is beating down on me, sweat suctioning my T-shirt to my skin.
Don’t ask me why I’m chopping firewood in July. I just am. But there’s something satisfying, almost primal about swinging an axe, and with each strike of the blade, I can feel a little bit of the tension draining from my body.
Caiden’s music drifts from the roof—The Revivalists’ “It Was a Sin.” A slow lamentation. Regrets. An apology.
My father never apologized for his actions.
Not when I was thirteen and he shipped me off to boarding school.
Not when I was fifteen and buried my mother.
Not when he showed up at my office under the guise of making amends last year.
Would I have forgiven him? Probably not. But he could have at least tried.
I set the axe down on the tree stump, tug my T-shirt over my head and use it to wipe the sweat off my face.
“Finally,” Daisy says, sauntering across the lawn. Her hair is hanging loose around her shoulders, and she’s changed out of her work clothes into a loose tank top, short shorts and flip-flops. “You’re fulfilling all my fantasies. A sweaty, shirtless lumberjack. You should grow a beard and start wearing flannel shirts, you sexy beast.”
Ignoring her, I ball up my T-shirt and toss it on the lawn then set another piece of wood on the chopping block, poised to strike again. But Daisy moves to my side so I lower the axe and shoot her a withering glare that would make anyone else cower in fear or at the very least, back the fuck off.
Not Daisy though. She moves even closer until she’s standing right next to me, practically glued to my fucking side.
“Can I try?” She holds out her hand and wiggles her fingers like she’s expecting me to just hand over the axe.
“No.”
Undeterred, she darts in front of me and inserts herself between me and the chopping block. “Come on,” she pleads. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”
“You can’t always get what you want.”
She grins. “But you can always try.”
Just as I suspected. She wants something, but I have yet to discover exactly what that something is.
She’s obviously expecting a favor in return for her good deed. Quid pro quo.
Why else would she have stood up for me earlier?
“You’re a health and safety risk. You have no idea how to do it.”
“Then show me.” Before I can stop her, she grabs the axe out of my hand, spins around and presses her back against my bare chest.
I take a step back. “I’m not going to show you anything.”
She looks over her shoulder with a playful smile. “What’s wrong, Beck? Are you scared?”
That was always her line as a kid. Even at seven and eight, she’d already mastered the art of taunting.
Her gaze roams down my bare chest before her hazel green eyes meet mine. Sometimes they appear to be green. Sometimes brown or stormy gray. In the sun, the brown specks are amber gold and the green and gray almost translucent.
And isn’t it just like Daisy to have mood rings for eyes?
“You want to wield an axe, Daisy?” She gives me a little nod, her tongue swiping over her bottom lip, and I’m beginning to think Caiden was right—I can never say no to Daisy.
That’s the only logical explanation for why I move in closer and wrap my hands around the handle just below hers.
Either that or I’m a masochist. She’s pressing her ass against my crotch, on purpose, no doubt.
“Stretch your arms out in front of you.”
When she does as I say, I carry on giving her instructions like I’m the resident wood-chopping expert and my sole mission in life is to teach her the tricks of my trade.
“Line up the blade so the tip hits the edge of the wood.” I bend my arms and tap the spot she needs to hit with the blade.
“You’re too close.” My voice is low, mouth close to the shell of her ear, and a little shudder rolls through her body.
I can feel it reverberating through mine like the aftershock following an earthquake.
“Your arms need to be fully extended.” We both take a couple of small steps back until she’s lined up correctly.
“Now what?” she asks quietly, relaxing her shoulders and leaning into me.
Her back is warm against my chest and the silky strands of her hair brush my skin. Every time I inhale, her scent fills my head—orange blossoms and jasmine. Summertime and lost youth. Sunshine and California dreams.
An unwanted temptation .
I take a step back and move to the side, giving her a wide berth while I watch to make sure she’s lined up correctly and won’t end up with a blade in her foot.
I’d end up being the poor sucker who has to drive her to the ER.
“Raise the axe above your head. Bring it down in one fluid motion. And don’t forget to bend your knees.”
She raises the axe above her head, and without a second’s hesitation, she strikes.
And…the blade gets wedged in the wood.
Not bad for a first try but I’m not about to encourage her to do it again.
Daisy’s a loose cannon. Who knows where the axe will end up the next time?
“What did I do wrong?”
“Everything,” I say brusquely as she starts pulling and tugging to free the axe, digging her heels in and putting all her strength into it.
“Not like that.” I nudge her aside. “You’ll end up stabbing yourself.”
After safely removing the blade, I stow the axe in the woodshed, stack up the firewood, and pull a tarp over it. “That’s enough fun for one day.”
“What’s wrong?” she teases. “Scared I’ll bury it in your back?”
I brush past her. “Haven’t you done that already?”
She sighs loudly. “You need to get over it. I don’t know why your father left me half of everything but it’s old news so just live with it. Unless you want to walk away,” she says, goading me as we round the side of the house. “It’s entirely your choice. No one is holding a loaded gun to your head and forcing you to stay.”
I walk through the front door and down the hallway, hoping to lose her but no such luck. She’s right behind me, her flip-flops slapping against the limestone tiles, like a yappy dog nipping at my heels. “And give you the satisfaction of walking away with everything? Never.”
I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and chug half of it then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and catch her staring at me. I hold her gaze and we play that game where the first one to look away loses.
Once again, I win. She can’t play that game for shit. Daisy is always moving, always looks like she’s in motion, even when she’s standing still.
She hops onto the counter, kicks off her flip-flops, and pulls a bowl of blackberries into her lap. She probably picked them from the bushes down by the creek. I haven’t even ventured down there yet. Have barely set foot on this property.
She pops a berry into her mouth and moans. Whenever she eats something she loves, she sounds like she’s having an orgasm. “So good,” she says, offering me a blackberry, which I decline.
I chug the rest of the water and toss the empty bottle into the recycling bin then head for the door.
Her words stop me in my tracks.
“If you walk away from this, I will too,” she says from right behind me. “Just say the word and I’ll follow you out the door.”
Slowly, I turn to face her.
If I walk away, she stands to gain everything.
Why would she side with me?
I drew the battle lines from day one and declared her the enemy. I’ve never once treated her like a friend, so this has to be a trick.
“What game are you playing?”
“I didn’t realize this was a game. But you know how much I love a good game.” Her smile is so devious that for a brief moment, it reminds me of Astrid.
Something about that smile and the challenge in her tone makes me snap. I grasp her chin roughly and force her eyes to meet mine.
Her mouth parts and she licks her lips, wetting them. “If you want to kiss me, just ask,” she says, her voice coming out breathy.
I drag my thumb over her lush bottom lip, noting the way her breathing gets shallow and her eyes dare me, Just do it .
“If I wanted to kiss you,” I say, my voice low. “I wouldn’t ask for permission.”
Her eyes flare but she doesn’t look scared. She looks excited.
I’ll bet she likes it rough. I’ll bet she’s not afraid to get dirty.
And I’m imagining every dirty thing I could do to her as her tits press against my bare chest and my dick strains against the nylon fabric of my shorts.
Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe I just need to fuck her out of my system.
But as soon as the thought enters my head, I dismiss it. That would be a recipe for disaster.
And as tempting as it might be, I’m not going to kiss her. I shouldn’t even be touching her.
I drop my hand to my side like her skin burns and take a step back.
“What’s your deal, Daisy? What’s your hidden agenda?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “The truth. If you’re even capable of it.”
“I meant what I said. If you leave, I’m leaving too.” Her eyes meet mine, gaze unwavering, chin lifted in defiance. “We’re either in this together or not at all.”
“You’d walk away from tens of millions of dollars?” I ask skeptically. She nods. “Why?” I prompt.
She swallows, her gaze drifting to the window. “It wouldn’t be right to end up with something that should have rightfully gone to you,” she says quietly. “I don’t need that kind of bad karma in my life. And…”
Daisy bites her lip, brow furrowed like she’s trying to solve a complicated equation. “Your father wanted this to be yours but for whatever reason, he didn’t give it to you outright. He should have but he didn’t.” Her eyes meet mine and she arches a brow. “Why do you think I agreed to do this in the first place?”
The answer is so obvious I can’t believe I even have to say the words. “The money. Why else would you be here?”
“Oh, haven’t you noticed?” She plants her fists on her hips. “This is just an extended summer vacation for me. An unpaid vacation where I’m working six days a week but who cares about the details?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be cashing in soon and your three months of hardship will all pay off.” Just saying the words leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“There you go again!” she cries, throwing up her hands. “Not everything is about money, Beck.”
“Next you’re going to tell me you don’t care about money.”
“I don’t,” she says. “I’m realistic enough to know that money is a necessary evil but I’m not chasing the almighty dollar. I’m not here for the money. I’m here for you.” She stabs her finger at me. “I’m doing this for you .”
I huff out a laugh. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe that.”
“God, you’re such a cynic. But just stop and think about it.” She starts pacing, gesticulating with her hands. “If I was just in it for the money, I would have tried to cut you out. I would have told Harold you’re not lifting your weight around here.”
She spins on her heel and glares at me. “If I was anything like my mother, I would have found a way to prevent you from even showing up. And I would have ensured that you never walked away with a dime. But I didn’t resort to any of those tricks. I didn’t do any of that. Because I am not my mother ,” she says, enunciating every word, her voice escalating until she’s yelling.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out, relaxing her shoulders. “I can’t force you to keep this vineyard. But if you want the money, stay. If not, let’s go. Because I have better things to do with my time and I’m guessing you do too. So what’s it gonna be, Beck?” She lifts her chin, eyes defiant. “Are we in this together or not?”
Are we in this together or not?
I tilt my head and study her face. Those rose-tinted bee-stung lips. The sharp cheekbones. The golden blonde hair with lighter platinum strands that are a hundred percent natural and don’t come from a fancy salon.
There’s no point in pretending otherwise—Daisy is beautiful. But she drives me insane. Challenges me at every turn. Tempts me beyond reason.
She’s unpredictable. Chaotic. A perfect storm.
Spending the next two and a half months living and working with her will be a special kind of torture. That much has already been proven in the past two weeks.
I’m tempted to throw in the towel. Walk right out the door and leave this whole mess behind, if only to preserve my own sanity and save myself the hassle.
“So if I told you I’m going to walk away right now, you would walk away.”
“Yes,” she says without a moment’s hesitation.
She sounds so sincere that she almost has me convinced she’s telling the truth. I stroke my jaw, trying to figure out what her angle is. “What’s the catch, princess?”
“No catch. But if we walk out, fair warning. I’m stealing the truck,” she says breezily. “I’ll need a getaway car.”
I quirk a brow. “Planning to rob a bank?”
She shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. “Only if it’s on my way.”
“On your way to where?”
You don’t care. Why are you asking?
“My next adventure.”
“What kind of adventures do you go on, Daisy?”
Again, why are you asking?
“My whole life is an adventure, Beckett. You should try stepping away from your laptop sometime. There’s a whole world out there and it’s big enough for both of us.”
I’m not so sure that’s true. She takes up a lot of space.
I don’t know if she’s being honest with me, but it doesn’t really matter.
I’m not going to walk away. I’m not going to admit defeat.
I’m going to see this through to the bitter end even if it kills me.
“We’re staying.” Her smile is triumphant but most likely premature. “Let’s just try to get through the next two and a half months alive and in one piece.”
“Wow. We’ve come a long way. Only this morning you were plotting and scheming cunning ways to murder me and hide the body, weren’t you? I bet you even saved it on a spreadsheet.”
“Password protected,” I say with a nod. “Did you save a similar file?”
“Pfft. I’m allergic to technology. I wrote it down in a notebook. I even included drawings and diagrams. I planned to burn it along with your ashes after the deed was done.”
“Clever. Would you keep my ashes on your mantel?”
“Nope. I would carry you with me everywhere I go so your soul would be aware of all the adventures you’re missing out on,” she says as we walk down the hallway.
“You know what that would make us?” She pauses for dramatic effect before delivering the punchline. “ Soul mates.” She chortles at her own lame joke, and I just shake my head.
I need to take back control of my life and formulate a plan of action.
As luck would have it, I already have the perfect plan for how to turn this whole thing around and walk away with more than just money.
Daisy stops outside the dining room that she’s turned into a darkroom, her hand on the brass knob. “So, does this mean we’re a team now?” She looks so hopeful it would be a shame to burst her bubble. “Can you finally admit that we’re in this together?”
“Sure,” I say easily, which earns me a bright smile. “We’re in this together, in the sense that I’m now the vineyard manager.” I stroke my jaw. “Second thought. Why am I aiming so low? I’m in charge of the whole damn estate. Which makes me…your new boss.” I bop her on the nose and head for the stairs, ignoring the glare she aims at me.
“I should have thrown you to the wolves when I had the chance,” she calls after me.
“That’ll teach you.”
“And just for the record, I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last man on earth and my life depended on it.”
Such a pretty little liar.
I pause at the foot of the stairs and give her a lazy grin. “Stop lying to yourself, princess. You wanted me to kiss you. And you would have kissed me back and begged for more.”
I hear laughter from the doorway and turn to look at Caiden. “Called it,” he says under his breath as he brushes past me and strides over to Daisy, reintroducing himself.
“Oh my god. Caiden!” she squeals. “It’s so good to see you again.” She throws her arms around him and hugs him tight like they’re long-lost friends and her life is complete now that he’s back in it.
A little over the top if you ask me.
“Good to see you too,” Caiden says gruffly. “What’ve you been up to for the past…what is it now…shit, must be seventeen years since I last saw you.”
You just saw her yesterday.