Chapter 8
Eight
Kingston
Ididn’t mean it to come out like that at dinner. I know it sounded like I was volunteering Elise to move into my house. Like it had to be her. Truth is, I just want someone keeping an eye on the Black Bear vines. Someone I trust.
But I do like the idea of it being her. At least for a few days, until she’s gone.
Now, she climbs back into the helicopter, jaw tight, shoulders stiff. I hand her the headset. She shakes her head and refuses, lips pressed together, stubborn as ever.
Fine.
I slip on my headset and lift us into the air.
Once again, rather than cutting across the lake, I bank wide, following the road.
I want to see the progress they’ve made on plowing where the avalanche slides covered the road, but there isn’t much change.
The commute from Black Bear to Paradise right now is probably a three-hour drive, if they can get through at all.
Thirty minutes later, the skids kiss the pad with a solid thump at my house, the chopper shuddering around us before settling. My pulse hammers at the way Elise sat stiff beside me the whole trip. She seems to have no desire to communicate with me.
I cut the engine, the rotors slowing overhead, the rush of wind whipping her hair across her cheek. For a second, I don’t move. Neither does she, though the cockpit feels too small, too close, the hum of silence louder than the blades.
Before she can unbuckle, I reach across and rest my hand on her leg. My fingers curl lightly against the denim, not enough to hold her there, but enough to make her pause. Heat from her body seeps into my palm, sharp and distracting.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean it had to be you. Just…someone. I’m not here enough. But in the meantime, if you need a ride back to the vineyard before this snow clears up, I can fly you. I’ll take you. Anytime. And you’re also welcome to use my car to get around if you need it.”
Her gaze finds mine, startled at first. Then her shoulders lose some of the tightness she wears like armor. “Thanks,” she says quietly. “Maybe at lunch tomorrow? You could drop me at Paradise Hill, and I’ll figure it out from there. Or…get a new truck if the roads open.”
I clear my throat, pulling my hand back, though inexplicably, I’d really like to leave it there. “Easy. Whatever you need.”
She pushes open her door, cold air blasting in, carrying the sharp tang of fuel and snow. I climb out with her, boots crunching against the snow that’s blown across the pad. For a moment, I just watch her, hair whipping in the wind, cheeks pink from the cold, the line of her jaw set.
I grab her bag from the back before she can, slinging it over my shoulder.
She tilts her head. “Show off,” she mutters, but her voice isn’t as sharp as before.
When the blades finally spin to a stop, Kevin steps out from the edge of the pad.
“Elise, this is Kevin Nishida. He’s my pilot and mechanic for the helicopter. You might see him around.” I turn to Kevin. “Elise is from Paradise Hill, and she’ll be here for a few days to deal with the grapes.”
Kevin dips his head. “Sorry about not being here earlier. I got stuck up in Appleton at my girlfriend’s.”
I hold up my hand. “No worries. That storm was a monster. Anyway, Elise will need to get up to Paradise Hill most days. If I can’t take her, I’ll have you take her.”
He nods. “Just let me know. Simone can always get a hold of me.”
“Thank you,” Elise says.
Kevin nods and moves toward the helo with easy familiarity, crossing to check the latches and begin the shutdown I’ve left for him to do.
With steady hands, he straps the bird in place and will lower it into the below-ground garage.
There he’ll make sure it’s fueled, polished, and ready for the next flight.
Elise and I start across the yard, our footsteps crunching in the snow on the concrete path. It glitters under the security lights, flakes catching moonlight like glass.
I point toward the shed built against the side of the pad, the metal stairs inside leading down. “Maintenance access,” I explain. We watch Kevin click a button. He and the helicopter lower and the doors close. It’s ready to go to bed.
“How does Kevin get out of there?” she asks.
“He has a huge garage down there to play around in, which opens up to the basement in the house. He and Simone have their own apartments.”
She follows my gesture, then quirks a brow. “Do you ever think you’ve got too much money?”
I shrug, adjusting her bag on my shoulder. “Not really. I like what I can do with it.”
She studies me, silent.
“I provide school supplies for every kid in the valley,” I add because for some reason I want her to know. “And computers for the ones who can’t afford them.”
Her head snaps toward me. “You do?”
I nod. “We fund hockey too. But school—that’s the real gift. That’s how you change things.”
She blinks at me, and her face softens. The anger’s gone, replaced by something that makes my chest tighten. “That’s…incredible, Kingston.”
The way she says my name—quiet, earnest—burns straight through me. Suddenly, I don’t care about money or vines or even the damn helicopter. I just care that she’s looking at me like that.
“Should we have a drink upstairs?” I ask, wanting to spin this moment into…something.
She hesitates only a second before nodding.
We walk into the main house and change our shoes before she follows me into the living room. It opens up around us, floor-to-ceiling glass walls framing the valley. The fireplace glows in the center, flames rising from stone. Outside, moonlight skims the snow, throwing the world into silver.
“Wow,” she whispers.
I set her bag by the stairs and cross to the bar, reaching for two glasses. “Whiskey? Or wine?”
She eyes the bottles, then me. “Whiskey. Neat.”
Of course. Stubborn to the bone. I pour two fingers into each glass and hand her one, my knuckles brushing hers. A spark jumps at the contact, and her breath stutters just enough that I catch it.
She walks toward the window, glass in her hand. I follow, standing just behind her. The citrus of her shampoo mixes with the smokiness of the whiskey between us. She takes a sip, throat working as she swallows, and I have to look away before I stare too long at the line of her neck.
The stars are sharp tonight, scattered across the black sky like diamonds flung by a careless hand. “You know the constellations?” I ask, moving closer. My chest almost touches her back.
She shakes her head. “Not really.”
I lift my hand, pointing. “That’s Orion. See the belt? And over there—Cassiopeia.”
Her head tilts back, hair grazing my jaw. She turns slowly, and suddenly, she’s facing me, her lips parted. Her breath mingles with mine, whiskey and warmth, and the world outside fades.
What am I doing? This is an entirely unfamiliar place for me. My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my throat. I lean down, just a fraction, every muscle tight. Her hand twitches like she might reach for me.
And then her phone explodes with “Urgent” by Foreigner.
We both jolt, and she curses, fumbling it out of her pocket. “Tarryn.”
I drag in a breath, forcing a laugh. “You gave my sister that ringtone? Figures.”
She’s already answering, voice tense. “Hey, Tarryn.”
I stand frozen as she slips down the hall, her footsteps fading.
The fire snaps. My mind reels with what almost happened.
What did almost happen? Maybe nothing. But I can’t stop seeing that look in her eyes.
Can’t stop feeling the ghost of her breath against my lips.
And the strangest part of all, I was open to it, even though it was her, not some woman I’d found for that singular purpose.
I pace the room, glass in hand, the whiskey sloshing against the rim. I throw it back in one swallow, the burn doing nothing to quiet the restlessness in me. The bottle clinks as I pour another.
I can’t stand the idea of Elise leaving, being with some smarmy Italian, though maybe that’s the best thing for me. Clearly, I need some space to straighten out my head. She has to take this journey, but I hate that I’ll spend it hoping she comes back.