Chapter Seven
Seven
Ginny
Ishould be concentrating on the inventory, but Mom is back in the store again today, and that has put me on edge.
Still, my inability to focus is not entirely her fault.
My brain’s stuck in a loop I can’t escape.
Ryker’s smirk. His fingers skimming my thigh under the table.
The way he looked at me like he knew every dirty thought in my head because they were in his too.
What was I thinking at that tasting? This is reckless, and I know better.
I don’t need useless distractions, and I certainly don’t need to pick a fight with my family. Not when the vineyard’s got problems and our well’s running dry.
Sera walks into the gift shop a few minutes later and pokes around a bit before coming over to see what I’m doing…or trying to do. “You’re quiet,” she says after I fail to greet her or start conversation.
I tilt my head toward Mom, and Sera nods. “I could use your insight on block one-hundred-and-one,” she says after a moment. “Can you get away to come look?”
I look over at Mom. “Can you manage this for a bit?”
We haven’t had a customer all morning. I shrug into my winter coat and follow Sera.
“Of course,” she says. She’s still rearranging my work, and I’m sure that will keep her occupied for a while.
Sera and I pile into her truck and head out to the edge of our property that abuts the Paradise land. The sun hits these vines just right, and this is where we grow the grapes for our best red wines.
Sera glances at me from the driver’s seat. Her dark hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, her face bare except for the sunblock she always wears. “What’s up? Mom driving you crazy?”
I shrug. “I’m always quiet before I’ve had enough coffee.”
She snorts. “You’re brooding. There’s a difference.”
I don’t answer. The farther we drive from the main road, the bumpier it gets, tires crunching over gravel as we climb the ridge toward the corner of our property.
Across the property line from this block were rows of peach trees, until the Paradise family decided they wanted new pinot vines just under two years ago.
“I’m really excited for you and Josie,” I tell her as we approach. I should try to make conversation. “Gran must be overjoyed with the big win this week.”
Sera shrugs. “I’m not sure she believes it helps our sales. She made a snotty comment about the money we spent going to the festival.”
“How can she be so dense?” I protest. “Josie’s going to be on the national news. That will bring in buyers from all across Canada and probably the U.S. and the rest of the world.”
She shrugs. “That’s Gran.”
Sera parks near the edge of the bluff, and we get out, squinting against the glare. The well cap is intact. No signs of damage or wear, just silence.
Rows of grapevines stretch out in the morning light, their twisted trunks still bare and lifeless, buds tight against the woody canes as if reluctant to wake.
The soil beneath them is dry and cracked, and the few emerging leaves are pale, tinged with yellow.
Across the property line, the Dempsey vines stand thick and steady in their winter rest.
Sera pulls out the dipmeter and lowers it into the well.
It works like a fishing bobber, unwinding the line until it hits bottom.
The device lets water in as it descends, so when she hauls it back up, it shows how full the well is.
After a wet winter, the water level should be rising as the groundwater replenishes.
She checks the reading, then notes the level in her logbook. “No change?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “It hasn’t changed. I had the guy from Okanagan Drilling out earlier this week. He thinks if it’s not changing, it might be rerouted.”
“Rerouted?”
“Blocked. Buried. Sabotaged. Take your pick.”
I swallow hard. “Do you think it’s them?”
Sera doesn’t say anything for a beat. “They’re the ones who gain if we fail.”
They being the Paradise family. The people we’ve spent our whole lives competing with. The people we’ve blamed for everything from lost contracts to our parents’ divorce.
The people who gave birth to Ryker.
That makes my stomach twist. Because I don’t think it’s them. I know it’s not them. But saying that out loud feels like a betrayal.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I crouch beside the wellhead and press my palm against the rusted pipe. It’s cold.
I close my eyes for half a second, trying to focus, but all I can see is Ryker’s stupid crooked grin. My mind echoes with the heat in his voice when he talks about “scratching an itch.” He makes it sound so easy. Like there’s no history. No worry. Just chemistry.
But all of this is a warning label I keep trying to ignore.
“Sooo, Ryker Paradise, huh?” Sera says suddenly, like she’s pulled the thought straight from my head.
I jerk my hand away from the well. “What?”
She shrugs. “You’re not as sly as you think.”
“I’m not anything with him.”
“Yet,” she mutters.
I shoot her a look, but she just grins and walks back toward the truck.
“Why would you think that?” I call after her.
“Come on. All of Paradise is talking about you two right now.”
My heart stops. “What? Why?”
“You were flirting pretty hard down at his bar.”
“His bar?”
“Yeah. He owns Mikey’s.”
“Wait. He owns Mikey’s? When did that happen?”
“Mikey’s wife got half in the divorce, so Ryker stepped in and bought her out. Obviously, Mike still runs it.”
I stare down at the dry earth for another second, then stand and dust my hands off on my jeans. “There’s nothing going on. We’ve just had some meetings. He’s the best man, and I’m the maid of honor in Beckett and Sadie’s wedding.”
“You know Gran is going to demand that you back out of that.”
I shrug. “I’ve already told her. Sadie’s my best friend. I can’t control who she marries, and honestly, Beckett’s really good for her.”
“What did Gran say?”
“Not much. I didn’t ask for permission. I just told her.”
Sera whistles. “Gran much prefers you to ask permission.”
“This thing between our families needs to stop. It’s getting ridiculous.”
“Max Paradise ruined our parents’ marriage.”
“Don’t you think Dad had a hand in that as well? He cheated with Max’s wife. Sure, Max went out of his way to make sure Gran knew, but if Dad had kept it in his pants, Max wouldn’t have had anything to say.”
Sera’s jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, Gran sees it differently. And you know how she gets when she feels threatened. This thing with the wedding isn’t over, Gin. She’ll make it ugly.”
“Then let her. I’m tired of pretending everything’s black and white. Ryker isn’t Max.”
“No. But he’s got the same blood. Same last name. Same swagger.” She arches a brow at me. “Just have a plan because Gran is going to go apeshit when she learns it has gone beyond you being in Sadie’s wedding.”
“It won’t,” I say too quickly, but my face gives me away.
“So there is something,” Sera says.
I hesitate. “No. Not really.”
“Not really sounds like the kind of thing people say when they’re already in trouble.”
I sigh and look off toward the ridge. “It doesn’t matter. It can’t go anywhere.”
“Because of Gran?”
“It’s more than that. It’s everything,” I say quietly.
“I don’t trust myself anymore. I have no idea what I want or what I need.
My taste in men is crap. And on top of that, we’re standing at a well that was probably sabotaged, and everyone thinks Ryker’s family’s behind it.
Our grandmother calls them snakes, and I’ve been kissing one like I forgot who I am. ”
“She’d probably feel better about any other last name. Why would you tempt fate like this?”
I swallow hard. “I thought leaving my family behind when I moved out and then went to university proved I could stand on my own. But somehow, I ended up with nowhere to go and came back.” My voice cracks.
“Because I still need the Dempseys, but I want to be me as well. Now, I’m stuck trying to figure out how to be part of this family without thinking like Gran. Without letting her define me.”
Sera’s face softens, but she doesn’t say I’m wrong.
Because I’m not.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Sadie: Still up for dress shopping in Vancouver next month? Also, Beckett and I want you and Ryker to come over for dinner next week to talk wedding stuff.
Before I can even process it, another message pops in.
Ryker: This’ll be fun.
I close my eyes a moment, and despite everything, I can feel this pulling me right back in. He’s impossible. Charming. Infuriating. And exactly what I tell myself I don’t need. But I’m smiling anyway.
Somehow, I get myself into the passenger seat of Sera’s truck, and we wind back toward the vineyard offices.
“Well?” Gran is outside the main house when we arrive, her hands on her hips and her rain boots caked in mud.
Sera gets out first. “We dropped the dipmeter, and it’s measuring the same.”
Gran turns her frustration to me. “You think I don’t know how Ryker Paradise thinks? How that whole family operates? They’re already sending in their sons to cozy up. I see what’s happening, even if no one else has the guts to say it.” Her eyes narrow. “Mark my words, this isn’t an accident.”
My throat tightens.
Ryker doesn’t feel like the enemy. Not the way he touched me. Not the way I wanted it. But this barrier between us is real, and crossing it feels like treason.
“Go tell your mother to go home.” Gran points me inside.
Sera raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.
Eventually, Gran storms toward the back offices. When the door slams, I finally breathe.
“We just have to figure out how they’re doing it,” Sera says softly.
My phone buzzes again.
Ryker: Still thinking about last night? I can’t stop. And I don’t want to. Why did you leave?
My heart stutters. I shove the phone into my pocket and head back to the gift shop. This has to stop.