Chapter 3
NOLAN
“What’s that noise?”
Nolan stepped out of Guest Cottage Number One to see Marielle shading her eyes as she looked up at the sky.
“Sounds like a helicopter,” he said.
“Who the heck would be flying a helicopter around here?”
“Maybe someone visiting the Cranstons?”
Everett and Antonella Cranston were Nolan’s nearest neighbours, although “near” was relative.
Their home to the south was almost a mile away, surrounded by the rolling pastures of their horse farm.
Everett liked to joke that they were “in it together,” and it was true they’d both inherited their land and moved to Amador County at around the same time.
But that was where the similarities ended.
Everett had made a small fortune on Wall Street and married a former Miss South Carolina before moving his hedge fund to Sacramento, while Nolan had come to California to escape the stigma of events at Blackstone House.
To this day, there were still people who thought he’d killed Ruby, and with Eddie Calder for a father, he understood why.
“I guess.” Marielle drew a piece of painted wood from a bag at her side. “Surprise! Look what I brought.”
“That’s…not a cushion?”
“No, silly. It’s a sign.” She flipped it over. “Isn’t it adorable? I know you didn’t like the idea of naming the cottages after grape varieties, so I thought we could name them after olives instead. Beldi, Galega, Oliana, Thassos…”
“There are only two cottages.” And she wanted to name one of them Beldi?
“There are only two cottages so far. Think big, Nolan.”
She sounded like Lisanne, before Lisanne realised living on a farm wasn’t as glamorous as it looked on social media and gave him an ultimatum: her or the vineyard.
“I’d rather focus on this year’s harvest and the two cottages that are already built.”
Mostly built.
“I guess that makes sense. Let them build up reviews on Couch2Castle before you expand your portfolio.”
The noise was getting louder, and it provided a welcome distraction from arguing with Marielle.
Nolan couldn’t afford to alienate her, not when she was the best interior designer in town.
The only interior designer in town. There wasn’t much call for fancy furnishings in Mason’s Hill, but she made a living catering to the wealthy folks who bought second homes in the area.
She’d remodelled the entire interior of the Cranstons’ Colonial Revival-style home.
“The helicopter is heading here,” she said. “Are you expecting a buyer?”
“Not today.”
She giggled. “Do you have any rich friends?”
“One, but he’s married.”
Brax could certainly afford a helicopter, although he didn’t own one as far as Nolan knew.
And nobody from Blackstone House was on the breadline, not after Alexa had distributed stolen money like candy one Christmas.
Nolan hadn’t intended to spend his share, not when Ruby paid for that cash with her life, but then the vineyard winery needed a new roof, and the old grape press stopped working, and the seasonal workers deserved a good wage, and…
He’d pay back the money. He would. Not to its original owners—Levi’s mom had passed now, and Nolan had no idea where his dad was—but he planned to donate a hefty sum to a domestic violence charity as soon as he could afford it.
Which wouldn’t be any time soon, not if they didn’t get some rain. Last year’s harvest had been spectacular, but the fruits of Nolan’s labour had run down the drain, quite literally, and the ongoing drought meant this year’s grapes weren’t looking good.
“Married? Happily married, or too-stubborn-to-get-a-divorce married?”
“Happily, this time around. He already did the divorce thing.” Sunlight glinted off the helicopter’s silver fuselage as it descended still farther. Was it landing?
“Maybe you forgot another appointment?” Marielle suggested.
His schedule had disappeared along with the accounting system when the laptop broke, but he’d called pretty much everyone now.
Each appointment was carefully written on a paper calendar, which seemed a lot safer than relying on electronics again, plus it was a Sunday.
He never scheduled client visits on Sundays.
“No, I don’t think so.”
Juno, Nolan’s German shepherd, ran out of the house and began barking at the sky.
Marielle took a step back when the dog came close.
She was a self-confessed cat person, and although she’d never complained about Juno the way Lisanne did, it was obvious she preferred the dog to be elsewhere.
The feeling was mutual, although Nolan was too diplomatic to point that out.
The helicopter cleared the copse of trees near the house by three feet and settled onto the grass beyond, scattering chickens in all directions.
Nolan grabbed Penelope the Rhode Island Red before she could run down the driveway, and his mouth set into a hard line as he marched toward the silver beast, ready to give whoever was on board a piece of his mind for showing up without an appointment and also for parking their aircraft like a douche.
But politely, because he still needed to sell wine.
He got his first surprise when the pilot jumped out, casual in black cargo pants and a tank top, and he realised it was a woman.
His second surprise came when he recognised her.
“Jerry?” His voice got lost in the noise from the slowing rotor blades, and he tried again, louder this time. “Jerry?”
Jerry Knight had lived at Blackstone House, the third woman to call the old place home. Although Jerry had been more of a tomboy. She’d also been a cold, crazy bitch, and it looked as if not much had changed.
She grinned, then smirked as she cut her gaze sideways to where Marielle was trying to hold down her hair with one hand and her skirt with the other. Her carefully painted olive-name signs lay abandoned in the dirt.
“Aw, you didn’t forget me,” Jerry yelled back.
“Get that damn helicopter away from my chickens.”
“Relax, I didn’t land on any of them.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Someone had to make sure Alexa arrived safely. Good to see you too.”
Nolan squinted at the helicopter, but the glare bounced off the windows and nearly blinded him.
“You brought Alexa?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
Technically no, but he wasn’t about to argue. Instead, he gritted his teeth as a wave of something rolled through him. Apprehension? Dread?
Excitement?
“I didn’t realise the two of you were still friends.”
“Right now, I don’t much like her, but we work together on occasion.”
“Well, nobody else is getting out of the helicopter.”
“Because you have a dog, and Alexa’s terrified of dogs.”
Fuck. Somehow, Nolan had shoved that little tidbit to the back of his mind.
“What, still?”
“Remember those scars from where she got bit? Well, they haven’t gone away.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the night Alexa had tornadoed into Blackstone House and turned everyone’s lives upside down.
She might have been a waif, but she had a big personality and a stubborn streak that made him want to tear out his hair at times.
She’d been scared, clutching her backpack like a shield, and it had been Ruby who’d taken her to the bathroom to clean up, who’d found her a pair of drawstring pants she could cinch in at the waist and an oversized sweater.
Ruby who’d discovered the dirty bandage wrapped around her calf and the weeping bite marks underneath.
Some asshole had set their dog on her for fun and laughed as she screamed.
Fuck.
“I’ll put Juno in the house.”
“Make sure the mutt stays away from Alexa.”
“She’s friendly.”
“She’d better be well-trained and understand the word ‘leave.’”
“Yeah, she understands ‘leave.’” But only when it applied to chickens and horses. Cats were iffy. Humans? She just wanted to be their best bud, except for Marielle. Juno had never warmed to the woman. “Hey, girl. Let’s go get you a treat.”
By the time Nolan made it back to the helicopter, the rotors were still, and two men were lifting suitcases onto the ground.
What the…? Who were these guys? He blinked a couple of times in the hope he’d wake up and find Jerry was just a figment of his nightmares, but no, she was still there. He caught her eye and raised a brow.
“Cole’s with me, Chase is with Alexa,” she supplied. “Where should we put the bags?”
Like, with her, with her? Nolan had met Chase a time or two at Brax’s get-togethers, but the man had always introduced himself as Alexa’s “representative” and remained tight-lipped about their relationship.
He was her boyfriend? The news should have come as a relief, but instead of the weight rolling off Nolan’s shoulders, it careened around in his chest and then settled in his gut.
Who the fuck was brave enough to date Alexa? Or Jerry, for that matter?
“Oh, really? How did you and Cole meet?”
“I picked him up in the hotel bar after Brax’s wedding.”
“You went to that?”
Nolan hadn’t gotten an invite. Brax told him the wedding had basically been an elopement, organised at the last minute as a fuck-you to Indi’s controlling parents.
“There was free food. The bags?”
“In the cottage there.” Nolan pointed to the open door, then curiosity got the better of him. “What’s Brax’s new wife like?”
“Surprisingly tolerable.”
“I thought he’d never manage to get rid of Carissa.”
“She finally slithered back under her rock. Okay, so the rock is actually a crystal chandelier in a New York apartment that she absolutely doesn’t deserve, but Brax was happy with the deal.”
Nolan swallowed hard. “And Alexa?”
“She didn’t think Carissa deserved the apartment either.”
“No, I meant her and Chase.”
“Oh, some creep was hitting on her in a bar, and he did the whole ‘knight in shining armour’ routine. They’ve been travelling the world together ever since.”
Marielle, never one to take a hint, chose that moment to interrupt.
“Hi, hello, I’m Marielle Marten. I’m helping Nolan with the diversification project here at Dionysus.”
Jerry looked her up and down. “Good for you.”
For fuck’s sake. “Marielle, this is Jerry. She’s an old roommate of mine and Alexa’s.”
“I see. Well, it’s always nice to catch up with old friends. Alexa didn’t come?”
“She’s finishing up a call on the bird,” Jerry said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nolan saw the helicopter’s rear door open, and then there she was.
Tiny, blonde Alexa, and she barely looked any different from the last time he’d seen her a decade ago.
Like Peter Pan’s sister—the girl who never grew up.
Tight pink spandex showed off slender legs, and she hid her lack of curves under a loose, slouchy top.
Tendrils of hair escaped from the messy bun on top of her head as her lips flattened into a scowl.
She hefted a laptop bag, squared her shoulders, and marched toward him.
“Where’s the computer?”
No “hello.” No “how have you been?” Just “where’s the computer?” But had he really expected anything else? Alexa had never been known for her small talk.
“You mean the one with the virus?”
“Yes, the one that meant I had to abandon my trip to Italy and come bail out your sorry ass.”
Nolan had hoped for a reset on the past, for Alexa to have grown up a little and understood why he’d had to push her away. After all, she’d come to help, hadn’t she? But no, she wasn’t going to make this easy.
She hadn’t changed a bit.
“I appreciate you coming.”
“Whatever. The laptop?”
“It’s in the study. The internet isn’t all that fast, but—”
“I brought a Satellink unit. Chase will need access to the roof.” She turned to Marielle. “I’ll have a cappuccino, no sugar, don’t leave the spoon in the cup.”
Marielle’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s, and it would have been funny if Alexa weren’t acting so damn rude.
“Marielle isn’t a maid.”
“So she doesn’t know how to make coffee?”
For Pete’s sake.
“I’ll make the coffee,” Nolan said. “Marielle, do you want a drink?”
“I’d love an iced tea.”
“Jerry?”
“Do you have vodka?”
“This is a winery. I can offer you an excellent Zinfandel or Syrah, but I’m not tainting my palate with that Russian shit.”
Cole appeared at her side, minus the two bags he’d deposited in the cottage. “Babe, you shouldn’t be drinking and flying.”
Nolan seized that lifeline. “You’re not staying?”
A relief because the finished cottage only had one bedroom, and although there was a sleeper sofa, they’d only put that in for kids. The other guest rooms were in Nolan’s home. His sanctuary. And Jerry didn’t fuck quietly.
“No, I’m only staying long enough to deliver Alexa and Chase.”
So Chase was staying? Great.
No, really.
He could act as a buffer between Nolan and Alexa.
“How long do you think it will take her to fix the laptop?”
“Do I look like a geek?”
Not one bit. Jerry reminded Nolan of a young Elizabeth Taylor, but with the energy of a Bond villain.
“You don’t,” he conceded. “So, what are you up to these days?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
Was she joking? With Jerry, Nolan figured there was a fifty-fifty chance. She’d joined the Army after they left Blackstone House, and then he’d lost track of her. Ruby’s murder had forced their once close-knit group apart.
“Don’t you think that joke’s in bad taste?”
She blew out a sigh. “Probably.”
The irony was, if Nolan had to pick the one former roommate he could see committing a murder, it would be Jerry. She had a disturbing ability to remain detached. But she hadn’t killed Ruby, because Ruby hadn’t just been stabbed and strangled, she’d been raped as well.
“Less chat, more caffeine,” Alexa called, and Jerry snorted.
“You’ve been summoned, bud. Good luck.”
Nolan would need it.