Chapter 4
Jake
H angovers are a bitch.
I squint at the window, wishing I’d had the foresight to close the blackout shades before falling into bed last night.
Instead, bright beams of sunlight stream in through the gauzy white curtains, lighting up every corner of my room.
I should probably haul my ass out of bed and get downstairs before they stop serving.
I’m not very hungry at the moment, but I paid for breakfast and I hate to waste money.
Plus, there’s a high likelihood there will be bacon. Bacon makes everything better.
I stumble through my morning routine, still half-asleep, mind focused on yesterday’s conversation with Rosa.
I don’t know if she’s going to take me up on my offer. Part of me kind of hopes she doesn’t. Being around the woman who rejected me so thoroughly after our wedding—tacky and rushed though it may have been—would be a kind of masochism I’m not sure sober me is ready to sign up for.
On the other hand, the chance to stick it to her pompous, asshole uncle is an opportunity I’d be a fool to pass up.
And on the other other hand, there’s possibly some tiny part of me that wants to see the regret in her eyes when she realizes she could have had me at her side this whole time.
I hadn’t been exaggerating when I told her I couldn’t turn in the annulment paperwork. It’s the honest-to-God truth. I was laid out for days, heartbroken and hurting, and Rosa had ghosted me completely. By the time I came out of my cave I just wasn’t able to force myself to do it.
And now? Do I really think spending the entire summer working with-slash-for her is going to make her feel bad for breaking my heart ten years ago?
Whatever. It’s a pretty pathetic revenge fantasy in the light of day. Better to set all that aside and just do the damn job.
There is bacon on the breakfast buffet and light, fluffy scrambled eggs and a potato-and-pepper dish that makes my taste buds sing. I’m feeling significantly more human by the time I pour my second cup of coffee into a to-go cup and head out the door.
I don’t want to push too hard on Rosa. I know damn well if I do, she’ll get stubborn and push back. But in the wine business, time is precious, and I don’t know how long those vines have been on their own. If Geno pulled his staff back after the will was read, we don’t have a lot of time before the grapes will be useless this year.
I head up into the hills, this time driving the beater truck my folks loaned me while I’m in town, very determinedly not focusing on how easily I landed on the side of we.
There’s still a bite in the air when I arrive at the outskirts of Caparelli, the ground not yet heated by the sun. I breathe in deeply, enjoying the scent of growing things and dirt and home .
No matter how many vineyards I’ve been on in my life, this particular stretch of land, the space that holds Caparelli and what used to be Take Flight, has a grasp on my soul that nothing else can replace.
I walk through the rows of vines, checking the canopy, the shoots growing from early spring’s pruning, the tight, BB-sized baby grapes clustered on the very tips of the rubbery, light green stalks. I bend down to check the soil, absently noting the weeds taking hold around the base of the vines.
“Hey.”
I straighten, letting the dirt sift through my fingers as I stand. “And good morning to you,” I say, smirking a little.
She’s wearing sunglasses—which, yes, it’s California and the sun is out, but it’s not really that bright at this time of the morning. She sucks in a slow breath and lets it out. “I thought you were going to wait for me to call.”
“Changed my mind. Vines wait for no one, darlin’. No time like the present to get to work.”
I gesture at the vines in front of me. “I figured it would be a good idea to see what I’m getting into if I start working for you.”
“I don’t think I ever actually agreed to your proposal.”
My mind flashes back ten years. She agreed to my proposal then.
Nope. If this is going to work I’ve got to bury that topic forty meters below the wine caves, if not further.
“Well, in that case, you’ve got less than a week before you lose these vines for the season. Good luck.” I shake my head and walk around her, heading toward the road.
“Wait.” She grabs my elbow as I walk by, stopping my forward movement.
I grit my teeth and ignore the spark of heat that travels up my arm at her touch.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
“What do you mean, less than a week?” I can hear the desperation in her voice, and I steel myself against it. Or at least try to.
I’ve always been a sucker for Rosa. Always and, apparently, still.
“When was the last time the vines were watered?”
A frown line appears between her eyebrows. “According to the watering schedule Damian and I set up, three days ago. I even double-checked the schedule and verified it against the recommendations I found online. But when I checked the ground yesterday, it seemed overly dry to me. Is it the soil? There’s something wrong with the soil, isn’t there?”
Oh, man. This is worse than I thought.
“The soil is fine. But there’s no way it was watered three days ago,” I tell her. “This ground is dry as dust, and the leaves are starting to curl. My guess is that your former employee turned it off when he left, or even before that, and didn’t bother telling you.”
“Oh my God.”
“You need me. Or, at least, you need someone like me to start working on this vineyard yesterday , because whatever that guy was doing before he quit, it wasn’t even close to enough.”
Rosa swears under her breath.
I shouldn’t find that as hot as I do.
“So in addition to being a quitter, he was shit at the job as well?”
I shrug. “Pretty much.”
She turns away and shoves her hands into her hair. “I can’t believe this.”
Nudging her with my elbow, I say, “Look. I get it—this sucks. You’re stuck with the guy you’ve been avoiding.”
“Who’s avoiding who? I’ve been in the same place for the last decade. You’re the one who’s been all over the world since then.” She glares at me over her shoulder.
She’s not wrong, but I barrel on. “I hate to tell you this, but at this point you don’t have a choice. Or, I guess, your choices are work with me or get ready to rip these vines out.”
“Rip them out? Are you crazy?”
“They’ll be dead in a week. Useless. Might as well plow the whole property under and start over.”
“That would take years.”
I look her straight in the eye. “Exactly.”
I can see the moment she gives in. Her shoulders lower and her chin drops, her gaze fixed on her shoes. “Okay. I’m in.”
A wave of—what is that, relief?—washes over me. I ignore it and stick out my hand, right into her line of sight.
Even with her sunglasses on, I can see that she’s narrowing her eyes.
“Come on, shake. I won’t bite.” Not unless you ask.
She hesitates a moment longer, then grasps my hand and shakes it once, dropping the grip immediately.
I wonder if she felt the same spark of heat I did the moment we touched. Again.
Perversely, I hope so. Even though this is going to make us working together a bitch to get through.
If one of us has to suffer, both of us should. And maybe I wish she could suffer a little more than I do. It’s a crappy thing to think, but that’s how it is. Heartbreak isn’t always tidy and nice.
“Okay. I’ll go ahead and check out from the bed-and-breakfast. I should be back in an hour or so.”
“Check out?” She pushes her sunglasses up her nose and stares at me. “Where are you going to stay, then?”
I shrug. “Here, of course.”
Rosa takes a step back, almost tripping over a rock in the path between the vines. I stretch out a hand to steady her, but she twitches out of my reach. “No, you’re not.”
I raise a brow. “Where else would I stay? My parents sold their house along with the vineyard, and I’m not commuting from their condo in San Luis Obispo. I’m only here for a few months, so no point in signing a long-term lease. And I know you can’t pay me enough to cover the cost of a short-term rental or a hotel stay.”
“But…what about privacy?”
I’m tempted to ask her how much privacy a wife needs from her husband, but I decide not to be a total dick.
“I’ll stay out of your way. I just need a place to crash at the end of the day. Put me at the opposite end of the house—we’ll barely see each other.” I hesitate, then add, “Look, I know getting a vineyard and winery back in shape is expensive. How about we consider the housing part of my compensation, and you can add just a little extra. Cover food and shit.”
“That wouldn’t be fair,” she insists, which is so typical. I’m giving her an out, and she’s arguing against her own best interest.
“Fuck fair . You’re trying to keep this place afloat on a bag of chips and the change you found under the couch cushions. I have free time, the knowledge you need, and apparently I’m nice enough to do it for room and board. Take the goddamn offer and be grateful.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
She leans forward. “Why are you willing to work for room and board?”
“I have my reasons.”
Rosa shakes her head. “No, sorry—that’s not good enough.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know you! Not anymore. It’s been ten years, Jake. I have the right to know your motivation for being here.”
I can’t tell her everything, but I can tell her something. “Because I want you to win. I couldn’t save my parents’ vineyard, but maybe I can help save yours.”
And it’s not a lie. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s true just the same.
There’s a long, silent pause, and then she nods. “Okay.”
“Good.” I clap my hands together and look around. “Okay, I’m gonna turn on the irrigation system. It’s in the shed, right?”
She nods.
I add, “Then I’ll head over to the bed-and-breakfast and grab my stuff. I’ll be back in an hour or two. Meet you at the house?”
“Meet you at the house,” she agrees. Then she turns and walks away, her shoulders straight and her head held high.
She’s a goddamn warrior, and right now I’m glad we’re on the same side.