Chapter 14
Jake
E mi and Javier kill off the snacks in record time, and we’re nearing the end of the workday, so I send them home a little early. Not enough time to start a new task before quitting time anyway.
Rosa texted me an hour or so ago, letting me know her other sister, Bianca, wants to chat with me about plans for after the harvest.
Allegra hopes I’ll still be around when she gets back.
And Rosa?
I can’t read her, at least on this. Does she want me to stay? Does she want me to go?
That’s my fault, of course. I haven’t even hinted at the idea of sticking around. And my track record after our ill-fated wedding wouldn’t inspire her to believe I’d be willing or able to put down longer-term roots.
I think I could. Maybe. I’ve just never let myself want it before.
And I shouldn’t now, either.
Whatever frustration I’m feeling, I have only myself to blame.
That’s not the only frustration, either. Even cold showers and thinking of our seventh-grade history teacher, Mrs. Collins, in hair rollers and a cold-cream face mask isn’t enough to distract me from the aching desire I feel every time we’re in the same location.
Hell, she doesn’t even need to be nearby. The scent of her bodywash lingering in the shower, fresh-picked flowers on the table in the morning, snacks and water waiting in the fridge when Javi, Emi, and I come barreling in from the fields at the end of the day.
I wander down to the edge of the vineyard, feeling that combination of bone tired and energized that I only ever feel at the end of a day in the fields. I’m ready to take a shower, eat a good meal, and go to bed.
I’d just rather I wasn’t going to bed alone.
I take in a deep breath, pulling that Napa Valley scent right to the bottom of my lungs. There’s a light breeze that does nothing to reduce the heat haze over the road, but I don’t mind.
It’s the perfect recipe for grape growing.
I check a couple of vines, birdsong hovering in the background. I really should head back to the house, but things with Rosa are, well, weird. We aren’t ready to strangle each other anymore—but I hate not knowing where I stand. Where we stand.
If there even is a “we.”
Gravel crunches on the road, and I realize that while I’ve been standing here pondering, someone’s managed to almost sneak up on me.
On a wide, open gravel road.
I really need to start paying more attention.
I turn to see who’s headed this direction, but the guy walking toward me doesn’t look familiar. Or, rather, he does, but not in a which Oak Creek Canyon family does he belong to? way. He’s clearly not from around here.
Or maybe it’s me who’s not from around here anymore.
“Hey,” he says as he gets closer, pushing his hat back on his head. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I answer, still wondering who this person is, walking the private road between Caparelli and Take Fli—the other vineyard. “You?”
He shrugs and holds out a hand. “Thought I’d come over and introduce myself to the neighbors,” he says. “Jansen Beck.”
The neighbors? I glance over his shoulder at what used to be my family’s vineyard. “Ah,” I say, begrudgingly shaking his hand. “The athlete.”
I notice a slight double take, but he holds it together far better than I can at the moment. Shit, I’m being an asshole.
“Once upon a time,” he says tightly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And you are?”
“Jake Wright.” I glance over again at what’s now his property, and when I look back, I see the moment he clocks the last name.
Jansen nods. “So, not the neighbor.” His expression is sharper now, more alert. Like I’m lurking around here trying to find a way to—what? Sabotage him? Steal the property back?
Internally, I roll my eyes. “Nope. Just helping out at Caparelli for a while.”
“Well.” He tugs his hat back down, covering his forehead, and tilts his head slightly.
I feel like I’m underneath a microscope or something. It’s not a pleasant feeling. But my mom instilled better manners in me than I’m showing at the moment, so I lift my chin and say, “Welcome to Oak Creek Canyon.”
One corner of his mouth quirks up in an approximation of a smile, and he huffs out a breath. “Thanks. See you around.”
He turns to go, and so do I, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder to watch him walk back onto the property I spent all my life assuming would one day be mine.
By the time I hit the back door at Caparelli, I’m feeling even shittier than I did when I was talking to whatever his name was. I was rude and obnoxious, and for what? It’s not like he stole the property out from under me. My parents needed the money, they put the place up for sale, he bought it. No harm, no foul. I probably owe him an apology.
In the mudroom, I toe off my shoes and toss my socks into the washer. I can hear Rosa typing away in the office, so I call out a hello on my way up the stairs to take a shower.
I’m still in a fucking piss-poor mood even after I’ve washed away the dirt and sweat of the day, so I decide not to inflict my attitude on Rosa and head into town for the evening instead. She waves me off when I pop my head into the office to let her know, mumbling something about the end of the fiscal quarter or whatever.
“Oh, wait a sec,” she calls out when I’m halfway out the front door. “Bianca wanted to talk to you about plans for the harvest.”
I’ll probably be gone by then. I don’t know why that makes my chest ache—it’s not like there hasn’t been an end date on this situation from day one. “That’s more up to the two of you. Well, three, if Allegra’s pitching in.”
“That’s what I told her, too,” she says, coming out from behind the desk and leaning on the doorway of the office. “But I think she’d like your input anyway.”
I’m conflicted. Every day, I feel myself getting more and more entangled in Caparelli, thinking about the future and what’s going to happen down the road. The more I’m invested, the harder it will be to leave.
But treating this like just one more temporary placement doesn’t feel right, either.
“Fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “Give me her number, and I’ll call her.”
She grabs her phone off the desk and taps on the screen a couple of times. “Here you go.”
On cue, my cell beeps with the incoming text.
“Thanks,” I tell her, my hand on the doorknob. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so, you know. Don’t wait up.”
“Okay.” She reaches up and tightens the band on her ponytail. I do my best not to pay attention to the way that lifts her breasts so they strain against the fabric of her T-shirt. “Oh, and I’ll be out tomorrow morning. So I guess I’ll see you after lunch-ish?”
I nod. “What’s going on tomorrow morning?”
She pauses. “Nothing big, just hanging out with Sasha.”
There’s something more there, but I let it go. “Sounds good. Have fun.”
I head out the door and climb into my truck, plugging in Bianca’s number before heading down the drive toward town.
“Hey, B,” I say when she picks up. “Rosa said you wanted to talk about post-harvest plans?”
We chat the whole drive into town.
* * *
I grab a chicken sandwich at the fast-food place in the center of town and decide to walk around for a bit, maybe get rid of that itch beneath my skin that’s been there since I ran into Jansen what’s-his-face who bought Take Flight. It feels like a combination of frustration, embarrassment, and—jealousy? Yeah, probably. Goddamnit, I hate admitting it, but I’m jealous as fuck.
He’s got a winery— my winery—to run the way he wants. He can make plans and implement changes and develop long-range strategies to keep it going well into the next decades.
Or he can run it into the ground and walk away. Doesn’t matter—it’s his winery. His choice.
And what have I got? A temporary job with a temporary living space, spending twenty-four seven with the woman I once wanted forever with. And in a matter of weeks, all of that will be going away.
Hell yeah, I’m jealous.
Bianca has some great ideas for Caparelli. I can tell from our conversation how passionate she is about winemaking, and whoever gets to work with her is a lucky person.
I found myself getting excited about the possibilities as we talked, and I had to keep reminding myself that I wouldn’t be around to help make those plans come to fruition. It’s probably time to start making some plans of my own.
I just don’t want to. Not yet.
The sidewalks are crowded as I wander down the street, eating my sandwich and glancing into store windows. I see some people who look familiar and we nod at each other as we walk by, but the majority seem to be out-of-towners. Or maybe residents who’ve moved in since I left.
Oak Creek Canyon has definitely grown in the past ten years, and in a good way. The shops are bustling—tourists are buying souvenirs and bottles of wine. As I watch, a group of about half a dozen women sign up for a winery tour at the tourism-board office.
It would be great to get Caparelli on that rotation once we start selling wine again.
They. They , not we, I have to keep reminding myself, and it sucks.
“Jake Wright? Is that you?”
I shake off my maudlin mood and look around to see who’s talking to me. A woman with dark brown skin and tight curls is standing at the corner, a big smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.
“My God. Carol?” I stride over and wrap my arms around her, laughing a little. “How long has it been?”
She pulls back and smacks me on the arm. “Too damn long, young man.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, yeah. You’re not wrong. What are you up to these days?”
“Still working at…” Her voice trails off. “Actually, I don’t know what he’s going to call it.”
I wince inwardly. Carol has been Take Flight’s accountant since I can remember.
“He’s lucky to have you,” I say, holding back that wave of jealousy I’ve been fighting all evening. “Nobody better to help run the place.”
Her smile softens, grows fonder. “Thank you, Jake. I loved working for your family, I hope you know. Best winery in Oak Creek Canyon.”
I nod. Once upon a time, it was. And I can’t fault her for sticking with a job she knows like the back of her hand and does well.
“So what are you up to these days? Just visiting?” She looks around. “Are your folks here, too?”
I shake my head. “No, they’re enjoying retirement in SLO.”
“Oh, right, I heard something about that. Tell them I said hi next time you see them.”
“Will do.”
“And you?”
I smile and shove my hands into my pockets. “Actually, I’m helping out at Caparelli for the summer. Getting it ready for harvest now that Rosa and her sisters have taken over.”
“Are you, now!” She tilts her head. “Those girls are lucky to have you.”
“It’s just Rosa at the moment, but thanks. It’s nice to be home for a little while.”
“Just a little while?”
I nod, even though it feels like a lie. Or maybe I just wish it was. “Yeah, only until harvest. Then it’s time to move on to my next gig.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I know your folks always hoped you would come back, settle down here. It’s never too late to come home, you know.”
I smile tightly. It certainly feels too late for me. Take Flight is sold, my parents have moved, and Rosa…
Well.
It’s all water under the bridge.
Carol’s expression brightens. “Maybe while you’re here you can stop by and meet the new boss. I think Jansen could use some friendly neighbors. Maybe someone to bounce ideas off of.”
I swallow. “Maybe.”
It would be the neighborly thing to do. I just—can’t do it. Not yet. Not while the loss is so fresh.
“Anyway, you know me.” I smile again. “Always moving on.”
She sighs and places a hand on my elbow. “Maybe it’s time to put down some roots, Jake. Oak Creek Canyon will always be your place, no matter how far you travel.”
I make some sort-of-agreeable noises and give her another hug, then head down the sidewalk, rolling that last sentence over and over in my head.
Maybe Oak Creek Canyon is my place. But I don’t know where I fit in it anymore.