Chapter 6 Saffron
SAFFRON
Imade it halfway home before the tears started.
What the hell was wrong with me? Snapper had been about to—what? Kiss me? Tell me something important? And I’d run like a scared rabbit.
The steering wheel was slick under my palms as I gripped it tighter, trying to focus on the dark road ahead instead of the memory of standing so close to him in the caves.
The way his eyes had searched mine. The warmth of his body so close to mine.
That moment when everything had hung, suspended between us.
“We’re partners, remember?” he’d said.
“Is that what we are?” I’d whispered back.
Then he’d stepped closer, reached for me, and I’d panicked.
By the time I drove through our front gate, my hands were shaking. The house loomed dark and empty with my parents gone.
I climbed out of my truck and stood in the cool evening air, staring up at the winery buildings silhouetted against the darkening sky.
And I’d just run away from the one person willing to help us. Help me.
Inside, the house was eerily still. I kicked off my shoes, dropped my purse on the counter, and stood in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do next. Call him? Apologize? Explain?
Explain what? That I was terrified? That every time he got close, I wanted him so badly I could barely breathe? That I’d been in love with him for so long I didn’t know how not to be?
Yeah, that would go over well.
I was pulling a bottle of wine from the rack—screw it, I needed a drink—when headlights swept across the kitchen window.
My heart leaped. Snapper. He’d followed me home to—
But when I looked out, I saw a sleek Mercedes, not Snapper’s truck.
Jesus. It was Isabel Van Orr. What the hell was she doing here?
I set the wine bottle down and went to the door, opening it before she could knock.
“This is unexpected.”
She stood on my porch in designer jeans and cashmere, her blonde hair perfect even at this hour, diamonds glinting at her ears and throat, and as usual, her smile was ice cold.
“I hope I’m not intruding. I was hoping we could talk. You know, woman to woman.”
Every instinct screamed at me to say no, to close the door. Instead, I stepped aside and waved her in.
She walked past me into the kitchen, her expensive perfume trailing behind her. Her gaze swept the room—taking in the wine bottle I’d left on the counter before looking me up and down.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.
“I wanted to warn you. About Snapper.”
My stomach twisted. “Warn me about what?”
“You’ve always been a bit naive, Saffron. I’d hate to see you get hurt.” She tilted her head, contemplating me like I was something under a microscope. “You bid seventy-five thousand dollars on him last night. That’s just sad, sweetheart. And desperate.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Maybe not. But I’ve known Snapper a long time. Maybe not longer than you but more intimately, if you know what I mean. So, unlike you, I know what kind of man he really is.”
“Is that so? What kind of man is he?”
She moved closer. “The kind who’ll fuck you and leave you. In fact, I heard him say, ‘Fuck ’em and leave ’em.’ to his brothers.”
I hugged my arms around myself tighter. “I don’t believe you.”
“That’s your choice.” She shrugged. “But ask yourself—why is he suddenly so interested in you now? After all these years of keeping you in the friend zone?”
Because I asked for help. Because I need him. The thoughts whispered through my mind, poisonous and insidious.
“You’re convenient,” Isabel continued. “His shoulder’s injured, so he’s not on the rodeo circuit this year. No buckle bunnies throwing themselves at him. You’re here. You’re available. And you’re clearly willing.”
“Get out.” I shook with anger I was trying hard to control.
“I’m just trying to help you, Saffron. Save you from making a fool of yourself.” She paused, examining her manicured nails. “Though I suppose you wouldn’t be the first woman in your family to fall for his charms.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Her smile sharpened. “About Felicity and Snapper? I always thought you and your sister were close.”
The room tilted. “You’re lying.”
“Am I? Ask her yourself.” Isabel moved toward the door, then paused. “It was years ago, of course. Before Wagner. But once was enough for your sister to know what kind of man he really is. She could warn you, if you were brave enough to ask. You know—woman to woman.”
Then she was gone, her taillights disappearing down the driveway.
I stood frozen in my kitchen as Isabel’s accusations echoed in my head.
Fuck ’em and leave ’em.
Felicity and Snapper.
No, that couldn’t be right. Felicity would have told me. We told each other everything. And Snapper wasn’t—he wouldn’t—
Except what did I really know about his romantic life? He was gone ten months a year. Who knew what he did on the rodeo circuit? And when had he ever looked at me as anything more than a friend?
Until today.
Until that moment in the caves when he’d reached for me and I’d seen something in his eyes that made my heart race and my stomach flip and every nerve ending in my body come alive.
You’re convenient.
God, what if she was right?
I grabbed the wine bottle and poured myself a generous glass. I needed to call Felicity. Needed to ask her—but I couldn’t. Not now. Not when she was about to go into labor any second.
But Isabel’s story ate at me. Was she right? Had something happened between Felicity and Snapper? When? During one of Snapper’s rare trips home? How long ago?
The mental images running through my head made bile rise in my throat.
I was halfway through my second glass of wine when I heard another vehicle in the driveway.
This time, it was Snapper’s truck.
I wasn’t ready to face him with Isabel’s poison still fresh in my mind.
But he was already climbing out, already heading for the porch. And he was carrying something wrapped in cloth.
I opened the door before he could knock.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
His expression shifted to concern. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You sure? Because you look—” He stopped. “Can I come in?”
I stepped aside to let him pass, just like I had my last visitor. He moved into the kitchen and carefully set whatever he was carrying on the counter.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Something I need to show you.” He unwrapped the cloth that covered a wine bottle. It was old, dusty, and the label was faded but still legible—Christmas Blessing Wine, 1955.
“Oh my God.” I moved closer, my hands hovering near it but not quite touching. “Where did you find this?”
“In the rare room. In the caves.” He watched my reaction. “After you left, I went back to the house, and Bit reminded me that Tryst had found it.”
I stared at the bottle, my mind racing. “There’s actually a bottle. A real bottle.”
“Just one, as far as we know.”
“This is incredible.” I reached out, then stopped myself.
“We could have it analyzed,” Snapper said. “Modern technology can determine the exact composition. We wouldn’t need to find the missing formulas. We’d have everything we need.”
“Really? That’s possible?”
“Yeah. But, Saffron...Once we open it, it’s gone. Opening it means destroying it forever.”
“We can’t.”
“It might be our only option—”
“No.” I stepped away from the counter, from the bottle, from him. “This is part of your family’s history. Part of mine too. Once it’s poured down some lab drain, it’s gone. We can’t undo that.”
“But then we’d have the formula—”
“Maybe. What if the technology isn’t perfect? What if it can’t capture exactly what they did? What if there’s some step, some technique that isn’t in the chemistry of the wine itself? I can’t be responsible for destroying the only evidence that this wine ever existed.”
He moved closer. “Saffron, listen to me—”
“No.” I held up a hand. “You listen. I appreciate that you found it. I appreciate that your family agreed to help. But I can’t—I won’t—destroy something this important on the chance that maybe it’ll give us what we need.”
“Even if it could save you?”
His statement hung in the air between us, heavy with implication.
My throat closed. “What do you mean?”
He searched my face. “I know something’s wrong. Something big. And you won’t tell me what it is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” He took another step closer. “I’ve known you too long. I can see it in your face, in the way you can barely hold it together. The desperation. The fear. Dammit, Saffron, why won’t you just tell me?”
“There’s nothing—”
“Stop lying to me!” His frustration nearly undid me. “You know I’ll help. But you have to fucking trust me.”
Tears burned behind my eyes and I shook my head.
“Why can’t you tell me?”
Because you’ll offer money. Because my father will refuse. Because you’ll leave anyway, and I’ll be left with nothing but a broken heart and a foreclosed winery.
Because Isabel was right—I’m just convenient.
“Saffron.” He stepped close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his body. “Talk to me. Please.”
I shook my head, unable to speak.
His hand came up, cupping my face with a gentleness that made everything inside me crack. “Why won’t you let me in?”
“Because—” I couldn’t continue.
His thumb caught a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “What are you afraid of?”
“That you’ll leave. That I don’t matter.” It all poured out of me, years of frustration and longing spilling over. “I’m convenient. Available. And—”
His other hand came up to frame my face. “You think that’s all you are to me? Convenient?”
“Aren’t I?”
“No.” His tone was fierce. “You’re not convenient.
You’ve never been convenient. You’ve been—” He stopped, and his eyes searched mine.
“You’ve been the one person I couldn’t stop thinking about.
The one person I looked forward to seeing every time I came home.
The reason I started coming home more often even when I didn’t need to. ”
“Snapper—”