Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Blackwood Estate Winery
Aubrey
By the next morning, the whole estate looked different.
The vineyards out the office window were the same neat, sloping rows.
But something in Aubrey had shifted.
Last night, Bennett McCrae had found her in the wreckage and simply held on until she stopped fighting the grief.
Now the same view felt less like a crime scene and more like a question.
Was she staying?
Aubrey was halfway through payroll reports when a knock sounded against the open office door.
“Busy?”
She looked up.
Chloe stood in the doorway holding a coffee and trying not to smile.
That was never a good sign.
“What?”
Chloe folded her arms.
“Question.”
Aubrey sighed.
“That tone means I’m not going to like it.”
“Probably not.”
“What?”
“You had thirty boxes delivered to the front porch of the Victorian.”
Aubrey blinked.
“What?”
“Thirty.”
“Thirty?”
“Maybe thirty-two.”
Aubrey dropped her pen.
“Thirty-two boxes?”
Chloe nodded.
“FedEx.”
Aubrey stared at her.
Chloe’s grin widened.
“So.”
“No.”
“So either you’ve decided to stay...”
“Chloe.”
“...or you’re moving out.”
“I’m not moving out.”
“Then congratulations.”
Aubrey pointed toward the door.
“Leave.”
Chloe laughed.
“I’m just saying. Most people don’t ship their entire life across the country unless they’re planning to unpack it.”
Before Aubrey could answer, her phone buzzed.
Text message.
Machelle.
A smile tugged at her mouth before she could stop it.
She opened the message.
Machelle: I tracked your shipment. Looks like all your clothes and household stuff finally arrived in Sylva.
A second text appeared immediately.
Machelle: So either you’ve decided to stay or you’ve completely lost your mind.
Aubrey snorted.
Chloe’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That means something.”
Aubrey ignored her.
Another text popped up.
Machelle: Also, are you alive? Because none of us have heard from you in forever and we’re starting to think you’ve been kidnapped by mountain people.
A laugh escaped.
Chloe pointed.
“There. Again.”
Aubrey rolled her eyes.
Another message appeared.
Machelle: We miss you.
For a second, that one hit harder than the others.
Philadelphia. Her apartment. Her friends. Her old life.
Aubrey’s fingers moved almost on their own.
Aubrey: I miss you too.
She hovered over send for a heartbeat, then tapped it.
Another text arrived before she could think too long.
Machelle: How’s the hot security detail?
Aubrey groaned.
“Oh, this is definitely something,” Chloe said.
Aubrey ignored her.
Another message.
Machelle: Or the vineyard troll. I can never remember which one we’re calling him.
Aubrey shook her head.
Then came another.
Machelle: And before you dodge the question... Did you ever figure out where those coordinates lead?
Heat rushed straight into her face.
Immediately.
The tattoo.
The coordinates inked low on Bennett’s stomach.
The ones she’d traced with her fingertips.
The ones that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.
The ones she’d completely forgotten to ask about.
“Oh my God.”
Chloe’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You are blushing.”
“I’m not blushing.”
“You absolutely are blushing.”
Another text arrived.
Machelle: Wait. You know where they lead now, don’t you?
Aubrey covered her face with one hand.
“Oh no.”
Machelle: OH MY GOD YOU DO.
Despite everything, Aubrey laughed.
Machelle: Call me. Immediately. And tell me everything.
Chloe pointed toward the phone.
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
The answer came a little too quickly.
Chloe raised an eyebrow.
“That wasn’t a no.”
Aubrey opened her mouth.
Closed it again.
Because unfortunately, Chloe was right.
That hadn’t sounded like a no at all.
Her phone buzzed one final time.
Machelle: Seriously. How are you?
Aubrey stared at the question.
Her thumbs hovered over the screen.
Aubrey: Complicated. I’ll call you soon, promise.
She sent it, hoping it would hold her friend a little longer.
The smile faded slightly.
She’d just typed “complicated,” but even that didn’t touch it.
Her entire life had arrived on the porch of a Victorian mansion she’d inherited from an aunt she’d barely known.
The same aunt who had paid for four years at Penn.
The same aunt who had spent decades trying to reach her.
The same aunt who had been murdered.
Aubrey looked out the office window.
Toward the mansion visible through the trees.
Thirty-two boxes sat waiting on the front porch.
Her life.
Waiting to be unpacked.
Home suddenly felt like a much more complicated word.
A shadow moved in the doorway.
Chloe straightened.
“I’ll let you get back to it,” she said, scooping up her empty coffee cup. “Try to take a break before your brain melts.”
She slipped out past the figure in the doorway.
Bennett.
He watched Chloe go, then looked at Aubrey.
“You were smiling,” he said.
“I smile,” she said.
“Not like that.”
He nodded toward her phone.
“Machelle?”
“Maybe.”
He stepped closer.
“Is that Philadelphia checking in?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“That didn’t sound like a no.”
She glared.
“It’s not a boyfriend. It’s a menace.”
“Ah. One of those.”
He leaned a hip against the desk.
His gaze drifted to the screen.
A notification still glowed there.
Did you ever figure out where those coordinates lead?
Bennett’s mouth curved.
"Wait," he said. "Your friends still talking about my tattoo?"
Aubrey felt heat rush back into her cheeks.
"Machelle doesn't let anything go."
He laughed softly.
“I knew you were checking me out when I was asleep on that couch.”
“You were snoring,” she said. “It was hard to miss.”
“You were looking,” he said. “You wanted to know where they led.”
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Because again, unfortunately, he was right.
His smile turned lazy.
“If you still want to know,” he said, straightening, “I could meet you at the house for lunch.”
Aubrey’s heart gave an unhelpful little kick.
“That’s specific,” she managed.
“Professional courtesy,” he said. “Keeps expectations low.”
She huffed out a laugh.
“Go do your job, McCrae.”
He tipped an invisible hat.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He started toward the door.
Chloe passed in the hallway, caught the look he and Aubrey traded, and made a soft, low whistle.
“Well, damn,” she said under her breath. “Hi, eye contact.”
“Get out, Chloe,” they said in unison.
Chloe laughed.
“See?” she muttered as she headed down the hall. “You two think you’re subtle.”
Bennett pushed away from the doorway and walked out, leaving Aubrey alone with the reports.
And the text messages.
Still, as she glanced at the glowing notification on her screen, she realized she was already thinking about lunch.
Production Office
Down on the main floor, Chloe propped the door to the small production office open with her hip and slid a long clipboard onto the desk.
Savannah looked up from her inventory spreadsheet, a pencil tucked behind her ear. “You look ridiculously pleased with yourself.”
“I am pleased with myself,” Chloe replied, pulling up a rolling chair. “Thirty-two boxes of high-end corporate wardrobe just landed on the Victorian porch. The FedEx guy looked like he wanted to pass out in the driveway. Our Philly girl isn’t going back north anytime soon.”
Savannah sat back, a soft smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “So she’s really unpacking. Even with Burke turning the house upside down?”
“Unpacking and digging in,” Chloe said, taking a sip of her coffee. “The whole town is panicking, and she’s up there aggressively auditing payroll. She’s not running.”
Savannah’s expression softened, her gaze dipping back toward the spreadsheet. “Good. Mabel would’ve haunted us if we let her walk away.”
“Oh, Mabel is absolutely haunting us either way,” Chloe laughed. “But did you catch Bennett in Aubrey’s office just now?”
Savannah’s mouth curved. “Hard to miss. The man takes up the entire mezzanine.”
“Whew,” Chloe said, fanning herself once with a packing slip. “Talk about fireworks. Those two are completely into each other. The glaring? The bickering? It’s spectacular.”
Savannah snorted. “Are you just now getting that, Chloe?”
“Vanessa’s history,” Chloe said with a shrug. “Besides, this is the most I’ve ever seen Bennett McCrae smile since I started working here. He’s completely done for.”
Savannah rolled her eyes affectionately, but she was smiling as she looked up toward the mezzanine glass. “Zack Fowler is going to be deeply disappointed, though. Our cellar master was a little smitten himself.”
“Come on. If they’re going to bicker their way into saving this winery, the least we can do is finish this valve inventory.”
Savannah shook her head, still smiling, and went back to her spreadsheet.
Aubrey’s laughter drifted down the iron stairwell.
Chloe looked up toward the mezzanine.
A slow smile spread across her face.
Told you.