Whispered Melodies, page 11
“Let’s move on to reds,” Ivy said, and they sampled a Pinot Noir, Merlot, and Cabernet Sauvignon.
“I already lean toward the reds,” he told them. “I like how mellow and rich they are.”
Reagan chuckled. “I’m the opposite. I’m really drawn to the whites we sampled, especially the Moscato and Sauvignon Blanc.”
“We also need to try a few blends and get your opinions regarding those,” Ivy said. “After Braden was here for several months, Dad asked him to take over as the chief winemaker for the Lost Creek Vineyards label. We’ve always been a family operation, with Dad creating the wines and doing the marketing, while Mom handled all the bookkeeping, insurance, and taxes. Dad wanted to step away from the actual making of the wines, however, and focus his time on marketing and growing our label’s footprint. Braden has continued to make our reds and whites, but he is really moving us more into blends.”
Ivy explained to them the ratio of various blends, and Reagan said, “If I would’ve had a teacher like you in school, you would have been my favorite, Ivy. I feel I’m learning so much in such a short amount of time.”
Ivy laughed. “I could talk about wines all day. I do miss being able to sip one, though.” She patted her belly fondly. “It’s a good thing I know enough about the process and taste so that I’m still able to manage the tasting room and conduct tastings with customers who are eager to learn more about wine.”
They tried a couple of blends, and Reagan said, “I think these are my favorite. They seem to bring the best of both worlds together.”
“I do like them,” Tucker added. “Not that I’ll give up beer anytime soon, but I have a greater appreciation now of all the hard work which goes into making a wine. I discovered a few tonight that I’d actually choose to drink again. Over beer.”
“I’m always bringing different wines to Wednesday dinners,” Ivy said. “I check with whoever is cooking the meal that week and then choose bottles accordingly.” She looked at them hopefully. “You two better join us again. Finley will be preparing a Mediterranean feast this coming Wednesday.”
Reagan shook her head. “It was lovely to be invited this week, but I don’t expect an invitation every week. Tucker’s different. He’s from here. Well, sort of.”
“No, Reagan,” Ivy protested. “We want you to come. For as long as you’re in Lost Creek. You don’t have to give me an answer now.” Then she grinned. “Finley and I will tag team and simply wear you down at coffee tomorrow.”
Laughter bubbled up from Reagan, and Tucker thought he’d never heard a sweeter sound. He pushed aside the thought, telling himself he’d come back to it later and decipher what it meant.
“I’m looking forward to coffee in the morning with the two of you,” Reagan said. “And to seeing your art at some point if you’re willing to allow me a glimpse.”
“My studio is above the hardware store on the square. It used to be an apartment Mayor Bennett leased out, but I’ve taken over the space for my painting. Why don’t you stop by about eight-thirty before we’re due at Java Junction? You can see my work then.”
“Is that too early?” Reagan asked.
Ivy replied, “I’m an early bird. There are times I get to the studio at six and paint several hours before I leave to come here for my shift at eleven-thirty.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you. Or interrupt your painting time,” Reagan said.
“I finished something new yesterday,” Ivy said. “All I’ll be doing tomorrow morning is sketching, trying to figure out the next subject I’ll paint. You won’t be interrupting anything, and I won’t even have brushes to clean before we head to Java Junction.”
“Then I’ll park on the square and meet you there,” Reagan promised.
“Em texted and asked if I could drop you two back at the B&B,” Ivy said. “Give me a couple of minutes to clean up, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Anything we can do to help?” Tucker asked.
“Thanks for the offer, but it won’t take me long.”
He and Reagan walked through the rest of the tasting room, viewing the different awards Lost Creek Vineyards wines had received over the years.
“This is really laid out nicely,” Reagan commented.
“Ivy told me the original tasting room was much smaller, but the architect who worked on the event center designed a new tasting room to her specifications.”
“From what I gather, the Hill Country is a popular weekend destination for wine tasting and antiquing. Aunt Jean usually books up most weekends, especially the two cottages on the property.”
“Are you still up for dinner at Blackwood BBQ?” he asked.
Her gaze met his. “I am. I can’t wait to eat some Texas barbeque again. It’s been too long. It will also give us time to talk more.”
Tucker nodded. “Yes. It’s something I know we need to do. There are things I need to say to you, Reagan.”
11
Ivy dropped them at The Inn at Lost Creek, saying she would see Reagan in the morning at her studio. They got out of the car, and Reagan pointed to her rental.
“Let’s go straight to dinner,” she suggested.
“Sounds good to me. Even though we nibbled on some cheese at the tasting, I’m always ready for barbeque,” Tucker said.
Driving back into town, Reagan headed down Main Street, where many of Lost Creek’s stores and restaurants were located. She turned into the parking lot of Blackwood BBQ, and they got out of the car.
Tucker came to meet her. “First thing? Wait for me to help you out of the car. I know you’ve been a fancy, do things yourself New Yorker for a long time, but you’re back in Texas now, Reagan.”
She liked hearing that. She remembered her dad always opening the car door for her mom whenever they went places.
They walked through the parking lot, and Reagan saw the smokers lined along the side of the property. The delicious aroma of smoked meats wafted through the air.
As they entered the restaurant, she saw that it was a self-service place. Tucker handed her a tray and wrapped napkin containing silverware, and she put it down and began sliding it along the track.
“Tucker!” a man called jovially. “You didn’t tell me you were coming in for dinner tonight. Glad I stuck around.”
“I’ll forward my entire social calendar to you, Uncle Shy,” he said, and she saw the mischievous glint in his eyes. “This here is Reagan Bradley. My uncle, Shy Blackwood, Reagan.”
The restaurant owner beamed at her. “You have to be Jean Bradley’s Reagan,” he said. “Miss Jean is mighty proud of you. Heard you were coming to stay with her. You work in New York, I think?”
“I have for many years, Mr. Blackwood, but I’ve decided to move back to Texas.”
“The little lady has good sense,” he declared. “And it’s Shy. Mr. Blackwood was my daddy, and he’s been gone a good many years now. What can I get for you, Reagan?”
She hesitated, looking at the numerous cuts of meat. “I’m not quite sure.”
“I’ll order for us, Uncle Shy,” Tucker said, taking charge. “We’re going to share some so that Reagan can taste most of what’s on the menu. She’ll do the two-meat plate. Sliced brisket and smoked sausage.”
“You got it,” Shy said, and he went to work. His hands moved quickly as he sliced the beef and sausage.
Reagan said, “If they had an Olympics for carving and slicing meat, you’d be the USA’s gold medalist, Shy.”
He laughed heartily, a pleased look on his face. “You better watch this one, Tuck.”
“Oh, I plan to keep an eye on her.”
She glanced at him and caught the appreciative look in his eye. Her stomach erupted, butterflies fluttering madly.
“I’ll do the three-meat,” Tucker continued. “Give me ham, turkey, and more of the sliced brisket. We’ll also take a couple of those jalapeño poppers.”
As Shy got to work, she asked Tucker, “What are those?”
“Sweetest thing you’ll ever put in your mouth that isn’t dessert. It’s a jumbo-sized shrimp, wrapped in bacon, with just a bit of jalapeño to give it a nice kick. You’ll like it. I promise.”
She knew she would like it. Reagan also knew how much she already liked this man. More than was wise. Her head told her to slam on the brakes, but her heart was opening up more with the passing of each minute in Tucker Young’s company.
Shy handed over their plates and said, “Make sure you get some of the coleslaw, Reagan. It’s tasty.”
“I will, Shy. And this isn’t the last you’ll see of me.”
He looked from her to Tucker and back again. “No, I expect it isn’t.” To Tucker, he added, “Shelly wants you to come to dinner. Bring Reagan here with you. How ‘bout Sunday night at six?”
“That’s good for me,” Tucker said, looking to her.
Reagan nodded. “I’d be happy to come for dinner and meet your wife, Shy.”
“Good deal. See you then.”
They pushed their trays down the line, Tucker picking up a few sides as they went.
“This is a lot of food,” she said, eyeing everything on their trays.
“I’ll polish off whatever you can’t finish.”
He insisted on paying for the two of them, and they carried their trays to a corner booth.
“I’ll be back. Want to get an extra plate,” Tucker said.
When he returned, he set it between them. “This’ll be the communal plate. I’m going to give you some of what I got.” He paused, his gaze penetrating. “I know eating off someone’s plate can be pretty intimate, and I don’t want to rush anything.”
She appreciated his candor as he placed a slice of the ham and turkey on it for her. He also spooned a couple of bites of each side onto the plate for her.
“Let me give you one of these sausage links,” she said, spearing it and passing it to him. Then Reagan poured barbeque sauce over her brisket and dove in.
She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, savoring the rich, smoky taste of the brisket. “Your uncle sure knows his barbeque.”
“Uncle Shy learned everything from his dad and grandfather. Barbequing is in the Blackwood genes.”
Thinking to what she had heard earlier today from Emerson, she said, “I know you want to write music, but you probably need to come up with a way to put food on the table. According to Emerson, Ry’s business is booming. He really could use a hand. She helps out sometimes, but she’s busy with her baking and supervising at The Bake House.”
“I think I’ll approach Ry and see if we can work out something,” Tucker said thoughtfully. “I helped him the other day on his food truck, and we proved to be a darn good team.”
They talked about different things in Lost Creek as they ate dinner, but Reagan was aware the entire time of the more serious things that should be discussed. When they finished eating, Tucker set down his fork.
“We need to talk about what happened before,” he said bluntly. “About that kiss.”
“I thought it was a very sweet one,” she said. “It made me feel special, Tucker, and I haven’t felt that way in a very long time.”
“I held back,” he admitted. “I’ve just gained you as a friend, Reagan, and I don’t want to lose your friendship. I think because of what we’ve both experienced, we understand one another better than most people do. It’s created an instant bond between us because we lost someone we loved so quickly and unexpectedly.”
She nodded encouragingly, wondering where he was going with this.
“I’ve been existing for the past couple of years since Josie’s death,” he shared. “It’s like I didn’t want to face the fact that she was gone. It’s why I took off. Everything in our house reminded me of her. Even the faint scent of perfume on her pillowcase. I had to get as far away as I could before I went crazy.” He paused. “Or killed myself.”
She gasped.
He took a sip of his iced tea. “It took Emerson reaching out to me to realize I can’t run anymore. I’m too tired. I’ve got to face the fact that Josie’s dead. She’s gone. She’s never coming back.”
“You’ll always have your memories of her,” Reagan said, wanting to comfort him, understanding exactly where he was coming from. “You’ll love Josie forever. That will never change. I get it, though. You may have restlessly roamed the country, trying to escape your pain. I pushed aside my grief and buried myself in my work. My life was the same as yours. I merely existed. Put one foot in front of the other. Kept making the next deal. The next trade. I worked practically every waking hour, falling into bed late at night, trying never to think about what had happened.”
She swallowed. “I put my life on hold because the life I’d pictured with Arch would never come to pass. I still love him. I still grieve for what we could have had and never got to experience. Arch was so full of life, Tucker. He would be angry at me for sticking my head in the sand and letting life pass me by. I guess I’ve come to Lost Creek to find myself once again. To figure out who I really am without Arch. And to move forward with this new me. The me that’s left.”
He nodded solemnly. “I get that. Josie was a real firecracker. She would be pissed because I’m still moping around two years later.”
Tucker reached and took her hand. A calm descended upon Reagan. It was as if this man now anchored her after she’d been adrift for so long. She needed to be open to the possibilities that lay ahead.
“I want to be your friend, Reagan. I think I want to be more than that, too. It isn’t something I want to rush into, though.”
“I agree. I think we’ll be dealing with a lot of emotions. Some similar. Some different. I think the most important thing is for us to be honest with one another. Communication is going to be key in whatever we do.”
Tucker nodded in agreement. “I’ve never been one to talk things out in the past. Josie used to get frustrated with me about that. Maybe that’s one lesson she tried to teach me that I’ll finally take to heart now. We do need to talk every step of the way. If we’re comfortable with something, we keep going. If one of us needs to put the brakes on, we do.”
His gaze met hers, and Reagan felt as if Tucker could see down to her very soul, a place she’d only allowed Arch to venture.
“This may be a temporary thing, Reagan,” he added. “We may explore the attraction between us and decide it’s best to leave things as being friends. You might figure out that you want to leave Lost Creek, and I would support your decision.” He hesitated. “What I’m willing to say is that I’m open to whatever possibilities lie ahead. Temporary— or permanent.”
He squeezed her hand.
“I’ll admit I haven’t looked at or even thought about another man since Arch.” She smiled. “That changed the moment I pulled up at the inn and saw you rocking on the porch. You’re quite the looker, Cowboy,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood some.
His hand tightened around hers. “Let me just say one thing, Caramel. The next time I kiss you— if there’s a next time —it’s not going to be some friendly little peck on the lips. Your toes are going to curl.”
The electricity crackled between them, and Reagan knew despite the conversation they’d just had about taking things slowly, the inevitable was going to happen between them.
She was going to kiss Tucker Young. Make love with Tucker Young.
Reagan didn’t know if it would be a one and done and they would move on, or if it would be the start of a new relationship.
He released her hand. “So, I guess we’re going to call this our first date. Are you up for a second one?”
Grinning at him, she said, “I believe I am. You have anything in mind?”
He pointed to the wall, which was peppered with flyers. “On the way in, we passed a poster of the football team’s schedule. The Lost Creek Lions have a home game tomorrow night. How about you and I go cheer them on? Nothing like a Friday night football game date.”
A nervous giggle erupted from her, and Tucker gave her a questioning look. “What? You don’t want to go to a high school game?”
“I may have been born and bred in Texas, but I’ve never attended a football game in my life. I’ve never even watched one on TV. I don’t know the first thing about it.”
“Sacrilege!” he proclaimed facetiously. “How could you make it through school without going to game? Football is life.”
The old Reagan popped out suddenly, the one which was shy and unsure of herself. She had fought for years to keep that Reagan in a box and had succeeded in doing so during her professional days in New York.
“I was a big dork in high school, Tucker. The worst kind. Not even a band geek. I never had a date in high school or college. Friday nights, you could find me with my nose stuck in a book.”
“Well, that’s going to change, Miss Bradley. I’m going to explain the rules of football to you, and knowing how you soak up knowledge quickly, you will become a football expert in no time.”
She laughed, hoping this man could bring her out of the dark cave she had lurked in since Arch’s death. She had been a hermit for too long.
It was time to live again.
“You’ll need to start at the very beginning,” Reagan declared.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “This is one thing I know a lot about.” Tucker looked at her hungrily. “And I think you’ll be a terrific student, Caramel.”
12
Reagan eased her car into a parking spot halfway between the hardware store and Java Junction. As she got out, she thought that she would need to purchase her own vehicle now that she was going to live in Texas. Renting was expensive. Not that she couldn’t afford it, but she’d rather buy or lease something to her own taste instead of the rental she’d taken when she landed in Austin. She would need to think about when she could return the car to Austin and find something permanent and jotted a note on her phone’s to-do list as she approached the hardware store.
Ivy had told her there was a set of stairs in back, and she went to the side of the building to take them, knocking on the door.
