Illicit (The Agents), page 31
https://BookHip.com/TCCRLDP
Read Brax’s story in Possession
Read Micah’s story in Tapped
Read King’s story in Exposed
Read Cole’s story in Scars
Read the exciting new series featuring the small town of Winslet where Rocco and Teagan went on their honeymoon! Winslet
Keep up with all Brynne Asher books and news
http://eepurl.com/gFVMUP
Join my reader group on Facebook to keep up with my latest news
Brynne Asher’s Beauties
ALSO BY BRYNNE ASHER
The Agents
Possession
Tapped
Exposed
Illicit
Winslet
Winslet
Killers Series
Vines – A Killers Novel, Book 1
Paths – A Killers Novel, Book 2
Gifts – A Killers Novel, Book 3
Veils – A Killers Novel, Book 4
Scars – A Killers Novel, Book 5
Souls – A Killers Novel, Book 6
Until the Tequila – A Killers Crossover Novella
The Killers, The Next Generation
Levi, Asa’s son
The Carpino Series
Overflow – The Carpino Series, Book 1
Beautiful Life – The Carpino Series, Book 2
Athica Lane – The Carpino Series, Book 3
Until Avery – A Carpino Series Crossover Novella
Force of Nature - A Carpino Christmas Novel
The Dillon Sisters
Deathly by Brynne Asher
Damaged by Layla Frost
The Montgomery Series
Bad Situation – The Montgomery Series, Book 1
Broken Halo – The Montgomery Series, Book 2
Betrayed Love - The Montgomery Series, Book 3
Standalones
Blackburn
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The moment I created Rocco Monroe in book one of The Agents, I knew he needed a happily ever after. He grew up, matured, and this is his time. I hope I did him justice. His story broke my heart while writing at times, but it was him who put it back together.
I love Teagan as an adult. She’s a woman who knows what she wants and doesn’t stop until she gets it. May we all have a little bit of Teagan in our souls.
Well, I did it again to Hadley Finn. I asked her to edit my raw words. How many deadlines can a book have? Hadley continues to be a cheerleader, my editor, and my friend. I wouldn’t be able to do this without her.
Annette, thank you for your daily support and friendship. You go above and beyond what any PA should. I’m blessed to have you in my life.
Carrie and Beth, you are the best proofreaders around. I’m not sure what I did to deserve you. Thank you for always having my back.
Emoji read this book in under twenty-four hours. That’s a record. And can we all say a collective thank you to my hubs for the kickass playlists? He did it again.
Michele, thank you for reading chapter by chapter, like you always do, and being patient. You have permission to demand words from me faster from here on out.
MSB Design – Ms. Betty’s Design Studio absolutely killed it with the covers for The Agents. Betty, thank you for your patience and knowing exactly what this book needed more than I did.
I don’t hand out many ARCs these days, and it’s for a reason. My review team is the best. Thank you for always wanting my words and crazy love stories.
And finally, thank you to my Beauties for hanging with me on a daily basis. There are anywhere between 362 to 363 days a year I do not release a new book. That’s a lot of time to talk about things other than new releases. You make every day bright and happy.
All my love,
BA xo
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brynne Asher lives in the Midwest with her husband, three children, and her perfect dog. When she isn’t creating pretend people and relationships in her head, she’s running her kids around and doing laundry. She enjoys cooking, decorating, shopping at outlet malls and online, always seeking the best deal. A perfect day in Brynne World ends in front of an outdoor fire with family, friends, s’mores, and a delicious cocktail.
READ A SAMPLE OF VINES BY BRYNNE ASHER
Vines, Book 1 of The Killers
Prologue
Crew
“Are you sure I can’t show you something in the District? Perhaps Georgetown or a brownstone in Arlington would better suit you. Your commute from way out here will be a bear.”
I stare out the window from one of the top-floor bedrooms, wondering what I’ll do with all this square footage. Shit. I wonder what I’ll do staying put for more than a few days at a time. Looking over the snow-covered mountains, or what they consider mountains in Virginia, I think about space and privacy. I need both now more than ever.
She moves closer, her spiked heels clicking on the aged wood echoes through the empty room. “With your loan approval, you can afford a lovely penthouse overlooking the Potomac. Do you boat?”
Fuck. Do I look like I boat? I wish she’d shut up. I’m sick of her talking. My loan approval is a fake, because at this point, it’s none of her business I’m paying cash.
“Mr. Vega?” she calls for me and I have to exhale to keep my patience.
Ignoring her, I deliberate on the only drawback to the property. I wanted three hundred and sixty acres so I don’t have a neighbor. “You said this is two hundred and seventy acres. Who shares the section of land?”
It’s her turn to exhale, her voice going bored. “A vineyard. I looked into it when you insisted on viewing this property. It’s changed hands four times in the last nine years. Apparently, everyone thinks they can make wine. The new owner has seen some success. There’s no need for anxiety. The building and land are on the National Register because of its history and the age of the original structure. I believe it dates back to the sixteen hundreds. Properties such as these are hardly ever broken up. If you insist on the country life, your neighbor shouldn’t be of concern.”
I’ll run that background myself.
Turning to her, I cross my arms. “You said the outbuildings have heat and water?”
She sighs, realizing she isn’t going to sell me a penthouse in Georgetown. Not that her commission on this place won’t be a mint.
“Yes. The previous owner was a mechanic specializing in large farm equipment. There’s heat for the winter and air for summer months,” she utters, flipping her jeweled hand toward the window.
We won’t need much heat and absolutely no air in the summer. It’s part of the program—they have to learn to live in the conditions.
I nod, looking back out over the countryside thinking this could be it. I’m ready for something different, ready to retire from the life I’ve lived the last ten years, even if it means I have to train my replacements.
“I need to make a phone call and look at the outbuildings.” I turn back to her and raise an eyebrow, glancing down at her feet. “You want to trudge through the snow with me, or should I meet you back at the cars?”
Her look turns resigned, her voice bland when she replies, “Take your time. I’ll draw up the paperwork.”
I reach for my phone and start for the door mumbling, “Perfect.”
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, my call has barely rung once when Asa answers, a smile in his voice. “Vega. What’d ya think of Stacey?”
“Fuck you, old man,” I growl as I head out the front door to round the house.
“Me?” he feigns. “That was Stacey’s job. You didn’t like my welcome home gift?”
“Don’t know if I’m home. It’s been a long time.” I crunch through the snow in my combat boots.
“You’re home, boy. Don’t question that,” his voice turns serious.
I make my way through the barren woods that’ll be perfect when it’s thick with growth, toward the largest outbuilding. There’re three, but I only need to make one comfortable or Grady’ll be a thorn in my side.
“I need a favor,” I say, my breath visible in the cold.
“Thought I was doing you a favor by sending Stacey,” he grumbles.
I ignore him. “If these buildings check out, I’m making an offer today. Ready to get this shit done.”
“Fine, what now?” he complains.
“I need a background check on the owner next door. It’s a vineyard on a quarter section, adjacent to this property. I need it in an hour.”
“Done. I’ll hit you back.” He’s all business and abruptly disconnects.
As I make my way up the so-called mountain, I stop when I come into view of the neighboring property. The vines are bare like everything else, but there aren’t any houses or buildings in view.
I turn and look back to my new house, thinking this is good. No direct sight—I can make use of the far side of the property for privacy. As long as the owner’s background comes back clean—this is it.
A new chapter. A new start. And fuckin’ finally, just maybe, a life.
Chapter 1
Cows Are Girls
Addy
“Harry!”
“Moo.” Scarlett nudges my shoulder roughly.
I push my hair out of my face. My naturally frizzy locks haven’t been the same since I moved here. If I had known the humidity was this bad, I never would have settled in Virginia. It doesn’t matter what the temps are, the humidity in the middle of summer is the worst. Heaven forbid it rains, not only is it bad for the vines, the humidity jumps to a gazillion percent.
I’ve got to get Morris to fix this section of fence. Harry has over forty acres to roam. You’d think forty acres would be more than enough for five cows. It’s not like I have a herd. Harry’s always the loner, poor girl.
I trudge up over the hill in my Hunter rain boots. The ticks are thick this time of year—no way am I going to risk walking with the cows in anything else. It gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. Over the last year, I’ve come to enjoy my morning walk with the girls. I don’t get out here every day—it depends on the schedule. Today is Thursday and it’s slow. The tasting room doesn’t open until eleven and even though I have meetings, my first event isn’t until late this afternoon.
“Harry!” I call again.
“Moo.” Scarlett nudges me harder than before.
“No-no.” I try and push her away. “You’re so needy and it’s too hot for you to crowd me. Go graze with your sisters.”
Of course, she ignores me and nuzzles my ear. Jimmy, Maria, and Jax act like normal cows, grazing the way a cow should while lazing their days away in the meadows. Scarlett lives up to her namesake—she’s melodramatic and boisterous. And poor Harry, she only wants to be by herself, to the point of escaping to the neighbor’s property. She knows her space—she’s lived here longer than me and cows are smarter than I ever would have guessed.
I never thought I’d own a cow, let alone five, but I inherited them when I bought the vineyard. I also inherited my caretaker, Morris, and his wife Beverly. Oh, and there’s the winemaker, Van, the tasting room manager, Evan—who’s barely old enough to legally taste wine himself—and the chef, Maggie. I didn’t know all these people came along with the vineyard when I bought it, but the day I signed my closing papers and walked into my new home and business, there they were waiting for me. They proceeded to tell me how things ran and why the previous three owners didn’t work out for them.
That first day, I got the distinct impression I was interviewing to be their boss. It didn’t matter whose name was on the loan or officially owned the establishment. When they explained to me all the reasons the past owners failed, I knew then and there if they didn’t like me, I’d fall flat, too. It didn’t matter that I’d sunk every penny to my name into a struggling winery.
Morris and Bev live on the property in the caretaker’s home where they’ve been for eighteen years. I might own that teensy little house on the far side of my land, but it’s very much theirs. Morris knows the land and vines well. No way could I get rid of them, even if he is ill-tempered.
Bev doesn’t officially work for the winery, but she’s usually around. Actually, she’s always fussing about like she owns the place since they’ve lived here so long. She keeps all the flowers watered, the tables wiped, and when the spirit moves her—she’ll wash a few dishes. I asked if I should make it official and put her on the payroll. She insists she likes to hang around when she feels like it but when she doesn’t feel like it, she can go her own way. She quickly informed me I pay her plenty in wine and she’s pretty sure that in the end we’re—in her words—Even-Steven. I’ve learned to go with the flow and keep her in wine because she’s as lovable as Morris is irritable.
I might’ve bought a vineyard, but I’m a beer girl who happens to be creative when it comes to business. I knew nothing about wine but when I found a great deal on a small struggling vineyard. All I saw was opportunity. I immediately knew how to turn it around.
As finicky as Van is about crafting wine, I knew I needed him. I try and ignore all the female customers whose sole reason for visiting is to lust after him. He’s a manwhore in his forties who resembles a young Robert Redford. There’s no other way to describe him. The women know he’s a manwhore, but they don’t seem to care one bit. I’ve never seen anything like it, but he brings in his share of business, so I’ve learned not to care, either.
Maggie is a young widow in her early fifties who can make a mean soup and sandwich. Her desserts are hit or miss. Well, mostly miss. I’ve started ordering from a local bakery even though it pisses her off. Lately she’s been experimenting with fancy salads for summer—so far, they’ve been a hit. Is she really a chef? No, but she runs an interesting deli out of the tasting room kitchen and customers seem to like her creativity. Even after a year, she still frightens me a tad.
Evan’s been around slightly longer than me and though he’s merely twenty-four, I’ll never be as refined as the likes of him. Somehow, he can taste ripe apricots glazed with brown sugar butter in a white wine, and a woodsy fall day underlying a white pepper and smoky cheddar in a red. People ecstatically agree—wondering how they didn’t taste it on their own to begin with. Customers eat that shit up. I don’t get it— It all tastes like wine to me. But the customers love him and so do I.
There was no way I could get rid of any of these people when I took over. I had no choice but to work hard to make them like me. I think I’ve done okay. One thing’s for sure, I’ve never had so many people in my life.
I climb up the hill, toward the old fence that’s rotting away to look for her. “Harry!”
“You lookin’ for someone?”
I shriek, jumping at the sound of a deep voice coming from my side. I must have startled Scarlett because she moves quickly, pushing me off balance. Letting out another yelp, I fall to my ass with a thud, landing in the morning dew-covered grass.
“Ouch,” I mutter, twigs and rocks pressing into my palms where I tried to catch myself.
“Moo.” Scarlett nudges the side of my head.
“You okay?” I hear and look up.
When I do, I have to squint. Blinded, I can’t see his face so I bring my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun.
The man with the voice is standing across my dilapidated fence, looking down at me. I still can’t see his face, but his body’s covered in a sheen of sweat. He’s wearing an old wife-beater and a pair of cargo shorts with running shoes. The tank is plastered to his tanned skin, covering muscles so distinct, every swell of his chest and abs is visible through the dirty, sweaty material.
“Need a hand?” he asks and starts to move my way, easily stepping over my broken fence.
He’s tall and muscular, so when he moves his body blocks the sun, letting my eyes travel to his face. He’s scruffy, to the point I wonder if he’s starting to grow a beard. I bet he hasn’t shaved in over a week, but underneath the scruff are facial features so rough and masculine, I let my eyes widen to take all of him in.
Standing over me, he extends his long sinewy arm, offering me a big callused hand. “Help up?”
“Uh, sure.” I brush gravel and grass off my hands before putting my left in his right.
His big warm hand envelops mine, he gives me a yank and I’m instantly pulled to my feet. Steadying myself and looking up, I’m face to face with the sweaty stranger standing on my land.
His dark brown hair is sticking to him, falling onto his forehead where perspiration’s dripping down his temples. I let my eyes travel to his lips. They’re full, but frowning. This makes me yank my hand out of his and retreat quickly, pulling myself out of my surprised haze.
“Who are you?” I clip, putting space between us.
He tips his head ever so slightly, narrowing his deep brown eyes, matching the dark themed package he’s got going on. They might be dark but what they are is sharp. In fact, now that I’ve stepped away to take him in all at once, I realize everything about him is razor sharp. His eyes, his expression, even how he holds his body. As much as he’s sweating, he’s not breathing hard as if he was working out. His breathing is relaxed, like he was lounging on the sofa. He appears to be a bevy of contradictions—aloof yet alert, tense yet relaxed, detached yet discerning. Everything about him is simple, but still, he’s exceptionally complex.
I’m jerked out of my contemplation when his full lips form the words, “Your neighbor.”
Oh, thank goodness. I let out a breath of relief. I don’t care if he is tall, dark, and gorgeous, he’s a tad scary looking. Plus, I feel like he snuck up on me. I’m glad to know he’s my neighbor and not a creepy trespasser.
The tension leaves my body. “Sorry, you startled me. I didn’t even hear you. You bought Mr. McCray’s farm?”
Without taking his eyes off me, he simply answers, “Yeah.”
“Okay, now I feel bad,” I exclaim. “I knew it sold. Mr. McCray used to come over often. We even had a little going away thing for him in the tasting room. I knew he moved to be closer to his daughter, but I didn’t know the new owner was in yet. Mr. McCray said the buyer would be doing some modifications before officially taking possession. I should’ve come over to introduce myself.”
Read Brax’s story in Possession
Read Micah’s story in Tapped
Read King’s story in Exposed
Read Cole’s story in Scars
Read the exciting new series featuring the small town of Winslet where Rocco and Teagan went on their honeymoon! Winslet
Keep up with all Brynne Asher books and news
http://eepurl.com/gFVMUP
Join my reader group on Facebook to keep up with my latest news
Brynne Asher’s Beauties
ALSO BY BRYNNE ASHER
The Agents
Possession
Tapped
Exposed
Illicit
Winslet
Winslet
Killers Series
Vines – A Killers Novel, Book 1
Paths – A Killers Novel, Book 2
Gifts – A Killers Novel, Book 3
Veils – A Killers Novel, Book 4
Scars – A Killers Novel, Book 5
Souls – A Killers Novel, Book 6
Until the Tequila – A Killers Crossover Novella
The Killers, The Next Generation
Levi, Asa’s son
The Carpino Series
Overflow – The Carpino Series, Book 1
Beautiful Life – The Carpino Series, Book 2
Athica Lane – The Carpino Series, Book 3
Until Avery – A Carpino Series Crossover Novella
Force of Nature - A Carpino Christmas Novel
The Dillon Sisters
Deathly by Brynne Asher
Damaged by Layla Frost
The Montgomery Series
Bad Situation – The Montgomery Series, Book 1
Broken Halo – The Montgomery Series, Book 2
Betrayed Love - The Montgomery Series, Book 3
Standalones
Blackburn
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The moment I created Rocco Monroe in book one of The Agents, I knew he needed a happily ever after. He grew up, matured, and this is his time. I hope I did him justice. His story broke my heart while writing at times, but it was him who put it back together.
I love Teagan as an adult. She’s a woman who knows what she wants and doesn’t stop until she gets it. May we all have a little bit of Teagan in our souls.
Well, I did it again to Hadley Finn. I asked her to edit my raw words. How many deadlines can a book have? Hadley continues to be a cheerleader, my editor, and my friend. I wouldn’t be able to do this without her.
Annette, thank you for your daily support and friendship. You go above and beyond what any PA should. I’m blessed to have you in my life.
Carrie and Beth, you are the best proofreaders around. I’m not sure what I did to deserve you. Thank you for always having my back.
Emoji read this book in under twenty-four hours. That’s a record. And can we all say a collective thank you to my hubs for the kickass playlists? He did it again.
Michele, thank you for reading chapter by chapter, like you always do, and being patient. You have permission to demand words from me faster from here on out.
MSB Design – Ms. Betty’s Design Studio absolutely killed it with the covers for The Agents. Betty, thank you for your patience and knowing exactly what this book needed more than I did.
I don’t hand out many ARCs these days, and it’s for a reason. My review team is the best. Thank you for always wanting my words and crazy love stories.
And finally, thank you to my Beauties for hanging with me on a daily basis. There are anywhere between 362 to 363 days a year I do not release a new book. That’s a lot of time to talk about things other than new releases. You make every day bright and happy.
All my love,
BA xo
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brynne Asher lives in the Midwest with her husband, three children, and her perfect dog. When she isn’t creating pretend people and relationships in her head, she’s running her kids around and doing laundry. She enjoys cooking, decorating, shopping at outlet malls and online, always seeking the best deal. A perfect day in Brynne World ends in front of an outdoor fire with family, friends, s’mores, and a delicious cocktail.
READ A SAMPLE OF VINES BY BRYNNE ASHER
Vines, Book 1 of The Killers
Prologue
Crew
“Are you sure I can’t show you something in the District? Perhaps Georgetown or a brownstone in Arlington would better suit you. Your commute from way out here will be a bear.”
I stare out the window from one of the top-floor bedrooms, wondering what I’ll do with all this square footage. Shit. I wonder what I’ll do staying put for more than a few days at a time. Looking over the snow-covered mountains, or what they consider mountains in Virginia, I think about space and privacy. I need both now more than ever.
She moves closer, her spiked heels clicking on the aged wood echoes through the empty room. “With your loan approval, you can afford a lovely penthouse overlooking the Potomac. Do you boat?”
Fuck. Do I look like I boat? I wish she’d shut up. I’m sick of her talking. My loan approval is a fake, because at this point, it’s none of her business I’m paying cash.
“Mr. Vega?” she calls for me and I have to exhale to keep my patience.
Ignoring her, I deliberate on the only drawback to the property. I wanted three hundred and sixty acres so I don’t have a neighbor. “You said this is two hundred and seventy acres. Who shares the section of land?”
It’s her turn to exhale, her voice going bored. “A vineyard. I looked into it when you insisted on viewing this property. It’s changed hands four times in the last nine years. Apparently, everyone thinks they can make wine. The new owner has seen some success. There’s no need for anxiety. The building and land are on the National Register because of its history and the age of the original structure. I believe it dates back to the sixteen hundreds. Properties such as these are hardly ever broken up. If you insist on the country life, your neighbor shouldn’t be of concern.”
I’ll run that background myself.
Turning to her, I cross my arms. “You said the outbuildings have heat and water?”
She sighs, realizing she isn’t going to sell me a penthouse in Georgetown. Not that her commission on this place won’t be a mint.
“Yes. The previous owner was a mechanic specializing in large farm equipment. There’s heat for the winter and air for summer months,” she utters, flipping her jeweled hand toward the window.
We won’t need much heat and absolutely no air in the summer. It’s part of the program—they have to learn to live in the conditions.
I nod, looking back out over the countryside thinking this could be it. I’m ready for something different, ready to retire from the life I’ve lived the last ten years, even if it means I have to train my replacements.
“I need to make a phone call and look at the outbuildings.” I turn back to her and raise an eyebrow, glancing down at her feet. “You want to trudge through the snow with me, or should I meet you back at the cars?”
Her look turns resigned, her voice bland when she replies, “Take your time. I’ll draw up the paperwork.”
I reach for my phone and start for the door mumbling, “Perfect.”
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, my call has barely rung once when Asa answers, a smile in his voice. “Vega. What’d ya think of Stacey?”
“Fuck you, old man,” I growl as I head out the front door to round the house.
“Me?” he feigns. “That was Stacey’s job. You didn’t like my welcome home gift?”
“Don’t know if I’m home. It’s been a long time.” I crunch through the snow in my combat boots.
“You’re home, boy. Don’t question that,” his voice turns serious.
I make my way through the barren woods that’ll be perfect when it’s thick with growth, toward the largest outbuilding. There’re three, but I only need to make one comfortable or Grady’ll be a thorn in my side.
“I need a favor,” I say, my breath visible in the cold.
“Thought I was doing you a favor by sending Stacey,” he grumbles.
I ignore him. “If these buildings check out, I’m making an offer today. Ready to get this shit done.”
“Fine, what now?” he complains.
“I need a background check on the owner next door. It’s a vineyard on a quarter section, adjacent to this property. I need it in an hour.”
“Done. I’ll hit you back.” He’s all business and abruptly disconnects.
As I make my way up the so-called mountain, I stop when I come into view of the neighboring property. The vines are bare like everything else, but there aren’t any houses or buildings in view.
I turn and look back to my new house, thinking this is good. No direct sight—I can make use of the far side of the property for privacy. As long as the owner’s background comes back clean—this is it.
A new chapter. A new start. And fuckin’ finally, just maybe, a life.
Chapter 1
Cows Are Girls
Addy
“Harry!”
“Moo.” Scarlett nudges my shoulder roughly.
I push my hair out of my face. My naturally frizzy locks haven’t been the same since I moved here. If I had known the humidity was this bad, I never would have settled in Virginia. It doesn’t matter what the temps are, the humidity in the middle of summer is the worst. Heaven forbid it rains, not only is it bad for the vines, the humidity jumps to a gazillion percent.
I’ve got to get Morris to fix this section of fence. Harry has over forty acres to roam. You’d think forty acres would be more than enough for five cows. It’s not like I have a herd. Harry’s always the loner, poor girl.
I trudge up over the hill in my Hunter rain boots. The ticks are thick this time of year—no way am I going to risk walking with the cows in anything else. It gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. Over the last year, I’ve come to enjoy my morning walk with the girls. I don’t get out here every day—it depends on the schedule. Today is Thursday and it’s slow. The tasting room doesn’t open until eleven and even though I have meetings, my first event isn’t until late this afternoon.
“Harry!” I call again.
“Moo.” Scarlett nudges me harder than before.
“No-no.” I try and push her away. “You’re so needy and it’s too hot for you to crowd me. Go graze with your sisters.”
Of course, she ignores me and nuzzles my ear. Jimmy, Maria, and Jax act like normal cows, grazing the way a cow should while lazing their days away in the meadows. Scarlett lives up to her namesake—she’s melodramatic and boisterous. And poor Harry, she only wants to be by herself, to the point of escaping to the neighbor’s property. She knows her space—she’s lived here longer than me and cows are smarter than I ever would have guessed.
I never thought I’d own a cow, let alone five, but I inherited them when I bought the vineyard. I also inherited my caretaker, Morris, and his wife Beverly. Oh, and there’s the winemaker, Van, the tasting room manager, Evan—who’s barely old enough to legally taste wine himself—and the chef, Maggie. I didn’t know all these people came along with the vineyard when I bought it, but the day I signed my closing papers and walked into my new home and business, there they were waiting for me. They proceeded to tell me how things ran and why the previous three owners didn’t work out for them.
That first day, I got the distinct impression I was interviewing to be their boss. It didn’t matter whose name was on the loan or officially owned the establishment. When they explained to me all the reasons the past owners failed, I knew then and there if they didn’t like me, I’d fall flat, too. It didn’t matter that I’d sunk every penny to my name into a struggling winery.
Morris and Bev live on the property in the caretaker’s home where they’ve been for eighteen years. I might own that teensy little house on the far side of my land, but it’s very much theirs. Morris knows the land and vines well. No way could I get rid of them, even if he is ill-tempered.
Bev doesn’t officially work for the winery, but she’s usually around. Actually, she’s always fussing about like she owns the place since they’ve lived here so long. She keeps all the flowers watered, the tables wiped, and when the spirit moves her—she’ll wash a few dishes. I asked if I should make it official and put her on the payroll. She insists she likes to hang around when she feels like it but when she doesn’t feel like it, she can go her own way. She quickly informed me I pay her plenty in wine and she’s pretty sure that in the end we’re—in her words—Even-Steven. I’ve learned to go with the flow and keep her in wine because she’s as lovable as Morris is irritable.
I might’ve bought a vineyard, but I’m a beer girl who happens to be creative when it comes to business. I knew nothing about wine but when I found a great deal on a small struggling vineyard. All I saw was opportunity. I immediately knew how to turn it around.
As finicky as Van is about crafting wine, I knew I needed him. I try and ignore all the female customers whose sole reason for visiting is to lust after him. He’s a manwhore in his forties who resembles a young Robert Redford. There’s no other way to describe him. The women know he’s a manwhore, but they don’t seem to care one bit. I’ve never seen anything like it, but he brings in his share of business, so I’ve learned not to care, either.
Maggie is a young widow in her early fifties who can make a mean soup and sandwich. Her desserts are hit or miss. Well, mostly miss. I’ve started ordering from a local bakery even though it pisses her off. Lately she’s been experimenting with fancy salads for summer—so far, they’ve been a hit. Is she really a chef? No, but she runs an interesting deli out of the tasting room kitchen and customers seem to like her creativity. Even after a year, she still frightens me a tad.
Evan’s been around slightly longer than me and though he’s merely twenty-four, I’ll never be as refined as the likes of him. Somehow, he can taste ripe apricots glazed with brown sugar butter in a white wine, and a woodsy fall day underlying a white pepper and smoky cheddar in a red. People ecstatically agree—wondering how they didn’t taste it on their own to begin with. Customers eat that shit up. I don’t get it— It all tastes like wine to me. But the customers love him and so do I.
There was no way I could get rid of any of these people when I took over. I had no choice but to work hard to make them like me. I think I’ve done okay. One thing’s for sure, I’ve never had so many people in my life.
I climb up the hill, toward the old fence that’s rotting away to look for her. “Harry!”
“You lookin’ for someone?”
I shriek, jumping at the sound of a deep voice coming from my side. I must have startled Scarlett because she moves quickly, pushing me off balance. Letting out another yelp, I fall to my ass with a thud, landing in the morning dew-covered grass.
“Ouch,” I mutter, twigs and rocks pressing into my palms where I tried to catch myself.
“Moo.” Scarlett nudges the side of my head.
“You okay?” I hear and look up.
When I do, I have to squint. Blinded, I can’t see his face so I bring my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun.
The man with the voice is standing across my dilapidated fence, looking down at me. I still can’t see his face, but his body’s covered in a sheen of sweat. He’s wearing an old wife-beater and a pair of cargo shorts with running shoes. The tank is plastered to his tanned skin, covering muscles so distinct, every swell of his chest and abs is visible through the dirty, sweaty material.
“Need a hand?” he asks and starts to move my way, easily stepping over my broken fence.
He’s tall and muscular, so when he moves his body blocks the sun, letting my eyes travel to his face. He’s scruffy, to the point I wonder if he’s starting to grow a beard. I bet he hasn’t shaved in over a week, but underneath the scruff are facial features so rough and masculine, I let my eyes widen to take all of him in.
Standing over me, he extends his long sinewy arm, offering me a big callused hand. “Help up?”
“Uh, sure.” I brush gravel and grass off my hands before putting my left in his right.
His big warm hand envelops mine, he gives me a yank and I’m instantly pulled to my feet. Steadying myself and looking up, I’m face to face with the sweaty stranger standing on my land.
His dark brown hair is sticking to him, falling onto his forehead where perspiration’s dripping down his temples. I let my eyes travel to his lips. They’re full, but frowning. This makes me yank my hand out of his and retreat quickly, pulling myself out of my surprised haze.
“Who are you?” I clip, putting space between us.
He tips his head ever so slightly, narrowing his deep brown eyes, matching the dark themed package he’s got going on. They might be dark but what they are is sharp. In fact, now that I’ve stepped away to take him in all at once, I realize everything about him is razor sharp. His eyes, his expression, even how he holds his body. As much as he’s sweating, he’s not breathing hard as if he was working out. His breathing is relaxed, like he was lounging on the sofa. He appears to be a bevy of contradictions—aloof yet alert, tense yet relaxed, detached yet discerning. Everything about him is simple, but still, he’s exceptionally complex.
I’m jerked out of my contemplation when his full lips form the words, “Your neighbor.”
Oh, thank goodness. I let out a breath of relief. I don’t care if he is tall, dark, and gorgeous, he’s a tad scary looking. Plus, I feel like he snuck up on me. I’m glad to know he’s my neighbor and not a creepy trespasser.
The tension leaves my body. “Sorry, you startled me. I didn’t even hear you. You bought Mr. McCray’s farm?”
Without taking his eyes off me, he simply answers, “Yeah.”
“Okay, now I feel bad,” I exclaim. “I knew it sold. Mr. McCray used to come over often. We even had a little going away thing for him in the tasting room. I knew he moved to be closer to his daughter, but I didn’t know the new owner was in yet. Mr. McCray said the buyer would be doing some modifications before officially taking possession. I should’ve come over to introduce myself.”
