Chaos Among The Vines, page 16
“Hey!” She reached toward his hand, but he shoved it overhead. “Will, give it back.”
“No.” He pulled his arm free of her fist. “You can’t relax if you’re wearing a constant reminder of your obligations, and the ticking clock of your rigorous schedule.” He jerked his arm back, then whipped it forward, prepared to hurl the offensive tech piece into the pond.
“No-oo!” Ava’s eyes went wide and she whirled around, watching for where the timepiece landed.
At the last second, Will didn’t unclench his fingers. So the splash never came.
Ava spun toward him, anger dominant in her frosty gaze. “You’re being a dick. That’s an expensive watch. I don’t have the money to replace it.”
He opened his hand, let the leather strap dangle from his fingertips, and thought about how he’d badly he wanted to have his dick in her. But he’d probably just ruined any chance of that.
Her eyes snapped to the watch and she stretched to grab it, her breasts rubbing along his pecs. Damn, it felt good. He extended his elbow, hoisting the prize higher above his head. He wound his other arm around her waist and tugged her against him.
Closing the distance between them, he captured her mouth in a brutal, needy kiss. The hunger in his body translated to his deeply probing tongue. When she slid her arms up his back and returned the kiss, his eyes rolled back in his head for a look at his brain. Watch still clenched in his fist, he draped his arm around her shoulder, angled his head and bent her backward. Fishing completely forgotten, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, nibbled her lips, dug his fingers into her curvy ass. The thin inch between their bodies crackled with energy and electric desire.
He shoved his hand into her waistband and speared south, the silky skin of her buttocks warm under his fingers. Supple muscles bunched and moved as she pressed closer.
She dropped one hand from his back and trailed her fingers along his arm, their touch a branding fire. Her luscious tits smashed to his chest as she arched back.
Gripping his wrist, Ava drew his hand forward, around her front, up her ribs, aiming for a sweet, apple shaped mound. As he pressed his palm around one plump breast, her lips curved into a smile.
Then she divested him of the watch.
Will squeezed his fingers, but lost his grip when she shoved his shoulders and stepped from his arms.
Her smile grew triumphant as she retreated farther, strapping the fucking watch to her wrist again. His breath came in hard pants, the ache in his groin hard and heavy.
“I agreed to taking time this afternoon to relax, but your dirty trick has destroyed the calm I was finally feeling.” Avalon was back, in control and wound tighter than he’d ever seen her.
“If I promise to not steal that fucking thing, will you kiss me again?” What he really wanted to ask was if she’d let him take her to the ground on the picnic blanket and then take her to heaven in the sunlight shifting through the trees.
She dropped her gaze to his mouth, and her tongue snuck out to make a slow, lazy circuit around her lips. The hot blue of her eyes was an intoxicating sight. Suppressing a groan, Will flexed and clenched his fingers. “Ava?”
One of her feet shuffled forward, then another as she stepped toward him. He commanded his legs to move, to meet her halfway.
One pace away, the watch chirped. Avalon jolted to a stop with a pained look on her face. This was the closest he’d seen her to being frustrated by her own device. The fucking thing chirped a third time.
“Ava, no.” Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. Don’t interrupt the passionate flow escalating between us.
Shaking her head, with an apologetic plea in her eyes, she raised her arm.
Cockblocked by a damn piece of technology.
“It’s a text from Guin.” A frown threaded her brows together as she read the display. “Oh no! Meg showed up at the office. She’s there now.”
Avalon had helped Will gather up the picnic supplies in under a minute. They were in his Suburban racing back toward the vineyard a minute after that. Every single muscle loosened by their insanely hot kiss had knotted back up when he’d stolen her watch. Now all those muscles and more than a few nerve endings hummed tautly, painfully under her skin. His tension was contagious. She clutched her fists together in her lap, her white knuckles matching his around the steering wheel.
Gone was the seriously sexy beast who’d teased her, kissed her, and made her lose control. In his place was a scary, determined man on a mission.
Forcing her fingers to unclench, she dug in her pocket for the elastic she’d retrieved while throwing crap back in the picnic basket. She scraped hair back from her temple and pulled it into a tight ponytail. She’d kill for a couple of bobby pins to secure it in her cool-as-ice chignon.
The door handle pressed hard into her ribs as he sped through a turn into the parking lot. He careened to a stop next to a Corvette that looked to be glued together with Bondo and duct tape. The mirror on the driver’s side door drooped, held in place only by a thin cable.
Will jolted from the car and pounded up the steps. Following on his heels, Avalon stumbled into the office in time to hear his cold, scathing tone.
“You have a lot of nerve, showing up here. You have ten seconds to get your ass off my property, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
Visible tremors wracked Will’s body. His chest heaved, his cheeks bright red. Hands, balled into fists, were propped on his hips.
A short woman—had to be Meg—with thin, iron gray curls stood next to Guin’s desk. Chunky, lace-up biker boots hit her mid-shin. Her ratty, skin-tight jeans were frayed at the knees. A black denim jacket covered a frilly cream peasant blouse with a brown stain down the front. A hard, cold expression gripped the woman’s face, making her look haggard. Or maybe the effect was due to time spent in county lockup.
Sitting bolt upright in the office chair, Mom had her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes squinted at Meg.
Avalon stroked a hand up Will’s spine. In response, he leaned into her soft touch. He spared a glance at her, and his eyes warmed for an instant, before they skewed straight back to a hard glint and he cut them back toward Meg. He didn’t relax. Not a single iota.
“I had personal property in the desk. I came to claim my stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair.” Meg’s voice held the coarse, raspy quality of a lifelong smoker. Avalon registered the sharp odor of tobacco smoke wafting across the room.
She resisted the urge to wave a hand in front of her face. “Guin, you cleared out the desk, didn’t you? Where did you leave the stuff?”
Guin unfolded her arms and jabbed a finger toward a cardboard box in the corner. “Most of it is there.” She darted a look at the back of Meg’s head, then to Will. “Anything with a Rolling logo on it, or pertaining to vineyard business, I locked in the file cabinet. That included a credit card I found taped to the bottom of the desk. I figured if it was hidden there, chances were good Will hadn’t applied for it. Therefore, said card could be evidence.”
Meg cranked her head toward the stack of five-drawer cabinets on the far side of the office. “Everything in those files is mine.” She took a step toward the locked drawers.
Will cut her off with a hand to her upper arm. “Nope. Like Guin said, anything with a logo on it, or implemented in the name of the vineyard, is my property.”
Avalon shivered at Will’s icy tone.
Meg wrestled her arm from his grasp and took a hasty step backward. She bumped into Avalon, who locked her knees and didn’t budge. Meg bounced off her and back toward Will, like a ball of rubber bands.
Mom hadn’t mentioned a finding a credit card. “Is the card Will’s?” Avalon’s gaze flicked between all the faces in the room.
Meg’s look was the most arresting; part angry, part fearful. Will on the other hand, had a storm cloud on his face, eyes squinted, lips curled in a sneer, like he’d just tasted wine gone to vinegar.
“Doubt it.” Guin shot a baleful glance at Meg. “It was registered to a company that Will had flagged in the payables file.”
“PSGM Enterprises?” Will asked through gritted teeth.
“Uh-huh.” Guin retrieved the file from a rack on the corner of her desk and dug out a sheet of paper, handing it to Will.
“Get out.” Undeniable command hardened Will’s voice. He stomped to the box and hoisted it high. He jammed the carton against Meg’s chest, forcing her to take possession of it. “If I see you near Rolling again, you can bet your ass I’ll be calling the cops.”
“You’re a bastard, you know that?” This from the woman who’d robbed her employer. Avalon had seen the payroll records. Meg had been well compensated, and judging by the state of the files Guin had complained about, she hadn’t been terribly efficient at her job.
Meg skulked toward the exit. “Working for your dad, as hopeless as he is, was a way better gig.”
“Was that because he was easier to steal from?”
Garish red crested Meg’s cheeks. “Asshat!” She stuck out one booted foot and kicked the door, leaving a tread-patterned scuff on the wood.
Avalon and Will followed her outside. Gripping Will’s bicep, skimming her other hand over his forearm, she watched Meg storm to her car and stash the box in the trunk. With a final glare at the porch, Meg climbed into the beat-up Corvette and slammed the door.
The side view mirror shuddered and clunked in reaction.
“Oh, heavens, that exit would have been more dramatic if Meg hadn’t needed to roll down her window to fix the mirror.” Avalon chuckled.
Will bumped her with his hip. “It did lose a little oomph, didn’t it?”
Meg shot both middle fingers at them, then for good measure gave them a nasty chin-flick. One final double-bird, and she reversed quickly out of the spot, narrowly missed a fence post, and bounced over a good sized log that marked the edge of the lot. Gravel spat from beneath her tires as she peeled out of the lot, black exhaust belching from a tailpipe carelessly rigged to the bumper with thin baling wire.
Slinging his arm around her shoulders, Will led Avalon back into the office. “Guin, let’s see that credit card. I think a call to Drake and the sheriff might be in order.” He grimaced. “And I’d better call my dad as well.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“That bitch’s timing is horrible,” Will groused.
Mumbling about checking her email, Ava escaped the office and dashed up to the house, where she’d no doubt transform back into the well-organized machine he’d first met. Damn, he’d been so close. His balls still ached, pounding in time with his brain as he pored over the items Guin had confiscated from Meg’s box o’ trouble.
Guin dropped the phone back to its cradle. “Yeah, it’s like she wasn’t satisfied stealing money from you, she had to steal your peace of mind as well. Sheriff’s on his way.”
“Did you try Drake?”
“Left a message.”
“Thanks.” Will looked away from the legal documents and the illegal credit card scattered on his desk.
“Uh, Will . . . ” The note of concern in Guin’s voice made him jerk his head up.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“After you left, I checked inventory on bottles.” Her hesitant words confirmed his fear that the hits were going to keep on rolling.
“Just spit it out.” He slouched low in his chair, bracing his shoulders against the high back and planting his feet firmly on the floor.
“According to the records, Meg was supposed to order new stock.”
“I approved the expense a couple weeks ago. Right before you and Ava . . .” Oh, fuck. He remembered sucking his breath in through his clenched teeth as he signed the requisition. The bottom line expense, outside of his down payment on the vineyard, was possibly the highest bill he’d ever incurred. Bottles weren’t cheap. “She never placed the order, did she?”
“Doesn’t look like it. The supply should have arrived a week ago.” Guin rose from her seat and paced behind her desk. “I called to verify when to expect the shipment. According to them, they provided an estimate, and faxed a bill for a signature, but never received confirmation that we wanted the product.”
He hunched over the desk and dropped his head into his hands. “I signed the check.”
“And she probably deposited the funds directly into the Meg’s-a-shitty-thief account she had set up on the side.”
Anger snaked through him. Ava was right. He was way too disorganized to run a business. Now, he was sitting on vats of highly valuable wine and had nothing to dispense it in. I’m a fucking idiot. “How fast can we get shipment?” In order to pay for the extra shipment he’d have to tap funds he’d reserved to buy Dad’s land.
Will stared out the window, the glare of the lowering sun spearing against his eyeballs. The bright future he’d looked toward this morning, great business and a great woman at his side, looked dimmer right now.
“Don’t know. Want me to check?” Guin reached for the phone.
“My fault, I’ll call. Can you try Drake again? I need him out here as soon as possible. If you can’t find him, check with Penny. Maybe she knows where he is.” He tossed her the flip phone. She looked at it as if it were an antique, which in the world of technology, it probably was.
Pressing the hands-free button on his desk phone, Will dialed the bottle supplier’s number from memory. “Could you also place a call to my dad? Might as well let him kick me while I’m down.”
Will had been in a shit mood and hadn’t joined them for dinner. Avalon had been surprised to learn he was still at his desk after the sun had set. It was unlike him. But then Guin confided over their chicken stir-fry dinner the extent of Meg’s villainy and ineptitude. The lack of bottles could very well result in the vineyard missing the window to ship the huge order. According to Guin, Will’s negotiating skills, while admirable, hadn’t gotten him anywhere. The supplier was adamant about charging a twenty percent expediting fee, despite the circumstances.
Then Guin changed the topic to fashion and a new dress she’d ordered.
After dinner, Avalon had stepped out onto the front patio facing the office. Fluorescent lights burned in the twilight, illuminating Will as he sat at the desk, talking on the phone. She started down the path to the other building, but halted when a truck pulled into the lot and parked. A man hopped out of the vehicle and strode into the office.
In the distance, she saw Will glance up as the slamming door echoed back toward her. He tossed down the pen he’d been tapping on the arm of his chair. Slouched further in his chair as the other man plopped into Guin’s chair. Even at this distance, Avalon registered the tension on Will’s face, and the anger on the other man’s. By the nearly identical look of the men, and the apparent difference in age, Will’s dad, Jared Bradford, had come to make Will’s evening a whole lot worse.
She stepped back into the house, climbed the stairs to her room, and shut herself in. She couldn’t intrude on family business. Especially business that was messy and as far from streamlined as possible.
Avalon stood at the window in her bedroom, staring out into the dark. From downstairs, the sounds of Chuck Mangione’s flugelhorn played out his unique style. Her mother used to listen to his music in the station wagon whenever she’d had a good day, usually ignoring Avalon’s warning they needed to conserve the batteries for things like . . . oh, say, being able to motor somewhere. Or running the heater on the coldest nights. At least Mom was in a good mood.
In contrast, Avalon couldn’t pin a label on what she felt. She leaned her head against the cool windowpane and did what she did best. She inventoried and categorized her emotions.
Ignoring the one uppermost in her mind, she started with determination. She was going to get Will and Rolling in the Clover organized and streamlined. And help him fill that large order. That was her job, her obligation. The task seemed a little less uphill this week than it had last week. Will had gradually accepted her workflow suggestions. He needed to if he was serious about buying extra ground. So, noticeable pride in him mingled with her determination. It was an exotic combination. She allowed herself thirty seconds to bask in the glow of her success.
Next, she explored the uneasiness Guin’s good mood had wrought. The woman had whistled while she boogied around the table to set out three plates. As Avalon stir-fried chicken and veggies in the wok, Guin had kept humming. And actually sang, even though Will hadn’t shown up for the meal. Suspicion started a slow, pernicious climb through Avalon’s brain over her mother’s manic behavior. And bringing with it worry about Bad-Ass. She drew tight circles on her temple, like the motion could wipe out the picture of the scary enforcer.
Next on her list to explore was disappointment. She’d begun to look forward to sitting down with Will at the end of the day to discuss business, or hear his stories about life in Cloverdale. Hell, he could digress on the price of tea in China and she’d probably find it fascinating.
She’d missed his presence tonight and that brought confusion. Made her think of things she didn’t want to consider. Like, maybe he’d become more important than was healthy for her.
Which led to an exploration of the one emotion she’d be ignored by cataloging all her other emotions. Her feelings about Will.
Good heavens, just thinking his name while scratching the surface of her yearning for him made tingles jump to life in her tummy.
She moved to the bed and stretched out, staring at the ceiling. Not likely she’d find any kind of answer there. Her attraction to him felt as out of control as a flash flood in a champagne factory. Effervescent, bubbling, and downright intoxicating. His drugging kisses, his strong and steady caresses. Heat flared into her cheeks as she let her eyelids drift shut and replayed each kiss, each grip of his arms and press of his chest. Will had a skilled mouth, and he wasn’t hesitant about sharing it with her.
She was so far gone when he’d stripped off her watch, and threatened to pitch it into the pond, she’d almost grabbed it from him to do the deed herself. Avalon covered her face with her hands.
