Beau's Beloved (Wicked Winemakers Second Label Book 1), page 3
“Beau…” she whined.
“Samantha,” I responded with the same tone. “Come on. When’s the last time you took a holiday?” I already knew she never had. “This will be fun. We’ll drive to this place, err, Aurora, see what kind of digs Cena Covert handed down to you, then return to California before Stave reopens.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
I sighed. “Give me one good reason why not.”
“Wanda.”
I shook my head. “Already taken care of.”
“You hired someone to take care of my cat? This is going too far, Beau. Even for you—”
“I did not hire anyone. She’s coming with us. I’ve arranged for everything she’ll need.”
It was evident she was trying to manufacture another excuse. Finally, she shook her head. “I can’t.”
“If you wait, you’ll have to take off from work. This is the perfect time to do this. And, I’ll remind you, there is a significant amount of money involved, Sam. It would be irresponsible to walk away from that alone.”
“What if it isn’t real?”
“Then, you and I will have enjoyed a cross-country road trip. The time away will do both of us good.”
“Where will we stay?”
I steeled myself from smiling. Sam was about to give in. “I figured we could wing it.”
“I don’t know…”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “There is every reason to do this now rather than wait.”
“You’re sure Wanda can come?”
I smiled. “Of course. Who would say otherwise?”
“Can we leave tomorrow?”
“Not a good idea.”
She folded her arms again. “Why not?”
“Because ‘winging’ it doesn’t mean ‘wait until tomorrow.’” Besides, if I agreed, there was a very good chance she’d change her mind.
“Wait. How are we going to take Wanda? Your car barely fits me.”
“Come see.” I led her to the front door and out to the second-floor landing, where we could see the SUV we’d be driving to New York, the only vehicle in the parking lot.
Her eyes scrunched again. “Whose car is that?”
“I took delivery of it recently.” While the statement I’d said was true, if pressed, I wouldn’t be above a white lie or two if necessary. “As you can see, it’s plenty large enough for you, Wanda, and me.”
“It’s almost too big. Won’t it cost a fortune to drive it all that way?”
“One, it’s electric. Actually, a hybrid. Two, I’ll worry about the expenses until your inheritance is finalized, at which time you can pay me back.” It was one of those white lies I wasn’t above telling. I’d never allow Sam to reimburse a single cent. Regardless of the estate’s value, my net worth was easily a thousand times greater.
I hit the button on the key fob, and the rear hatch opened. I’d parked in such a way that she could see inside.
“What’s all that?”
“I call it Wanda’s car condo. While it’s technically an SUV, I prefer the alliteration.” There was a bed large enough for three Wandas, several toys, a mat with raised edges for things like food and water, and a place for her to do her business if necessary. While the cat would be able to see us and we could see her, there was a mesh divider that kept her contained in her area.
Sam laughed, and it was music to my ears.
“You remind me of my mum,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. “Your laugh is nearly identical.”
“Beau—”
I leaned closer and kissed her temple. “Pack so we can get on the road.”
“There’s something I need to say first.”
I tensed, hoping she wasn’t about to say she’d changed her mind. “Go on.”
“Thank you for doing this.”
I glowed from somewhere inside. While Sam had always been appreciative of the things I did for her, with the exception of the misstep with the house, this time it felt different. More heartfelt. “You’re welcome,” I murmured.
An hour later, we were on the road. In order to get to New York and return in time for Sam to be at Stave when it reopened, we had to travel at least five hundred miles each day, if not farther. While Las Vegas wasn’t quite that distance from Cambria, it was the only place along the way where it made sense to stop. With minimal breaks, we could easily reach the Strip before nine o’clock.
I’d lowered the second-row seat so Sam could check on Wanda, who surprisingly, seemed very content. The only things in the cat’s way were our bags, both of which were smaller than the combined feline accouterments I’d secured.
“She rarely rides in the car,” said Sam, who looked behind her no less than once every ten minutes. “Usually, she pitches a fit as soon as I put her in the carrier.”
After being forewarned by the woman at the pet store about cats’ typical response to travel, I’d gone with her suggestion and purchased a collapsible tote to safely transport Wanda to and from the vehicle.
“You’re a good cat dad,” said Sam, winking.
I smiled and nodded. “Wanda and I came to an agreement quite some time ago. She’s accepted that I care about you as much as she does but am better able to provide niceties for you both—given you rarely let her out of the apartment.”
Sam laughed, again reminding me of my mum. While most reminders of her resulted in a stab of pain that felt much like a knife, Sam’s laughter was different. It wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I was filled with a sense of peace.
“I’m jealous.”
“Of?” I asked, glancing over at her.
“Wanda has never responded to any of the thousands of questions I’ve asked her.”
“Well, then, perhaps we can get her to talk to both of us on this trip.”
Sam turned her head away. “Pathetic that, a lot of the time, she’s the only one I have to talk to.”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. “From what I recall, that was by design after your last roommate was arrested for drug smuggling.”
“I’d forgotten all about that since I wasn’t there when the sheriff showed up. But, God, it was pretty bad. Thankfully, the rest of us who lived in the house weren’t arrested too.”
“Vader knows better. Particularly with you.”
“Vader. It cracks me up that you all call him that.”
I looked at her with wide eyes. “Have you not had the pleasure of speaking to him on the phone? He sounds exactly like the character.” I mimicked Vader’s breathing.
“This car, err, SUV, is amazing,” Sam said after remaining quiet for several minutes. She ran her hands over the seat’s leather. “I love the color. It seems like you only see either white or black cars in California. It’s a refreshing change.”
Knowing she’d like it, I’d chosen the British racing green exterior, referred to as hunter green by the salesman. I caught myself rolling my eyes, much like Sam did so often when he’d said it. The inside was a rich cognac. I would’ve preferred oyster if not for two things. First, the automobile maker didn’t offer it. Second, this car wasn’t for me; it was for Sam. I hadn’t quite decided when I would inform her, knowing once I did, an argument would ensue.
I had several rationales lined up for the reveal when it did take place. The main reason was her car was front-wheel drive. She’d never be able to drive it in the snow, if the thing even made it out of the State of California.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“The vehicle. Why do you ask?”
“Your facial expressions make it look like you’re arguing with yourself.”
“Not at all.” I chuckled, reminding myself I needed to pay closer attention to how well I schooled my reactions around this woman.
“Would you like to know where I think we should stop for the night?” I asked once we were halfway to my intended destination.
“No. I’m good with winging it. As long as—never mind.”
“What were you going to say?”
“As long as it isn’t Las Vegas, but there isn’t much else on this road otherwise.”
I shook my head. “We are definitely not staying in Vegas.” At least not any longer.
5
SAM
Beau was lying about something. Maybe more than one thing. It was easy to tell; his right eye twitched. It was barely perceptible, but I’d known him a long time and had learned to look for it when I thought he was fibbing. I wouldn’t confront him about it now, though.
What he’d arranged for this trip, especially everything he got for Wanda, was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.
“How did you know the wine bar was closed?”
His cheeks pinkened. “Website.”
That made sense. With everyone wondering where he was, I doubted he would’ve called either of the owners, particularly since they were in his circle of friends.
“Do you think your dad has told everyone not to worry?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“But he knows where you are?”
Beau shook his head. “He knows I’m taking the time away I need. He knows he can call whenever he’d like but, otherwise, not to expect to hear from me any more often than was the case, um, before.”
I nodded. “How often was that?”
“There was no pattern. Both he and my mum called when they felt the need to. Or missed me.”
I reached over and squeezed his hand like he’d done with me. “I’m sorry, Beau.”
“Don’t be. I cannot envision a trip more ideal than the one we’re on.”
“You know which trip wasn’t?”
He cocked his head. “There are so many trips to choose from.”
I smacked his arm. “When you came to get me after my car broke down a half hour outside of Fresno.”
“Ah, yes, in the lovely hamlet of La Rosa.”
I nodded. “It was scary. Thank God you got there when you did.”
“I didn’t feel any safer.”
I studied him.
“What?” he asked.
“You didn’t let on you were afraid. Not even a little.”
“That wouldn’t have done, now, would it?”
“At times, you’re a better man than you let on to be.”
I grimaced. “Only at times?”
“You work overtime to hide it.”
He was thoughtful before he spoke. “I once overheard one of the vineyard workers say Press was the good son.”
“Ouch,” I commented.
“He went on to say it was too bad I wasn’t more like him. Even before I overheard that conversation, I’d always done my level best to be as least like Press as I could.”
“How old were you?”
He chuckled. “Seventeen, and even I have to admit I was a hellion.”
I didn’t recall all that much about Beau’s reputation back then, but I did remember he’d always been nice to me. “You taught me to drive.”
This time he laughed—hard.
“What?” I asked.
“You were dreadful at it. I did many dangerous things as a teenager. None more so than that.”
“Teaching me to drive was the most dangerous thing you did?”
He nodded. “And that includes motocross racing, skydiving, and bungee jumping.”
“I wasn’t that bad.”
He raised a brow.
“Maybe in the beginning.”
He shook his head.
“You’re mean.”
Beau laughed out loud. “What I am is hungry.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I am too.”
“Why don’t you see if there’s a place to eat coming up anytime soon?”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“I have to find my phone. I hope I brought it.”
“You aren’t certain if you brought your phone? I cannot believe that.”
“Why not? It’s not like anyone ever calls me. Outside of work, that is.” I checked my pockets, then my purse, then it rang, startling me. “It must’ve fallen under the seat.” I unfastened the belt and looked. Sure enough, that’s where it was. I picked it up and swiped the screen. “You called me.”
He nodded. “To help you locate it; however, that wasn’t the only reason.”
“Why else?”
“To remind you that someone does call you. Frequently.”
“You don’t count.”
“Wrong again. I count more than anyone else.”
I studied my phone, searching for a place to eat. There weren’t many. Also apparent was the lack of places to stop for the night besides Vegas. Before and after were just smaller versions of it.
“So, um, before, I said I didn’t mind winging it, but where are we stopping for the night?”
Beau glanced over at me. “You’re onto me, aren’t you?”
“If you mean our options are limited, then yes.”
“I’ll confess I was planning to stay in Sin City overnight.”
I laughed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Beau shook his head. “No, it’s good you did.”
“We can stay in Las Vegas.”
Beau reached over and took my hand in his. “I want you to be happy, Samantha.”
I wiggled out of his grasp and looked out the passenger window. “Why, Beau?”
“Seems obvious.”
But it wasn’t. I couldn’t recall a single time Beau had said those words to me. I turned to look at him. “I’m okay, you know. I mean there are a lot worse problems than maybe inheriting a house and, um, other stuff. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I’m not.”
I laughed again. “Now, you sound more like the Beau I know.”
He put the hand that had held mine on his heart. “Ouch.”
“Come on, stop this.”
The grin on his face was replaced with a frown. “Stop what?”
“This isn’t how we are. We’re more like siblings who fight a lot, but deep down, we care about each other. Don’t get all ‘I want you to be happy’ on me.” I waited for him to respond, and when he didn’t, I rested my hand on his arm. “Beau?”
“Since my mum…” He shook his head, then donned a smile that looked as fake as I’d ever seen. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it will pass. So, Vegas? Any requests?”
“Food.”
“Right. We’ve lost sight of finding somewhere to stop on the way. We might as well wait at this point.”
I was starving, but he was right. Vegas food, regardless of where we went, would be better than anything we got along the way—or at least that’s what I’d heard. “We need to find a place that will allow Wanda to stay in the room. Oh, and not too expensive. I’m not the heiress you think I’ll be yet.”
“I don’t know why you insist on bringing up money. You know how I feel about it,” he snapped.
My eyes opened wide, and I struggled with what to say in response. After a few seconds, Beau laughed.
“Siblings who fight a lot. That’s what you said, did you not? Just bringing things back into your comfort zone.”
Who cared about each other. I’d said that too. Except, I loved Beau. I could never tell him, though. He’d take it the wrong way and assume I was after him to whisk me away from a life I didn’t like and make me his bride, like every other woman on the face of the earth who’d ever met him. I definitely didn’t love him that way. As I’d said, we were like siblings. Right?
“God, I’d love to know what you’re thinking right now.”
I shook my head. “No. You don’t.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said later when he pulled into one of the swankiest hotels on the Strip.
“Why not?”
“Wanda? My bank account?”
“Welcome back, Mr. Barrett,” the valet who opened his door said. The one who opened mine just offered his hand to help me get out.
“Thank you, my good man,” Beau responded, shaking his hand. “We’ve precious cargo in the back, so if you’ll be so kind as to let me secure her first, I’d appreciate it.”
I stood by the rear of the SUV, waiting for either valet to react to the species of our “precious cargo,” but neither did other than to ask if Beau wanted everything delivered to the room. Which he said he did.
Over the years, I’d witnessed the excesses of his life, but none to this extent. “How often do you come here?” I asked once we’d walked past the lobby and directly into the elevator.
He was studying something on his phone but glanced at me. “Rarely.” He scowled when I rolled my eyes.
“Yet they know your name?”
“Well, that’s more a matter of ownership.”
My eyes opened wide. “You own this hotel?”
“Not entirely.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to know what that meant. Until I ate, I couldn’t think about anything other than how hungry I was. Maybe that’s why Beau consumed so much in one sitting. That way, he didn’t have to eat again for several hours.
“I’m getting hangry,” I grumbled as much to Wanda, who I knelt down to let out of the soft-sided carrier Beau had put her in, as to myself.
“I’ve taken care of it,” he mumbled, still looking at his phone when the elevator came to a stop.
“Is everything okay?”
Beau raised his head. “Yes. Fine. It’s just, um, some side work I’ve been doing.”
The door opened, and instead of a hallway in front of us, there was a living room. “What is this?” I asked.
“The penthouse.” He pointed to a table that hadn’t been visible until we walked farther inside. “There is your food.”
“My food?” I gasped.
Shaking his head, he said, “Ours.”
“Since you’re distracted, I’ll eat, then crash. Which bedroom is mine?”
His eyes opened wide. “Bloody hell. They put us in the wrong suite.”
“What does that mean?”
Beau pulled his phone out and walked several steps away. “Right. Many thanks.” I heard him say before setting the phone down. “Sorry, the Sultan of Brunei booked the rest of the suites some time ago. The concierge said he ‘finagled’ this one for me.” He shook his head again. “Finagled? Such a strange word.”
