Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Owen
has to
go.
There was already a crowd assembled, wanting to be entertained for the night. Why not make it a murder mystery? Everyone could
take turns guessing who killed the redhead for continuously putting his hand on Hallie’s arm. They’d eventually figure out
it was Julian, or would perhaps take one look at his face and know straight off the bat.
God, he did not like the way they were laughing together. The way they sort of matched each other step for step, two very
alike people on the same mission. Tame the maniacs who were currently blowing like miniature cyclones through the event, chocolate
and sprinkles smeared across their chins and cheeks. The people sipping wine in front of the Vos table were complaining about
the shoddy childcare—and he liked that criticism of Hallie even less than the sight of Owen staring at her curls as if eternally
fascinated by their shape.
Actually, scratch that. He didn’t like it less.
He simply liked none of this. Whatsoever.
Having her so close, looking so fucking beautiful, and feeling
as if he wasn’t allowed to speak with her. Had their last encounter been so bad that they weren’t even on speaking terms anymore?
Her halting laugh reached Julian, and a tug started behind his collar. He’d missed that laugh. Had it really only been two
days? Was he just supposed to never hear it again, even if embarking on any sort of relationship together would end in disaster?
No. That didn’t work for him.
Julian didn’t realize he was walking toward the emcee booth in the corner of the tent until he arrived there and held out
his hand. “May I borrow the microphone for a moment?”
The emcee juggled the mike, clearly caught off guard by Julian’s abrupt approach. He was thrown off, as well. What the hell
was he doing?
Joining the fray. Just because she’s there.
Refusing to question that disconcerting certainty, Julian raised the microphone to his mouth. “If I might have your attention,
please?” He couldn’t see anything but Hallie’s blond head popping up from the floor, where she’d been trying to coax a crying
child out from under a table—with
more sugar
, for the love of God. “I’m beginning children’s story time now out on the lawn.” He checked his watch automatically to register
the time. “Please send them outside now. Pick them up at eight oh five. Thank you.”
“Are we sure CBD doesn’t get people at least buzzed?” Natalie asked as he passed. “I could have sworn you just said you were
conducting a children’s story time.”
A bead of sweat trickled down his spine. “I did say that.”
“Why?” she said, visibly astonished.
Julian started to brush off the question or give an unsatisfactory answer, such as, “I don’t know,” but he didn’t want to take a
step backward with Natalie. They’d formed a tenuous bond tonight. If he’d learned anything in that brief window of time, it was that having a relationship with his sister meant sharing potentially embarrassing things with her. “It’s because of a woman.”
Natalie’s mouth dropped open. “
Another
woman?”
Jesus, when she said it like that, it sounded awful. “Well, yes. But . . .”
There was simply no way to explain that he’d cast the net of his interest in Hallie so far and wide that it had swallowed
up his secret admirer. He’d wished them to be one and the same. Now they were inseparable entities.
“I don’t get it.” His sister sounded almost dazed. “You barely leave the house and there are two women on deck.”
Julian scoffed. “That is hardly the case.” She waited, saying nothing. More sweat slid down his spine. “It’s complicated with
Hallie. We aren’t seeing each other. Nothing can come of it and we’re agreed on the matter.” Damn. Saying
that
out loud felt far worse than his sister’s claim about him juggling two women. “It’s just that when she’s in trouble or experiencing
any kind of distress, I feel somewhat . . . upset about it.”
Natalie stared.
“That is to say, I feel as if I’m going to explode if the situation isn’t fixed for her. When she isn’t smiling, the world
becomes a terrible place.”
Several seconds passed. “Do you think what you’re saying is normal?”
“Forget it,” Julian growled. “Please continue to pass out the damn business cards for Corked. I’ll be back in a while.”
He strode out of the tent while unfastening his cuff links and tucking them into his pants pocket in order to roll up his sleeves.
It seemed like a best practice when dealing with kids. Wouldn’t want to appear intimidating.
Brisk mountain air dried the layer of perspiration on Julian’s forehead as he walked out of the tent. He stopped short when
he found Hallie hustling a dozen youngsters into a half circle on the lawn—while Owen watched, his devotion to her clearer
than a freshly washed windowpane. The other man turned at his approach, cautiously sizing him up.
Julian’s sleeve-rolling movements became increasingly hasty. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Owen said back, taking a quick sip from his wineglass. “I’m Owen Stark.”
Julian held out his hand. They shook. Quite firmly. He’d never really considered his height an advantage until the other man
had to crane his neck slightly. “Julian Vos.”
“Yes, I know.” The redhead’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
State your intentions toward her,
motherfucker
.
“How do you know Hallie?”
Was it his imagination or did the bastard look a little smug? Yes, he was definitely the kind of man who would make a perfect
guest of honor at a murder mystery. “We own competing gardening businesses in St. Helena.” Of course, Julian had already known
the answer to that. Apparently, he just wanted to torture himself by hearing this man speak with familiarity about the woman
who occupied his every thought these days. “Someday, I’m hoping to convince her to join forces.”
Now that was news. Or was it?
Owen’s emphasis on
join forces
made it sound as if he meant something else—not business related. As in, a personal relation
ship with Hallie. Marriage, even. How close
were
they, exactly? And truly, what business was it of Julian’s, when she appeared to want nothing to do with him anymore? He
didn’t know. But the gravelly grind in his chest was so unpleasant, it took him a moment to speak. “Maybe she doesn’t want
to be convinced or it would have happened by now.”
“Maybe she needs to know a man is willing to play the long game.”
I guess I’m going to kill him.
Julian stepped closer. “Oh, is it a game to you?”
Hallie slid in between Julian and Owen, splitting a startled glance between them that quickly turned nonplussed. “Oh dear.”
Her hip brushed Julian’s groin, and he had the most pressing urge to drag her up against him like a fucking caveman. “M-maybe
we can continue this later? When we aren’t under threat of mutiny?”
“That works for me,” Owen said with a big, dumb smile, saluting with his wine.
“Absolutely,” Julian agreed, keeping his eye on the other man as he went to the front of the semicircle. And then all he could
do was stand there and absorb the absolute disarray that lay at his feet. Several children were sprawled out on the grass,
coming down from their sugar highs with glazed eyes and twitching limbs. Sprinkles were trapped beneath fingernails and plastered
to the corners of mouths. One of them was actually licking the grass, another trying to balance a small Nike sneaker on his
head. Two girls fought over an iPad with twin expressions of violence. “Well, aren’t you all just a mess? Your parents will
have to hose you down before putting you in the car tonight.”
A dozen pairs of eyes snapped in his direction, some of them startled.
Including Hallie’s.
Maybe his greeting had been a little harsh—
One of the children—a girl—giggled. And then they
all
started to giggle.
“Our moms aren’t going to spray us with a hose,” she shouted, unnecessarily.
“Why not? You’re all disgusting.”
More laughing. One of them even pitched sideways onto the lawn. Was he doing all right at this? He’d spent exactly zero time
around kids this young, but his college students definitely never laughed at him. They could barely be bothered to crack a
smile. Not that he ever joked during a lecture. Time was a serious matter. Somehow he didn’t think these kids would appreciate
a talk on the impact of capitalism on the value of time.
“Why don’t we talk about time travel?”
“I thought you were going to read us a story.”
Julian pointed a finger at the interjector. “Disgusting
and
impatient. I’m getting to the story. But first I want to hear where you would go on a time-traveling mission.”
“Japan!”
He nodded. “Japan now? Or a hundred years ago? If you hopped in your time-traveling machine and arrived in Japan in the year
1923, you might land in the middle of the great earthquake.” They blinked up at him. “You see, all the events of the past
are still . . . active. They remain in order of occurrence, existing in a linear path, beginning at a starting point and reaching
all the way to this moment. Everything you’re doing in this moment is being recorded by time, whether you realize it or not.”
“Even this?” A boy in a San Diego Zoo shirt attempted a handstand, landing at an awkward angle in the grass.
“Yes, even that. Would anyone else like to tell us where they would go if they time traveled?” Several hands went up. As Julian got ready to call on someone, he happened to look up and catch the most fleeting expression on Hallie’s face. One he wasn’t sure he’d seen before and couldn’t really describe.
What was it? Certainly not . . . adoration. He wasn’t doing
that
well up here.
Still, it was hard to put any other description to her soft, dreamlike expression. The way she looked as if she were being
held up only by a string.
He had to be misinterpreting the whole thing.
Or worse, what if that adoration was for Owen? Not him?
When Julian cleared his throat, it sounded like he’d just guzzled a handful of broken walnut shells. “All right, in keeping
with the time-travel theme, on to the story.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “There was once a man named Doc Brown,
who built a time-traveling machine out of a DeLorean. Does anyone know what a DeLorean is?”
Silence.
Thankfully, the quiet carried over into the story, and the children remained seated on the grass, listening with only the
occasional outburst of giggles or interruptions, until Julian finished. When he finally glanced up from his rapt audience,
their parents were standing behind them holding little coats. And he was pleased to see that many of them were carrying the
discount cards for Corked. Natalie must have worked overtime to put them in everyone’s hands.
He watched Hallie slowly notice them, too, her gaze bouncing around to all the green-and-white cards. Then over at him.
That’s right, sweetheart. I deliver for you.
I can’t help it.
“Okay, then. Story time has ended.” He shooed the children away. “Go get hosed off.”
They climbed to their feet in a way that reminded him of newborn giraffes. Most of them went straight to their parents. Julian
was startled, however, when a pair of twins ran full speed in his direction and wrapped their skinny arms around his thighs.
Hugging him.
“You’re getting me dirty,” he pointed out, surprised when his throat tugged. “Fine.” He patted their backs. “Very good, thank
you.”
“Isn’t that the guy from that alien documentary?” one of the parents mused out loud.
Julian sighed.
Finally, it was over. Thank God.
When the kids left, he didn’t miss them at all.
Right.
Slowly, Hallie approached him, the beginnings of sunset creating a halo on top of her blond head. Over the course of his story
time, she’d taken off her shoes, and her toes sunk into the grass now, tipped in all different colors. Red, green, pink. He
could envision her sitting on the floor of a living room, trying to choose a shade, giving up and deciding a rainbow would
give her the best of all worlds. When had that kind of indecisiveness started to come across as tremendously charming to him?
That mysterious look from earlier was no longer in her eye, and he wanted it back, wanted her to adore him again. How could
he crave something that he’d obviously imagined?
“Thank you for doing that,” she said to him, her soft voice mingling with the crickets, the music still coming from the wine
tent. “You were great. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. They say kids are drawn to authenticity. You really nailed the genuine vibe, calling them disgusting and all.”
“Yes.” In the distance, he heard the grass-licker relating
Back to the Future
to his parents, and a weird clunk happened in his chest. “People say this all the time, and I never believe them. But did
you notice the children were also kind of . . . cute?”
She pressed her lips together, clearly suppressing a laugh. “Yes, I noticed. Why do you think I was compelled to ply them
with chocolate? I needed them to like me.”
“I understand now,” he admitted.
Hallie spent the next few moments staring down at her feet. Why? He had to stuff both hands in his pockets to keep from lifting
her chin. Owen was watching them from the shadow of the tent, too, and, Christ, was Julian so selfish that he would sabotage
her potential relationship with the gardener when he wasn’t in a position to offer her one himself? No.
“Yes,” he countered himself. Out loud.
Hallie’s head came up. There. There were her beautiful eyes. “Yes, what?”
Pulse firing, he shook his head. “Nothing.”
She hummed, narrowing her gaze. “Do you happen to know anything about those promotional cards for Corked that everyone was
holding?”
He kept his expression neutral. If he informed her of their origin, he’d probably have to tell her about the new awning he’d ordered for Corked, too, and he didn’t need to be told he’d gone overboard. He was well aware. And while a relationship with Lorna could help the vineyard, the true reason he’d intervened was standing right in front of him, with that perfect little
crease that ran down the center of her bottom lip. That dimple in her cheek. “Promotional cards for Corked? I didn’t notice.”
“Really.” She folded her arms across her tits, drawing his attention downward, and God almighty, the way the material of her
shirt stretched over those generous mounds would keep him awake tonight. Already, he was mentally uncapping his bottle of
lube, pressing his open mouth to the center of the pillow, and imagining her beneath him, naked, legs thrown over his shoulders.
“How odd. I wonder where they came from.”
If Julian told her, maybe she would kiss him. Or even come home with him. And fuck, that was tempting. But would he be leading
her on? Yes, he wanted to make her happy. Yes, he wanted to eviscerate everything that caused her to worry and put an eternal
Hallie Smile on her face. Every time he let himself indulge in Hallie, though, that out-of-control feeling threatened to topple
him. He didn’t know how to allow himself to . . . let go like that. It unnerved him. And he’d ultimately hurt her feelings—which
was the exact opposite of what he wanted.
They were cut from different cloth. He craved order, and she was human pandemonium. Yet why was he beginning to have such
a hard time remembering that? Maybe because those gray eyes were on him, her soft, round face brushed in sunset, her mouth
so goddamn close, he could taste it.
“I thought of you earlier tonight,” he said, without thinking, distracted by the dip of her dimple. “You were right about
what to say to Natalie.”
“Was I?” She searched his eyes. “You two had a heart-to-heart?”
“Of sorts, I suppose. The Vos version.” There was no denying how good it felt to speak to Hallie like this. Just the two of them. He’d met women throughout his life who were logical and con
cise and regimented. Like him. Shouldn’t it have been easier to open up to someone who operated the same way? “We . . . I guess you could say we bonded.”
“That’s amazing, Julian,” she whispered. “Over what?”
Hallie wanted to be kissed. She was standing too close for him to draw any other conclusion. And when she snagged that full,
creased bottom lip between her teeth and dropped her gaze to his mouth, he had to suppress a groan. Fuck it. There was no
stopping himself. Two days without her taste and it was like being starved to death. “She helped me with a letter I’ve been
meaning to write,” he muttered, dipping his head—
Hallie straightened. “Oh.” She blinked down at her hands. “Natalie helped you write a letter?”
Julian replayed his thoughtless words. What in the hell had he been thinking bringing up the secret admirer letter? He
wasn’t
thinking. He couldn’t keep his head on straight around Hallie. That was the problem. Why was he suddenly more desperate than
before to go retrieve the letter from the stump before anyone could accidentally find it? Especially his admirer.
Jesus. As he stood there looking down into Hallie’s face, the fact that he’d even temporarily left correspondence for someone
else made him ill. But Hallie was waiting for an explanation, and he couldn’t bring himself to lie. Not to her. “Yes,” he
said, praying the matter would be dropped immediately. “A secret admirer, if you can believe it. Writing back seemed like
the polite thing to do, although it was more a way for me and Natalie to—”
“That’s wonderful, Julian,” she blurted. “Wow. A secret admirer. That’s so old-school. Um . . .”
Wait. She wasn’t letting him finish. He wasn’t going to let the letter be found. It was important she understood that—
“I’m glad things turned a corner with your sister. I’m sure the fact that you’re making an effort means the most of all. Not what I suggested you do.” She took a step backward, away from him. “I better get back inside to see if Lavinia needs me.”
“Yes,” he clipped out, already missing her. Again. “But, Hallie—”
“Good night.”
Why did he have a mounting sense of guilt over writing that letter? He and Hallie weren’t dating. In fact, they’d specifically
agreed
not
to form any kind of personal relationship. So why did he feel like he’d fucking betrayed her? No matter that he’d pictured
Hallie’s face while writing back to the secret admirer—the guilt remained.
“Hallie . . .” he called to her again, no clue what to follow up with.
Jesus Christ, he was nauseous.
“I’ll be over sometime tomorrow to plant some dusty miller to really accentuate the lavender,” she sang on her way back into
the tent, thanking Owen for holding the flap open for her. “Thanks again for leading story time.”
With a smirk for Julian, Owen followed in Hallie’s wake.
Julian stared after the swinging canvas, winded. What the hell just happened?
And would anyone actually
miss
Owen if he disappeared?
When Julian reentered the tent, it took every ounce of his self-control not to pluck Hallie out from behind the donut booth
and carry her back outside. To finish their discussion in a way that would end in her smiling. Why? It would only confuse
this
thing
between them more. But it was a hell of a lot more preferable than leaving . . . their
thing
unsettled. This mental bedlam came
part and parcel with Hallie, and yet, he couldn’t stop going back for another helping.
Julian was just about to approach the donut booth when he spotted Natalie across the room. Since he’d gone outside for story
time an hour earlier, his sister had clearly put the pedal to the metal on wine consumption and was now flirting with one
of the wine vendors, a giant linebacker of a man in a
Kiss the Vintner
apron. As Julian watched, she made an attempt to boost herself onto the man’s table in what she no doubt believed to be the
ultimate seductive move. Until she slipped off—and would have landed on her ass if the linebacker’s arm didn’t shoot out from
behind the table to steady her.
In Julian’s periphery, he watched a photographer weave her way through the thinning crowd, her expression one of single-minded
focus. The last thing the winery needed was a picture of drunk Natalie ending up in the gossip section of some wine blog.
With a final frustrated glance toward Hallie, he hastened his way across the room, hoping to intercept his sister before she
became internet fodder. But apparently his worry was all for nothing. The vintner noticed the photographer, too. At the last
second, he maneuvered Natalie so his gigantic self was blocking the journalist from getting a decent shot.
“I’m telling you, August, it’s impossible to hum while you hold your nose,” Natalie was slurring when Julian reached them.
“Try it.”
Julian assumed this man would say something to humor or distract her, so he was surprised when the man actually pinched his
nose and attempted the feat, flashing a navy tattoo in the process. “Son of a bitch,” he rumbled. “Can’t hum a note.”
Natalie laughed long and loud. “You will remember this moment the rest of your life, August Cates.”
“Yeah.” Lopsided smile from the navy man. “Pretty sure I will.”
His sister stared up at the man for an awkward length of time. “Are we going to make out?”
A flash of white teeth. “Cancel all my calls,” he shouted over his shoulder to an imaginary secretary.
When Natalie took a step in the vintner’s direction and the photographer finally found a better vantage point, that was Julian’s
cue. “Time to go, Natalie.”
“Yep,” she agreed without missing a beat, allowing herself to be dragged away by her brother. Although, Julian lost count
of the number of times she looked back over her shoulder at her would-be make-out partner. “Forget gas-station guy.
That
man is the perfect rebound.”
“Make that decision when you’re clearheaded.”
“I don’t make good decisions when I’m clearheaded. That’s why I’m in Napa, remember?” She pulled him to a stop while they
were still out of Corinne’s earshot. “How did things go with Hallie, for whom you would sacrifice your life but will not date?”
“Not well, if you must know.”
She mimicked him, employing a British accent while doing it. Then she just kind of deflated all at once. “God. We are dysfunctional
people, aren’t we? Who unleashed us on the world?”
With perfect timing, their mother’s most diplomatic laugh rang out while she raised a wineglass to the couple standing at
the Vos booth. As soon as they departed, her smile dropped like an anvil from a ten-story building.
Natalie snorted. “I guess we have our answer.”
Julian watched his sister rejoin Corinne behind the table, his attention straying back to the other side of the tent before he could stop it.
We are dysfunctional people, aren’t we?
Perhaps Hallie was a wrench in the engine of his mental well-being, but was Julian the same to her? Or worse? He thought of
the first afternoon they met, when he criticized her placement of the flowers and she’d lost some of her glow. Just minutes
ago, she’d been soft and flirtatious, and he’d somehow ruined it. Again. Maybe he should be staying away from her because
of the damage
he
could inflict. Because as much as she drove him crazy with her lack of plans and organization, he liked her. A lot. Definitely
too much to be leaving letters for someone else.
With a spike in his throat, Julian rejoined his family behind the table, where they were preparing to leave. Logical or not,
he needed to get that letter and destroy it. Tonight.