Wild Abandon (21 page)

“You remind me a lot of her. Remind us all of her.”

“Well, I am pretty spectacular.” I swing my hair around my head and bat my lashes in a rather dramatic fashion.

Harry lightly taps his foot. “Gotta love a woman with modesty.” He takes the toothpick out of his mouth and points it at me. “You’re good for him.”

I smile at the comment, but the way he’s looking at me with his eyes all adoring and knowing, my breathing stops for a moment, and I’m in shock. “We are not in a relationship!”

Harry’s mouth stops mid chew, the toothpick hanging out of his mouth.

“I just work here,” I continue with a hasty tone. “We’re not…I mean, he could be my father!”

Harry’s forehead crinkles as he takes in my comment, and then he slaps his knee, hard, and lets out a howl. “As if that old bastard could land a filly like you!” He takes his tone down a notch and shakes his head, still laughing. His shoulders stop shaking as he takes a deep breath. “After Ellie got sick, he stopped caring about the world. Turned his back on his friends, on his family. I don’t know what you did, but keep on doing it.” Harry looks down, his expression downturned in concentration. “Now, if only we could get him to talk to—”

“Will you quit hitting on the girl?” Ed is standing over the two of us, seemingly unhappy with the conversation we were having.

“We were just talking about bringing some tour groups back here,” Harry redeems himself. “You know it was always my favorite spot.”

I look over to Harry in confusion, so he explains, his hands outstretched in a show of pride, “Handsome Harry’s Luxury Tours, at your service.”

“Wine tours? Here?” My mouth is agape. I turn to Ed. “Yes! You said it’s time. Can Harry bring the tour group through? What would you serve?”

Mark chimes in, “He has stock. And I know there’s something in those barrels.”

The other men make their way over to the conversation, looking at Ed, waiting to see what he’s going to say.

Ed leans on his cane and nods his head. “Russet Ranch is back open for business.”

The seven of us cheer into the open sky and clap in enjoyment. The men pour more liquor, and Dan the Band Man breaks out his guitar. The two of us play some old folk music that Ed is a particular fan of. Loaded with bourbon, the men sing as loud as they possibly can and keep going until the sun sets, serenading the coyotes under the twinkling lights of the pergola.

Is it strange that I’m nervous? I don’t know why I am. The ranch isn’t mine, and Ed’s been doing this for years. It’s probably because I don’t know what to expect.

I’m standing by the bar, palms sweaty with a dancing butterfly in my belly, when Handsome Harry’s Luxury Tours van can be heard coming up the driveway. I peek out the front door and see him helping the tour group out. There are twelve of them. Harry walks them over into a small patch of vineyard and starts talking to them about the grapes.

I turn around and walk back toward the bar. I straighten the pleats of my sundress and fix my necklace. Ed is wearing a bowling shirt and his staple khaki pants rolled up at the ankles with loafers and no socks. Today, he has on his fedora with a feather sticking out.

When Ed walks outside to greet Harry and the tour group, I notice something new on the side wall by the bar—four photos in old frames. One photo is unmistakably Rosemary. She looks to be in her forties and has long red hair twisted up into a bun on the top of her head, wispy tendrils of hair blowing around her face. She is standing in the rose garden and looks like she is trying to run away from having her picture taken yet smiling uncontrollably. The next is Ellie. She is older in the photo than in her portrait. In her late teens, she’s standing in a barrel with denim shorts and feet buried in grapes. She is laughing, and her hair is flying in the air. She must have been mid crush, dancing, when it was taken. There is photo of an old man seated in a rocker, who I assume is Old Man Russet, and the fourth is of me. I’m seated at the stone bench, playing the cello. The roses are behind me, the sun setting in the distance, and I have a grin on my face. Someone must have taken it the other night.

Ed and Harry walk in, talking to the tour group. Ed tells everyone to stand around the bar. I move out of the way and head to the back door. I watch as Ed pours tasting glasses for everyone and gives them a lesson about the wine, a lesson I sat through a few weeks ago.

On the veranda, I make sure the lunch we prepared is set up. Harry serves his tours a meal midday, and the veranda of Russet Ranch was always his favorite place to bring people. I take my seat and play my cello, waiting for the tasting portion of the visit to complete and for everyone to come outside.

“Napa is for lovers, not loners.”

Nate’s statement is beyond true when it comes to Harry’s tour group. Six couples, all on a honeymoon or anniversary trip of some sort. They sit down at the table together. I always wondered why Ed had such a large table out here. Now, I understand.

The strangers eat together, family-style, enjoying the lunch we had catered and the wine they purchased today from Ed. They ask Ed questions about himself, intrigued by someone who lives here in Napa. He answers and even throws in some interesting facts about the region. The music brings an elegant ambiance to the afternoon. As I play, I look out onto the rose garden, breathing in the northern California air.

After an hour, Harry tells everyone that it’s time to move on to their next location. I follow the group as they exit, walking around the side of the building, and wave them off along with Ed.

When they’re gone, Ed gives me a pat on the shoulder and stalks toward the garage. Today must have been an emotional day for him. His ranch is back—well, almost. My next mission is to get him to reclaim the vineyards as his own, so he can make wine again.

As I walk into the main room of the ranch, my head is in a daze from the afternoon, and I almost miss the man standing in the middle of the old Persian carpet, staring up at the chandelier.

A man whose physique I’d know anywhere.

A strong back whose lines are contoured through his dark T-shirt. His arms hang at his sides, the infinity tattoo visible from his lowered wrist. He has on a hat, covering the buzz cut I know is beneath, and I know that when he turns around, I’ll see lips I’ve tasted and that told me to leave.

Nate’s back stiffens, as if he knows I’m behind him, and he turns around. His face has a look of confusion.

He takes a step back and points up to the chandelier. “Why is that here?”

I purse my lips and consider his question.
Why is it here?
Because I thought it was pretty and would brighten up the space. It’s similar to a fixture I saw on the show
Fixer Upper
and knew it would be an awesome contrast against the hardie board, giving it the rustic chic look I was going for.

I would say that, but I have a feeling that’s not what he’s really asking.

“How did you know I worked here?” I ask.

“You work here?”

Based on the intensity of his question, I don’t think he came here to apologize.

“Yes,” I answer slowly.

“You’re a cellist”—his eyes are looking at me in the most peculiar way—“who works at a winery even though they don’t have wine tastings.” Something about his voice is making him sound like a robot. “And they don’t produce wine but will be reopening.” Nate looks around the space, taking in the decor. “I’m a fucking idiot.” His eyes stop at the mural.

“Naomi painted it,” I offer.

In turn, he offers me silence.

His head turns back to me, his brows curved in with a pinch of disappointment. I know I’m supposed to be totally pissed at him for the other night, but his reaction right now is throwing me so off guard that I feel like I should be apologizing to him for something.

I raise my arms in question. “Nate, is there something you came here to say to me?”

He opens his mouth to speak but doesn’t say anything. He is staring at me so hard that his eyes aren’t even blinking. If it weren’t for the movement in his chest, I’d swear he was a statue.

I lean forward and wait for him to say something. Anything.

“We can’t see each other again,” he finally speaks.

And those are the words that come out of his mouth?

“I’m sorry, what?”

“This was a mistake.” He turns and walks out the front door, leaving me staring at the space where his body was standing as I try to figure out what the hell just happened.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I stomp out the door toward him. “You came here to tell me that we can’t see each other anymore?”

Nate doesn’t answer. He marches straight to his truck and climbs in. The ignition is started so quickly that I have to back up, so I don’t get kicked with pebbles when he drives away.

What the hell just happened?

When I turn around, Big Ed is standing on the side of the ranch, looking back at the scene, probably wondering the exact same thing.

chapter FOURTEEN

It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Nate. The ranch is doing well. We host one wine tasting a day, four times a week. On the days Ed is gone, I drive myself crazy while sitting in Jeremy and Naomi’s house. I’m bored out of my mind. Naomi is working, so I can’t hang in my room. Scarlet is at school, so I can’t bother her, and Jeremy is at work.

I spend my afternoons plucking away on the front stoop.

Today, my cello and I are serenading the empty block with Ed Sheeran. At least as much of it that I can get out with a solo cello. Right now, I’m playing “Thinking Out Loud,” a song about loving someone forever. It reminds me of Ed and Rosemary.

I start out with plucking at the strings, playing the opening chords, as Ed would do on a guitar. Then, I bring in the bow and strum the chords of his lyrics. I’m on my ninth—or quite possibly my nineteenth—rendition of the song when Naomi comes stomping out of the house.

“For the love of all things holy,
please
stop playing that fucking song!”

I look up at her. “What crawled up your ass?”

Her head cocks out. “Ed Sheeran—that’s who crawled up my ass. And my ears and my nose, and he’s living in my freaking head. It’s bad enough the cello is the most morbid-sounding instrument, but if I hear one more note out of that thing, I’m smashing it.”

“Jeez, all you had to do was ask nicely.”

Naomi lets out a breath and rubs her forehead. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

Naomi takes a seat next to me, her elbows resting on her knees. “I know you’re upset over Nate, but you have to move on.”

“I am not moping over Nate.”

She accusingly raises her brow at me.

“If I were so upset over Nate, then why am I going out with Brent again tonight?”

This will be my fifth date with Brent in two weeks. He’s taken me horseback riding on his vineyard, to dinner in Sonoma, and to an art show in the valley.

“You’ve been going through the motions with Brent, but I know you, Crystal. You’re not into it.” Naomi looks concerned. “Nate is the first guy in seven years I’ve seen you have any emotions for.”

“I don’t have feelings for Nate!” I say defensively.

She is giving me the mother-hen deadpan look she usually reserves for Scarlet.

“Fine, I like Nate. But I’m not in love with him or anything. I just enjoy hanging out with him. It’s not holding me back from anything.”

“Of course it is. It’s what you do.”

I scrunch my face at her. “What do you mean,
it’s what I do
?”

Naomi answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Crystal, you’ll find any excuse not to commit. Brent is perfect, but you’re so focused on how Nate cast you aside that you’re using that to keep a wall up with Brent. For years, you’ve used your marriage to Stephen as a reason to stay away from most men.”

“I’m sorry. Repeat that, please, because I’m trying hard not to find it insulting. Steven broke my heart.”

“He never broke your heart.” Naomi turns to face me, her knee touching the side of mine. “You’ve created this perfect man in your head. If a man doesn’t meet your expectations, then you walk away.”

“News flash. Nate is far from the perfect man. He is the opposite of everything I want in a guy.”

“And that’s why you want him. Because you know it’s not going to work.”

“Jeez, please don’t hold anything back.” I give her an eye roll and then run my finger through my scalp and down the strands of my curls.

“Brent is everything you’ve ever wanted. I get why you’re dating him. You need to realize what you want and what you need are two very different things.”

I lean my head back and look up into the sky. What I want and what I need are one in the same.

I turn back to Naomi, who has a look of concern for me plastered all over her face. I suppose I have been moping a lot today. She brought me out here to find love and try something new and exciting. She shouldn’t worry about me though. I have it all under control.

Picking my cello back up in position, I look over at Naomi and start playing the music to “All You Need Is Love” by The Beatles.

“You’re an ass,” Naomi says as she gets up from the stoop. “Go get dressed. And leave a bottle of that Ellie Creek. I know you have some stashed under your bed.”