Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 103119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
The rest of her explanation hung unspoken in the air between them.
Showing up on time no longer mattered, because she had no one to disappoint.
No one but herself.
That thought made her frown.
“It helps me to write my schedule down, too,” he said. “I would have liked her.”
“What happens when you don’t write down your plans?” she asked, surprised to see his fingers pause midair, the line of his jaw turning brittle. “Do you still . . . keep them as usual? Or does not seeing them on paper throw you completely off track?”
“Well, I definitely didn’t have picking grapes on my schedule today and I seem to be doing fine.” In one fluid motion, they crab walked to the right and continued picking. The action was so seamless, they traded a fleeting look of surprise, but neither one of them addressed their apparent grape-harvesting chemistry. “Schedules are vital to me,” he continued a moment later. “But I’m not totally thrown off by a deviation. It’s more when things sort of . . . move beyond the bounds of my control that I don’t . . . maintain the course.”
“I hope you’re not revealing your rage-control problem while we’re alone in the middle of this vineyard.”
“Rage control,” he scoffed. “It’s not like that. It’s more of an attack of nerves. Followed by sort of the opposite. I just . . . check out. In this case, I did it when my family needed me most.”
Panic attacks. That’s what Julian was getting at. And it was telling that he couldn’t call them by their proper name. Was he simply irritated by something he saw as a weakness or was he in denial?
“That must be why your colleague’s breakdown affected you so much,” she said, worried she was overstepping, but unable to help it. Not when they were side by side like this, hidden from the rest of the world by six-foot vines, and she wanted so badly to know the inner workings of his mind, this man she’d been fascinated by for so long. He was nothing like she expected, either, but his flaws didn’t disappoint her at all. They actually made her less self-conscious. Less . . . alone in her own shortcomings.
“Yes, I suppose so,” he said, finally. Just when she thought the subject was closed, he continued, though the words didn’t seem to come naturally. “My father’s head would explode if he knew I had my hands on these grapes,” he muttered. “He doesn’t want me anywhere near the operation of the winery. Because of what I just told you.”
It took her a full ten seconds to grasp his meaning. “Because of . . . anxiety?”
He cleared his throat loudly by way of answering.
“Julian . . .” Her hands dropped to her bent thighs. “That’s the single most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“You didn’t see me. That night. The fire. What came after.” He used his shoulder to wipe away a bead of sweat, remaining silent for a moment. “He’s well within his rights to ask me to keep a distance. This morning, the destemmer breaks down, tomorrow there will be a lost shipment and an angry vendor pulling out. This is not for someone with my temperament, and he did the hard thing by pointing it out.”
“What happened the night of the fire?”
“I’d rather not, Hallie.”
She tamped down her disappointment. “That’s fine. You don’t have to tell me. But, look, you handled the broken destemmer just fine. You filled the need as efficiently as you do everything else.” Okay, it sounded like she’d been paying way too much attention. Sort of like a secret admirer might? “Or, at least, that’s how you seem to me. Efficient. Thoughtful.” She swallowed the wild flutter in her throat. “Heroic, even.”
Thankfully, he didn’t appear to pick up on the notes of swooning admiration in her voice. Instead, a trench formed between his eyebrows. “I think my mother might need help. If she does, she’s not going to ask for it.” He pulled down a grape cluster, studying it with what she could only assume was an expert eye. “But my father . . .”
“Isn’t here.” She nudged the bucket toward him. “You are.”
He scrutinized Hallie. And went right on looking until she felt her color rising. He seemed almost surprised that getting the worry off his chest hadn’t been a waste of time.
When the quiet had stretched too long, Hallie searched for a way to fill it. “It’s funny, you know? We’re both shackled by these parental expectations, but we’re dealing with them in totally opposite ways. You plan everything down to the minute. The very peak of adult responsibility. Meanwhile I . . .”
“You what?” he prompted, watching her closely.
Hallie opened her mouth to offer an explanation, but it got stuck. Like one of those king-sized gumballs, trapped behind her jugular. “I, um . . .” She coughed into the back of her wrist. “Well, I guess unlike you, I’m kind of self-destructive, aren’t I? I calmed down a lot for Rebecca. Because of her. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been well organized. Never owned a planner in my life. But lately, I think maybe I’ve been intentionally getting myself into messes . . .”