Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
The backyard slopes downward, flanked by rows of ancient cedar trees. The vineyards stretch out beyond with rows of grapevines meticulously tended, following the gentle roll of the hills.
It’s toward the rows of grapes that we walk, chatting about the expansion. Gabe does most of the talking while I listen.
“We need to be aggressive but practical.” Gabe reaches out, plucks a small grape—no bigger than the size of a pea at this point in the season—off a merlot bunch and examines it. The end of each row has a post with a plaque identifying the grape variety, which is the only way I know it’s a merlot. “We can’t afford a misstep on this expansion, especially since you and I are out of our element.”
I shake my head. “I’m out of my element. This is your forte.”
“Bourbon isn’t the same as wine, not to mention, this is a French company and product. Trust me, I’m out of my element.”
I glance over at him, the morning sun making his blond hair glow like a halo but I know he’s no angel. “You don’t ever act like it. You’re always so in control.”
“Only because I work hard at looking like I’m in control,” he replies, and while he sounds like he’s jesting, I get the feeling he’s serious. “We can’t just throw money at this idea, even if we have legit investors. We need a sustainable approach. This is going to be a long and costly process, results not being seen until probably at least ten years down the road. I have my own business to run, and you’re busy as hell.”
“It sounds daunting. What am I supposed to tell Ethan when I barely understand this stuff?”
“I don’t think Ethan is looking for a recommendation from you as to the viability of these suggested plans. I think he’s looking for you to gut check yourself as far as I’m concerned.”
“I’m not following you,” I say hesitantly, although I think I’ve got an inkling as to what he means.
Gabe stops, turns to face me. “Your brother is smart. He’s a businessman, same as me. He can have any number of advisors evaluate all this stuff and tell him what to do, but he’s letting you handle this for one reason only.”
“And that is?”
“To find out if your family can trust me.”
I stare at Gabe because I used to trust him and then he betrayed me. Abandoned me. The easy answer to my brother should be “No, we can’t trust Gabe Mardraggon.”
But he’s not the same man I knew. He’s become a protector to Sylvie, turned his back on his father and that familial legacy, and he’s a man who loves his niece so thoroughly, I’m not sure there’s anything he wouldn’t do for her.
That all has to go into this gut check that Gabe is talking about. I have to reconcile my past feelings and experiences with the man standing before me now. But to admit that I think it’s okay to trust Gabe as it involves Sylvie and the winery means I might have to admit he’s changed for the better. It might mean there’s room to forgive and perhaps evaluate that kiss we had, and what seems to be a growing connection and I’m not sure I can do that.
“I don’t know,” I say, crossing my arms over my stomach. I look off into the distance over the fertile green hills. “Maybe we should just let the winery run as is for a while. It’s making a good profit and the oversight is manageable.”
Gabe stares at me, his expression teetering somewhere between admiration and annoyance. “When did you become so cautious? I remember a girl who used to take risks, who wasn’t afraid to chase what she wanted.”
“A lot has changed since then,” I reply, my arms shifting to cross over my chest. Defiance rather than self-protection. “I had to grow up and I don’t call that being cautious. I call that being wise.”
The big jerk isn’t chastened by my veiled reference to the reasons I had to grow up—mainly his lack of devotion to me. His eyes roam the length of my body and in a husky, sexually taunting voice, he says, “Yes, you have grown up, and very nicely indeed.”
“Oh, shut up,” I growl and backhand him lightly in the chest. There’s no heat in my strike because it’s all centered in my lower belly where his words have a very unwanted effect on me.
Gabe moves lightning fast, catching my wrist. But he doesn’t push me away, rather reels me in slowly until our hands are trapped between our bodies.
The air thickens, charged with the history and tension of what was left unsaid all those years ago. “Why do you think we keep circling back to each other?”
“Because I’m a glutton for punishment,” I bite out.