Heidi Rice - Back in His Bed

“It’s cathartic.” She snipped two more clusters and added them to the bucket at her feet. “And safer for Jack.”

“What are you going to do?” Dianne asked the question casually, but Brenna knew everyone in the vineyard was on edge, waiting to see what would happen next. Jack’s plan to sell would affect everyone in some way.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I’m open to ideas if you have any.” She’d been up most of the night, tossing and turning as she tried to figure out her options. There weren’t many.

“I wish I did.”

“Stubborn. Arrogant. Domineering. Jerk.” She punctuated each comment with a snip of the clippers.

“Max could be like that sometimes. He’s his father’s son; that’s for sure.”

Brenna laughed. “Oh, I dare you to tell him that. It’ll really get his goat.”

“I don’t think antagonizing Jack further is really the best idea right now, do you?” Dianne was always so calm, so unflappable. So annoyingly right most of the time.

“I was trying to be nice last night. Trying to be reasonable. That didn’t work out so well.”

“Because you have a history with Jack.”

“ Ancient history,” Brenna clarified.

“Still, it complicates things.”

No kidding. She’d seen the papers in the kitchen this morning; she’d even glanced through them while she waited for her coffee to brew. Turn over fifty-percent of the vineyard to the highest bidder? She’d been tempted to feed Jack’s stack of papers into the shredder and leave a bag of confetti hanging on his doorknob.

For the thousandth time, she wished she had the money to buy Jack’s share. But while the banks would be happy to loan her barrels of money as long as Jack was a co-owner, no bank in the world would loan her the money to buy him out. It still wasn’t an ideal solution—buying Jack out only solved one problem while causing a whole slew of others.

In the small hours of the morning, though, she had realized how much of their current problem was rooted in their heated, reckless past. She needed to recognize it and figure out good ways to move past it. Dianne wasn’t the only one realizing that. “That knowledge—however truthful it may be—doesn’t make the situation suck any less.” It certainly didn’t make her feel any better. She was drowning—in anger, frustration, guilt, worry, and a dozen other emotions she couldn’t quite name. The painful knot in her stomach was bordering on debilitating.

Dianne nodded understandingly, then looked at her watch. “I hate to harvest and run, but I need to shower so I can get the shop open in time. Plus, I think Chloe is waking up.” Dianne cooed at the baby as she stripped off her gloves.

“I appreciate the help. And the company, of course. Getting up at dawn goes above and beyond the call of duty.”

“But it’s fun—at least for the first couple of hours,” she added, as Brenna raised an eyebrow at her in disbelief. “Do you think you’ll finish today?”

“Marco brought a full crew, so if not today definitely tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ll see you at lunch. Tuna salad okay with you?”

“That’s great. You’re the best.”

“I know,” Dianne tossed over her shoulder as she left.

Brenna had enjoyed the company—having Di to talk to had been a nice distraction, one that she missed as she fell back into her rhythm and her mind started to wander.

There had to be a solution. She just needed to find it. If she’d only known Jack would carry such a grudge…

It wasn’t all her fault, she thought as she carried the full bucket of grapes to the bin at the end of the row and emptied it. He was just as much to blame for their disastrous relationship and the fallout as she was. The early days had been fantastic—the type of thing romance novels were written about. The boss’s handsome son, descending from the city to sweep the winemaker’s daughter off her feet. Picnics in the vineyard; stolen kisses behind the barrels of Merlot. Making love under a canopy of Cabernet vines, then feeding the ripe grapes to each other in the afterglow.

It had been everything she’d ever dreamed of. Romantic and passionate and all-encompassing. Jack had made her feel like the center of his universe—beautiful and sexy and interesting. It had been too easy to fall in love.

But, while opposites attracting worked great in movies, the reality hadn’t been dreamy at all.

While it had all gone to hell later, she did have fond memories of being eighteen and head-over-heels in love. Jack had been different then, too: more carefree, with a smile that melted her knees even in memory.

The old Jack would be more reasonable and much easier for her to deal with. The old Jack wouldn’t want to sell her winery out from under her, or ruin everything she’d worked for simply out of spite. He’d changed so much in the last ten years. He’d become more reserved, harder and colder. Sometimes she wondered if he was really the same man.

She missed the old Jack. The one she fell in love with. The Jack who didn’t hate her.

She shook off the reverie and the sinking feeling. She had to deal with this Jack. And quickly—for the good of Amante Verano and her own mental health.

“Daydreaming on the job, boss?” Ted grinned at her as he upended his overflowing bucket into the bin. “You seem pretty far away.”

“Trust me, I’m here. Just sending up quick prayers that the pump doesn’t die again.”

“After the way you cursed at it yesterday? It wouldn’t dare.”

She laughed. “It deserved it. Cantankerous thing.” Much like someone else she knew. She pulled off her gloves. “Unless you need me here for some reason, I’m going to head back to the winery. Lots of grapes to process, and…”

“You have a cantankerous pump to deal with,” he finished for her.

That explanation would do. “Exactly.”

But the pump seemed to be working fine. At least that part of her life was moving along on plan. Although it freed her mind to stew over other issues for the next six hours, she didn’t discover any new solutions to her problems.

She took her time hosing out the crusher for the last time, then puttered around the lab, stalling for time. Calling it a day would put her back in the house with Jack. For such a big house, it felt very small with Jack in it, and, since she was still having trouble controlling her hormones while he was around, putting herself in close proximity to him didn’t sound like a great idea. Plus, there was no way to avoid more discussion of the future of the vineyard, and without any bright new ideas she wasn’t in any hurry for another round with Jack over that.

But she couldn’t hide in her lab forever, and as the sun went down her irritation grew—both with herself and Jack. She was avoiding her home , for goodness’s sake. Just because of him.

That irritation fueled her up the hill to the house, and as she toed off her boots in the mudroom she felt ready for a fight and actually hoped Jack was nearby.

Then she heard Dianne’s voice in her head: “Don’t antagonize him.” That deflated her indignant bubble a bit. She’d be nice if it killed her.

But Jack wasn’t around. The kitchen was empty, the sale paperwork still sitting on the counter. The living room was just as empty. She glanced down the hallway, but no light or noise came out of the office either.

Jack’s car sat in the driveway, so he hadn’t gone far. Of course his room and the gym were on the far side of the house, but she didn’t have a good excuse to go wandering down that hallway to see where he was. Plus, she didn’t want to take the chance of running into him while he was hot and sweaty and half dressed again. Last night had been bad enough.