Chaos Among the Vines (Romancing the Vine Book 2) Read online

  “I beg your pardon?” She shifted, facing him. Her brow furrowed as her head tilted to the side.

  “Sorry, there’s bergamot in your perfume.”

  “There is?” She acted as if she didn’t know what ingredients in the cologne created her unique scent.

  “Part of my job is to identify different flavors that go into making a wine bad, good, or damn near spectacular. Hazard of the job that I identify aromas.”

  “And you get all of that from just a whiff?” Her laugh was low and a little raspy, catching on his nerve endings like roughened silk.

  “Yeah.” He leaned forward, his nose near her neck, sniffing again.

  She held still, eyes wide, lips parted. He wondered if she’d taste sweet like berries if he touched his lips to hers. Realizing the unprofessional behavior, he straightened. “I also get citrus and cloves. It’s a warm, luscious kind of scent.” He took a step back.

  Eyeing him as though not sure what to make of him, she cleared her throat. “It reminds me of better times,” she acknowledged.

  Longing and nostalgia crept through her expression. A buzz sounded between them, but it wasn’t a good buzz. A cool mask dropped over her face. She consulted the chunky contraption strapped to her wrist. Tapping the surface of it a few times, she nodded and lowered her arm to her side. The buzz sounded again and Will recognized it for what it was. A distraction. A goddamned inconvenient intrusion. Her watch was a smart one, a device designed to keep her connected.

  Dragging his gaze from her was harder than it should have been. He twitched the curtain to the side again, and pointed to the chairs. “I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes. I have to go to the cellar for the wine, so I’ll stop and ask Guinevere to join us. Might as well make it a party.”

  “We aren’t here to party, Will. There is a mountain of work ahead of us, and a finite amount of time to conquer the learning curve. We should get to work right away.”

  “Are you always this tightly wound?”

  “No,” she protested, but the way her eyes shifted sideways told a different story.

  What he wouldn’t give to see her cut loose and relax a little. A new goal for him?

  “Yeah, I bet you are. Listen, there’s plenty of time for us to work. I promise we’ll dig right in tomorrow. But for tonight, it’s about relaxing. You, me, Guinevere, and a bottle or two of my best red.” He moved to the door, casting a glance over his shoulder at her. “See you downstairs in fifteen.”

  She waved her hand as if to protest, then let it drop. The light from the window surrounded her in a glimmering, magical halo. Will paused, taking in the angelic sight, then slipped from the room, closing the door softly behind him.

  ~ ~ ~

  Will knocked on the door. “Hey, Guinevere.”

  The barrier popped open and he was greeted with her broad smile. “I love my room. I may never leave. Except maybe to go to work.” Her blonde hair skimmed the ruffle on her floral top as she tipped her head. Will liked her relaxed style.

  “Hope I can change your mind about that. Impromptu meeting on the patio in fifteen minutes. There will be wine,” he chuckled, then sobered. “You like wine, don’t you? I can offer something else.”

  She reached up and patted his cheek. “Honey, is the Pope Catholic?”

  “Um . . . yeah?” He’d never had a near-stranger treat him so familiarly. “I’m headed to the cellar to pick out a couple bottles. Just wander out the back door of the kitchen and down the big stone path. You can’t miss the spot.” He turned to go.

  Her voice stopped him. “Can I come with you?”

  “To the cellar? Sure.” He led the way to a narrow door off the hall between Guinevere’s room and the kitchen. The hinges protested with a creepy squeal. He’d needed to oil it three weeks ago. “Mind the steps. They’re pretty narrow.” He flipped up the wall switch, shedding light on the confining staircase.

  Their footfalls echoed off hewn stone walls as they descended the creaking steps. At the bottom, Will veered to the right and headed to the room carved into the rock foundation. It had once served as a root cellar. He dug keys from his pocket and opened the padlock securing the glassed-in gate.

  “Oh, this is marvelous.” Guinevere clapped her hands together when he pulled the stout wrought iron clear of the frame. “Just like Ali Baba’s cave.”

  At some point, the previous owners had added slanted shelves and racks. When Will had bought the place, he’d planned to put in a climate control system.

  Just another thing he hadn’t gotten to yet.

  “Maybe a little. But without the golden lamps, treasure chests, and jewels.” The green and brown bottles on the shelves did glitter like precious gems beneath intense pendant lights. It was an entrancing sight. “What’s your pleasure? Red or white?”

  She tapped a finger against her lower lip. “Which kind made you famous?”

  “It was a red, a cabernet.” He hoisted one of the green bottles free of the rack, and displayed it to her over his forearm, like a sommelier at high-class restaurant. The only thing lacking was the white towel and a black tuxedo.

  Her brows squeezed together. “Not sure what I’m looking at. But Ava told me the story of your success. So that’s what I want to try. I love that show, It Takes Two Therapy. They’re all so witty.”

  “Well, the writers are witty. The other guys are just great actors.” He’d met a couple of them and found them a little vapid and self-centered. Except the lead actor, Matt Samone. He was all right.

  After grabbing a second bottle, and then a Chardonnay, Will ushered her from the storage room. He handed her the bottles and replaced the padlock. It snapped shut with a solid click.

  “We’ll stop in the kitchen for glasses.”

  He took two of the bottles off her hands and led her back upstairs. She wasn’t following him. He paused at the top, turned and went back down. He found her crouched over a pile of junk, the Chardonnay forgotten beside her. She’d pulled a small doll carriage free of the rest of the trash. One of the wheels was crumpled, and there was a large dent in the side of the pink plastic body.

  “Guinevere?"

  She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering. “I haven’t seen one of these for ages.”

  “A baby buggy?” He hadn’t even known what was in the junk pile. He’d always averted his eyes from it on the way to the cellar. Just one more thing that he hadn’t bothered with when he’d moved in ages ago.

  “Ava had one just like it. She came unglued when we had to get rid of it.”

  “You’ve known her a long time?” Maybe she’d know how he could break through her efficient manner.

  “Forever. She’s my daughter.” Guin pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Oops.”

  Will did a double take. Mother and daughter? “I had no idea.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to tell. She doesn’t really want you to know.” Guinevere dropped to her bottom and gently rocked the carriage back and forth.

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Says it doesn’t look professional to drag me along with her. Saying I was her assistant was a better cover.” She tucked her long blond hair behind one ear.

  “So you don’t really work for her?”

  “Oh, Jesus no!” She shuddered. “Working for her would be awful. She is so regimented. Such a clock-watcher, too. She takes a three-minute break at ten-oh-two each morning to refresh her coffee. Then it’s right back to work. But not until she’s washed her spoon and placed it where it belongs, upside right in the dishwasher. Hard to believe she’s my daughter.”

  He’d have to agree with that. They were very unalike, from their looks to their demeanor. Guinevere’s free spirit was vastly different than the strongly chained Ava.

  “Does she ever cut loose?”

 
Guinevere curled her lips inward and bit down, as if trying to keep a secret in. She shifted her gaze to the steps, then leaned forward. “She wants to. But she fears losing control.”

  Will held his tongue He could tell she wanted to spill her precious secret. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “I haven’t always been a good mother. While I’m good about paying other peoples’ bills on time, I forget to pay my own. In fact, I was so bad at one point, Ava and I lived in our car for six months, until I got back on my feet.” She pointed to the carriage. “Ava didn’t have many toys, and I ended up hocking most of them at a pawn shop.”

  “To buy food or pay rent?”

  Dark red flashed into her cheeks. “I wasted the cash on art supplies. Painting was the only thing that gave me any true comfort. I’m ashamed to say even when Ava needed it most, my attention was focused on me.” She bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes.

  That must have been awful for them. Will couldn’t picture the stylish woman he’d met ever living that way. He’d volunteered at a soup kitchen while in college and would see families stagger in for the one hot meal they might get each day. Most were dazed, and seemed to have no purpose beyond getting warm and fed. “What happened?”

  “I wasn’t much good for anything, and Ava . . . well, she can handle most anything life throws at her. She kept to a schedule, and made sure I stuck to it as well. I’d drop her at school, then she’d insist I go to the public library and comb the want ads, looking for a job. When I’d pick her back up after school, she’d quiz me about where I’d applied. Then she’d drive us to the laundromat so she could wash her clothes for the next day. She never wanted the kids at school to know we were living in the car. I’d have to drop her off and pick her up far away from the building. It wasn’t an easy time for her.”

  His chest ached thinking of Ava’s humiliation and shame over their living situation, something she had no control over. Suddenly, her tightly wound demeanor made more sense. “But you found somewhere to live, right?” He wasn’t sure he’d be able to live in a car for six days, let alone six months.

  “Yeah. She kept after me until I found a job. Then she confiscated my paycheck whenever I got one, and headed straight to the bank. In two months, we had enough rent money for a place in a run-down apartment complex. She hated it. Rodents the size of cats, and the water ran out of the taps like brown sludge.”

  She lifted sorrowful eyes to him. “It wasn’t ideal, but it was close enough to her school that she could walk home. My little Ava made it a home. She’d pinch flowers from the houses she passed on the way from school and they’d be in a chipped glass on the table when I got home. She was in charge of cooking and shopping, cleaning. And I let her. She even went out and found a job after school so she could help financially. And she kept her grades good enough to earn scholarships for college.”

  Admiration swelled in him, a growing, palpable sensation. “You must have done something right for things to turn out so well. I mean, you managed to get out of a bad situation.”

  “It was all her. I contributed very little to her efforts. I guess her having to step up and be the parent when I couldn’t . . . or wouldn’t . . . fashioned her into the strict time manager she has become.”

  “Yeah, she is a bit of a stickler for her schedule.”

  “Please don’t tell her I’ve told you this. I know she’d rather forget the entire six months. She won’t even talk to me about it.”

  He offered his hand to Guinevere and pulled her to her feet. “Your secret is safe with me. I won’t say a word.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Listen, since you aren’t her employee, I want to pay you for working in the office for me.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t.” Her words denied his offer, but her eyes went sparkly.

  “Yeah, you can. It’s only fair. If you’d prefer, we can keep that a secret from Ava as well.”

  Guinevere nodded. “Probably best. And thank you for understanding.”

  “We should get outside. She’ll be down shortly, if she isn’t already there, waiting on us and checking her watch every two seconds.”

  This time she followed him as he led the way back up the skinny staircase. He stopped in the kitchen for glasses and a wine opener. He handed the bottles over to her and pointed to the back door.

  Ava was, in fact already waiting out there for them. And sure enough, she’d just checked her watch, then stared up toward the house. Smiling, he grabbed a tray from the cupboard and arranged the glasses on it, adding a box of crackers. There was a bag of sliced cheeses and some fruit in the fridge and those joined the rest of the feast on the tray.

  He turned to find Guinevere staring out the door toward her daughter, with a curious look . . . part admiration, part anxiety on her face. “Will?”

  He moved next to her and opened the door. “Yeah?”

  “I did it again.”

  “Did what?”

  “I lost my home recently.” She didn’t look at him. “That’s why I was crashing with Ava. I messed up again. And this is my chance to show her I’m not a complete screw up.”

  “Guinevere, everyone makes mistakes. We won’t talk about the bad choices made by my family. I could have been in Ava’s spot as easily. You’ve had some hard knocks. Not your fault. Besides, now you’re here to help me. I’ll count that as a win.”

  She released a long, drawn out sigh. “I just wish mine wasn’t so monumentally . . . I guess you should call me Guin. I mean, I am going to be working for you. And, by the way, Ava doesn’t really like to be called anything but Avalon.”

  He couldn’t hold back the smile. “Yeah, I got that memo. I do it just to see what kind of reaction I can get from her. Maybe I can help her lighten up a little.”

  A lopsided grin lit Guin’s face. “Good luck with that.”

  Chapter 11

  Will and Guin strolled along the wide stone path toward Avalon. Her mother said something that brought a big grin to Will’s face. God, he’s gorgeous when he smiles. As they neared, Avalon noted his brown eyes shifted to the color of sweet sherry. She wouldn’t mind a sip of that.

  To drive the unprofessional thoughts away, she pinched her own bicep. She wasn’t here to fraternize with the client. She probably shouldn’t even be staying in his house. But her circumstances were dismal. It sucked she couldn’t book a hotel room using her credit card. The card was hers, not the company’s. If anyone was looking for them, they might have her accounts under surveillance as well as any financial assets Mom had.

  With a grin, Will set a plate of food in front of her. Part of her softened, but that melting sensation forged her practical side into iron. Avalon straightened in her chair.

  “Red or white?” Will asked, displaying both labels to her.

  She shrugged. “Either is fine.”

  “Red it is, then.”

  He worked the corkscrew while Guin arranged glasses and a pretty ceramic plate on the table. After claiming the chair across from Avalon, her mother upended sliced cheese from a plastic bag. Next, she emptied a box of crackers haphazardly on the same plate.

  Leaning forward, Avalon reached toward the plate to organize the contents. Guin met her gaze and smirked, making Avalon curl her fingers against her palm. She shoved her hand under her thigh. Guin had deliberately baited and taunted her by making a mess.

  Concentrating on his wine bottle rather than the byplay between Avalon and her frustrating mother, Will splashed vibrant red liquid into the goblets.

  “A little lesson first.” He handed her the wine. “Have you ever been to a wine tasting?”

  “Can’t say as I have.” Who had the time for frivolous fun? Beth had invited her once to a Corks and Forks charity event. Avalon couldn’t recall why she’d declined. Probably needed to stay home and alphabetize
my CD collection. It would have been as good an excuse as any. Chagrin threatened to plow through her, but she beat it away.

  Will reached for a piece of cheese. “No worries. I’ll walk you and Guin through the steps so you can truly savor the experience.”

  He edged closer to her, until his knee bumped her thigh. She shied away, but he followed, as though intent on maintaining contact with her.

  His eyes drilled into hers as she tensed. “Relax. I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.”

  Need sparked under her skin with his words. Why would she like the way he talked to her? Gnawing her lower lip, she held her position, perversely gratified she’d made the right choice when Will beamed a pleased look her way.

  True to his words, he led them through the swirling of the glass, taught them how to shove their noses into the bowl to identify the spices and fruits flavoring the wine.

  “I smell pepper,” Avalon noted. She sniffed again. “And cherries.”

  Guin didn’t participate in the lesson, so much as sit there and sip the wine, a vapid smile on her lips.

  Will waved his glass under his nose and inhaled audibly. “Okay, now take a sip and hold it on your tongue. Let the heat of your mouth warm the wine before you swallow.”

  Avalon did as instructed as the sun met the horizon. The wine finished with a strong hint of spice. “It’s very good.”

  Will snorted. “Okay, I’ll take that.” He slid the plate of cheese toward her. “Cheese has a high fat content, which will change the flavors you taste. Pick some and let’s do it again.”

  Avalon nibbled a cube of Gouda while Guin slathered a cracker with a small wedge of Brie. After they’d finished, they each took a sip.

  “Oh!” Guin danced in her chair. “You’re right, it is different.”

  “Smoother, isn’t it? More robust?”

  Downing another sip, Avalon agreed. “Even the texture feels silkier. Is that possible?”