Love in the Vineyard (The Tavonesi Series Book 7) (22 page)

“I’ll be back midweek or by the weekend at the latest. I have a surprise for you,” he said in a cheery tone. That he could switch emotions so quickly disturbed her. Frightened her. Made her warier. She wasn’t a toy.

“Adrian. No more surprises.” The date for the ballet and finding out his identity had been enough surprise for a lifetime.

“I think you’ll like this one.”

“No.”

“Don’t worry. It’s
perfect
.”

She heard beeping and noises in the background.

“The doctor’s here. I want to spring Rafe from this place before he seduces all the nurses and—Ow!” There was a pause, and she could tell he’d covered the phone. “They may have to tie him down. See you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great. Ciao.”

Ciao
.

Rome
.

Her mind raced with all the things she’d imagined saying to him. And she hadn’t had time to say a single one.

When she’d left his place—was it only four mornings ago?—she’d meant to tell him that they shouldn’t see each other again. That she had to consider Tyler and his feelings. Tyler had already asked her too many questions about him. Children seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to emotions. She couldn’t have Adrian march into their lives, throw everything around for a while and then cut things off when some polo princess or fashion model caught his eye.

But as the sun had risen over the ridge behind his house that morning and washed gold light over them, he’d gathered her in his arms and kissed her. And the words she’d rehearsed had dissolved once again and wouldn’t reform.

A
surprise
, he’d said.

There had been a time when she’d enjoyed surprises. When she was about four years old. The surprises since then weren’t ones she liked to think about. And if the ballet date was any indication, the promised surprise Adrian had dangled would likely reinforce the gap she wished with all her heart didn’t exist. But it did exist. And all the wishing in the world wouldn’t change that fact.

Natasha had just finished putting away the pots and pans in the kitchen when Tyler ran in and closed her in a bear hug.

“Mom! We
won
! We get to go onto the field!”

“Mmpff.” She hugged him back. “I thought you were at the museum.”

“I was, but Mr. Henderson told us when the bus got back to school that
our
school won!”

“Whoa. Won what, honey?”

“The scoreboard and the bleachers. Jeez, Mom, don’t you remember? The bake sale? The money?”

“Great news, honey.”

“
More
than great. You and I get to go on the field and get the check.
And
we get to sit in Alex Tavonesi’s seats for the game. Behind home plate, Mom. For the
whole
game. Right there. And Scotty Donovan is pitching, I checked the schedule and—”

“I can’t do that, honey. I have to work.” She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t want to be in front of TV cameras or have his face and hers blasted up on the big screen. Not after what Petey had told her. Too public. Too exposed.

“If you don’t go with me, I can’t go,” Tyler said.

She hated the dejected look on his face. And then his face brightened.

“It’s a Thursday night game, Mom. You don’t work at night.” He leaped up. “We might even get to go in the dugout. That would be the bomb. Brandon and his mom are coming too. Brandon said they can drive.”

No one could stand firm in the force of Tyler’s joy. She’d wear a cap. And sunglasses. Eddie didn’t know their last name, sure didn’t know Tyler’s name at all. Didn’t know Tyler existed. And what were the chances of Eddie watching a baseball game and recognizing her? Or watching that particular game? Loads of people didn’t pay attention to pre-game action on the field.

She tilted her head from side to side and tried to release the tightness that had snapped into place in her neck. Would there ever be a day when things felt easy? A day when she’d wake up and make coffee and look out the window and not feel the nag of anxiety?

She wrapped an arm around Tyler’s shoulders and squeezed. “Then you’d better get ahead on your homework.”

A knock sounded at their door. She wasn’t ready for visitors. Maybe never would be.

“That’s Ava.” Tyler wriggled out of her embrace. “She lives two apartments down. She’s on her school’s softball team. She throws
hard
.” He looked back to Natasha. “Can we throw for an hour? And then I promise I’ll come in and do
all
my homework.”

“And eat.”

“Yeah, Mom. Jeez. Of course eat.”

Natasha finished repotting the last of the penstemons for the pollinator garden. She’d bought out the local native nursery. If she had her way, she’d have rows and rows of starts going in the vineyard greenhouses. She’d mentioned her idea to Tammy.

She laid her gloves on the gorgeous wooden potting bench that had mysteriously arrived and been put in place earlier in the week. The bench was much fancier than anything Natasha required. But mention something she needed and—bing!—it appeared. She was still getting used to that fact.

Everything about Casa del Sole was a work of either fine craftsmanship or perfect effort. When Natasha had remarked about the expense of the bench, Tammy had told her it was Adrian’s way of keeping the artisans of the area employed.
Lord
Adrian, Tammy had teasingly called him. But the jibe wasn’t funny to Natasha. She felt like a lucky minion on Adrian’s grand estate. A minion foolish enough to have slept with the lord of the manor. It was a discouraging thought.

Natasha signed for the soil delivery for the new grow boxes for the pollinator garden. The vineyard composted all the vine cuttings and kitchen scraps as well as the skins, pulp and seeds from the winemaking activities, but she needed soil right away and the Casa’s compost wasn’t ready.

She started shoveling the new soil into a wheelbarrow.

“Hey, Natasha,” Tammy said as she walked up behind her. “Meet your new assistant. This is Enrique.”

Enrique was working for
her
?

“I heard from the grapevine that you were starting today.” She offered her hand. “Thanks again for helping me move last week.”

Tammy elbowed her. “Pun intended, right?”

Natasha had never understood the concept of puns.

“Looks like you could use a hand,” Enrique said.

“I’ll leave you two to it. Oh… Adrian’s cousin Alana is coming by. You’re not the only person in the county obsessed with butterflies and bees.”

Natasha put Enrique to work shoveling the soil into the boxes. With him helping, she could focus on the planting. But as she began to tease the transplants apart, the door to the kitchen banged open and a woman with tanned legs and a broad-brimmed hat walked out, followed by a stunningly beautiful woman in high-heeled designer sandals. Natasha recognized her from the day she’d gone to Tyler’s ballgame at Trovare but couldn’t recall her name. Adrian’s sister Coco took up the rear of the procession. There must be something in the water that created such beauties. Or the genes. Yeah, it was the genes. All three women had broad smiles like Adrian’s. He should smile more often.
She
should stop thinking about him so often.

The tallest of the women, the one she recognized from the ballgame, marched over.

“I’m Adrian’s cousin Alana,” she said with an airy confidence Natasha already envied. “You must be Natasha.”

“Hello.” Beauty sometimes made Natasha speechless.

“Natasha’s done amazing things here already,” Coco said. “Just look at these.” She fingered a buddleia. “What
are
these?”

The third woman looked up from under the brim of her hat. If Natasha hadn’t known better, she’d have thought she was hallucinating. The woman looked exactly like Coco. She smiled the warm, charming smile that Natasha was beginning to recognize as a Tavonesi trait.

“I’m Anastasia. They usually keep me locked in a tower in the back.”

Alana laughed. Coco didn’t.

“She knows precisely
nothing
about plants,” Coco said in her bright Italian accent. “Do not take any advice from her.”

Natasha heard Adrian’s inflection in his sisters’ voices. And really, really didn’t want a simple cadence and a familiar accent to stir up longing in her. But her body had a mind of its own, and the longing stretched out into full-blown yearning for the man who’d sneaked under her guard.

“And neither do you,” Alana said with a good-natured wink. “These two are photographing my native plants for a book I’m putting together.” She patted a portfolio she held. “I’d like your advice, if you can spare the time. And I’d like to get some starts of the native purple lupine from you. Adrian said you had some going. They’re hard to find and even harder to keep alive.”

That Adrian remembered the comment she’d made about her plans for the native garden and the starts she had already managed to get going astonished her.

Natasha wiped her hands on her jeans. “I’d be happy to help, but I’m not an expert.”

“According to my
very
picky brother, you are,” Anastasia said.

“Let’s go up to my photography studio,” Coco said. “I have snacks, and we can discuss the photos in comfort.”

Natasha gave a few instructions to Enrique. She’d been aware of him staring at the group of women, but no one could blame him. It was as though models from a runway show had been airdropped into the Casa’s kitchen garden.

She followed the troupe of beauties up a path to a two-story cottage-like building nestled among oaks and bordered by a small stream. Alana navigated the rough path in her high-heeled sandals with a deftness Natasha couldn’t imagine managing. Even in her sturdy work boots, she had to pay attention so she didn’t stumble.

Coco’s studio was like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine. Cream-colored walls and huge picture windows made the most of the stunning Sonoma light. Equipment of all sorts was positioned around the room. Light towers, cameras on tripods and draped cloths made the room look like it was waiting for a pageant to materialize.

“Oh, this guy is hot!” Alana said as she surveyed a row of photos spread on a counter near a large computer screen. She turned to Coco. “You’ve been holding out on us.” She held up a photo of a shirtless man with a length of fire hose draped over one shoulder and a helmet tucked under his arm. The bronzed, perfectly ripped muscles of his torso and his flashy white smile made him look like a god ready to rush out and save the world.

“Those are just studies. Wait till you see the real thing. I’m doing my first real shoot next week.” She frowned. “If Alex wasn’t such a
retrogrado
, I’d have the guys from the team posing.”

“He’s a realist,” Anastasia said. “You should take Zoe’s practical advice and look for other models. Men who aren’t so famous.”

“Fame sells,” Alana said as she replaced the photo on the counter. “I agree with Coco. If this calendar is to raise buckets of money to fund the Inspire programs, she’ll need men who are in the spotlight.”

At the mention of Inspire, Natasha felt heat creep up her face. Coco knew she’d lived at the homeless shelter.

Mermaid
, the voice that tormented Natasha whispered.
You don’t belong here
.
These are not your people.

Surrounded by the gorgeous setting, by the gorgeous Tavonesis, she felt the gap that taunted her widen. Why couldn’t she have fallen for a guy from her own small pond? She glanced at Coco.

“One day, people will realize that I know more about life than they think.” Coco winked at Natasha. A subtle, barely perceptible wink. Why Adrian’s sister kept her secret, she didn’t know.

The women oohed over Coco’s photos of flowers and plants with the enthusiasm they’d shown for the shots of the bare-chested men strewn around the room. Natasha harnessed her racing thoughts and focused. Photos were easy for her. She had no troubled helping to select the best shots of native plants for Alana’s book.

Just as she started to excuse herself and make her way back to her work, Coco tapped her on the arm and handed her a large print of the rolling Sonoma hills. She recognized the scene. It was the view from Adrian’s living room window.