Tasting Notes (8 page)

He was not in control of his body. He pulled a quick intake of breath as the space between them evaporated. He was close enough that he could feel the crackle of electricity between them, as tangible as if West was statically charged. One more slight movement and Rush’s lips would brush across West’s.

“Fine, I’ll help,” Rush said, knowing West could feel his breath as he spoke.

“But this doesn’t mean I like you,” Rush growled.

“Understood,” West replied. “I don’t like you either.”

“As long as we’re clear.”

WEST’S HEAD
was reeling, and it sure as shit wasn’t the lingering effects of the wine from the night before. It was difficult to make heads or tails of what almost happened, but a small part of him didn’t want to try.

He didn’t understand. Rush barged in like a bear with a bee sting, all ornery and truculent one minute and then crowding into West’s space the next. Not that he could complain about that last part. For a moment, he could imagine what kissing Rush would be like, all that power and passion focused on him. It made him dizzy. Most of West’s dalliances had been civilized, dancing along the border between lackluster and completely dull.

But it wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. And he didn’t want it to. He was still trying to convince himself that getting involved with Rush was a terrible idea when Rush lumbered off in the opposite direction from the door. West followed a moment later to find Rush in the kitchen, bent over inspecting the contents of the fridge. West took a moment to conduct an inspection of his own before asking, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting rid of your hangover. We have work to do.”

“I’m not—”

But Rush ignored him. He was busy pulling ingredients out of the fridge that should never ever end up in the same vessel. West cursed himself for not cleaning out the fridge after Charlotte and Jim moved out. He supposed they left food for him, knowing he wouldn’t have anything, but right now the thought of raw eggs, Worcestershire sauce, and Tabasco had his stomach turning over in terror.

Thinking about it, West realized it was actually kind of sweet, Rush trying to help him feel better. Maybe it was a sign he wasn’t going to move forward with such volatility as he had in the few encounters they had before. But when Rush rummaged through the cupboard and pulled down the bottle of whiskey, it was enough for West to protest. Loudly.

“I’m not drinking that,” he said.

“The whiskey’s for me, not you. If I’m spending the day with you, I’m doing it with a buzz.”

“Who said you’re spending the day with me?”

“I did. I’m not letting you fuck this up, so tighten your bonnet strings, dickhead. You’re going to get an education today.” Rush thrust a glass containing everything but the whiskey into West’s hand. “Drink this. I’ll make breakfast, and then we’re going to get to work.”

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be?” West asked, not entirely certain he wanted to be spending the day with Rush after all.

“Nope. Lucky for you, you’ve got my undivided attention today.”

“Yes, lucky me,” West muttered under his breath.

IT WASN’T
long before West and Rush were sitting down to a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. West had to admit having something in his belly did make him feel better, and after he swallowed the vile concoction Rush mixed up for him, he needed something to settle his stomach.

They ate in silence, Casper at their feet, the tension between them building as breakfast wore on. West still didn’t understand Rush’s problem with him, and right now he wasn’t sure whether he was grateful for the help. He supposed he had asked for it, but it wasn’t exactly given freely out of the kindness of Rush’s heart. West felt as though there might be strings attached. Attached to what, he wasn’t certain yet.

When they finished eating, Rush took both their plates and loaded everything into the dishwasher.

“Thank you, and thank you for breakfast,” West said.

“It was nothing. I don’t want to have to catch you if you pass out on me.”

“You offering that is certainly a change. I would have thought you’d let me fall on the floor.”

“It wasn’t an offer, and I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

West nodded.

“Get dressed. We have shit to do,” Rush grumbled.

WEST SHOWERED
and dressed quickly, not wanting to make Rush wait longer than he needed to. The rebellious twelve-year-old boy that resided in his head tempted him to dawdle, to push Rush’s buttons to see how he would react. A small part of West thought he’d like very much to see Rush ruffled. He didn’t think it was something that happened often. Rush seemed like the unflappable type, a challenge that perked West right up.

But for now, he resigned himself to behaving. Rush was there to help him, after all.

When he was ready, he walked back down the hall to find Rush on the floor with his dog. Casper was jumping over him, side to side, and Rush was rolling back and forth, pretending to try to catch him. It was endearing, actually, to see him like that. West didn’t understand the pang that hit him in the gut, but it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling.

He cleared his throat. “Ready.”

“About goddamn time,” Rush said, jumping up from the floor and grabbing his jacket. “What were you doing in there? This isn’t a modeling shoot I’m taking you on.”

“I’m going to take that to mean you think I look good. So thank you,” West said.

Rush growled something under his breath and wrenched the door open. West’s mind conjured an image of a giant smashing his way through a tiny village. There was nothing graceful or subtle about the way Rush moved through life, barreling forward, pulling everything down in his wake. West was in awe of the raw power that seemed to seep from him.

Rush ushered him out, Casper bringing up the rear as he led him along a path down the side of the house.

“We start first with the basics. I’m assuming you didn’t do any sort of research into how to run a vineyard before you decided you just had to have one,” Rush said, the last few words uttered in a mocking tone.

“Not exactly.”

“Did my parents give you a tour of the property before you signed the papers?”

“They gave me a tour of the house… and part of the winery, but not of the grounds, no.”

“Okay, then we start at the top and work our way down. Then you’re probably going to want to change your clothes, because there’s work to do, and you’re going to get your fancy pants dirty.”

West looked down at what he was wearing. A pair of jeans and a navy blue Henley didn’t seem all that fancy to him. In fact, Rush was wearing something similar. He opened his mouth to make a smartass remark but thought better of it.

“I’m okay in this,” he said. He didn’t want to mention what he had on was the most casual thing he owned. He could keep his mouth shut. He was sure of it. He needed the help, and more than that, he wanted to learn. Why he wanted to learn from Rush, a man who got under his skin like no one ever had, was beyond him.

Rush set off, walking along the path that led up the hill behind the house. They walked along the rows and rows of grapevines, and West was caught up in the beauty of it. They weren’t far from civilization. In fact, if he looked closely, he could almost make out the red Dairy Queen sign in the distance. Almost. But he felt like they had slipped away into their own little world. The vineyard backed onto the forest, and between the wild vegetation and the cultivated vines, West felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

Rush showed him the irrigation lines and where the end of the property was. From the top of the hill, he felt powerful. The view was breathtaking. The vines spread out in front of him, fanning across the landscape and leading down to the main buildings that were clustered together like their own little hamlet. Despite the fact that they were only on the cusp of spring, there was a lushness to the land. Every day it reminded him more and more of the vineyard his grandfather took him to. If he really imagined, he could picture his parents walking up between rows of vines, his mom in her wedding dress and his dad in a suit.

West mentally shook himself free of the memories. It wouldn’t do any good to get choked up in front of Rush.

“Why are there different plants at the end of each row?” West asked, focusing on something else.

“I’m surprised you noticed they were different.”

West shot him an unimpressed look, which Rush didn’t seem to notice.

“Those are rose bushes. They’re extremely susceptible to mildew, so they act as the canary warning system. If they get sick, you know there’s a problem.”

“That makes sense.”

“It’s simple but effective, and it really jazzes up the place, don’t you think?”

Was that a joke?
Had the Hulk cracked a joke? West smiled and nodded.

“Most of the work you’re going to need to take on in the coming months is going to take place out here in the upper vineyard and down in the lower one. We’re right in the middle of budbreak right now, so your main job is going to be keeping the area around the vines clear. You’ll need to mow every two weeks and till the soil, and now is the time that the wildlife starts to become a problem, so there’s that to deal with too.”

West conjured up an image of mowing the entire property with the same kind of push mower he used when he was a kid to take care of his grandfather’s yard. He remembered how long it took him to trim the front and back yards. Mowing the entire vineyard was going to take him all week.

“Come on. I’ll show you where they keep the heavy equipment.”

“Heavy equipment?”

“Yeah, they use a John Deere mower and tiller.”

West exhaled a sigh of relief. Rush stopped and turned to look at him.

“I’m assuming you’ve never mowed a lawn before. I’ll have to teach you that too.”

“I have too,” West said, aware his words made him sound like a petulant child. He stopped himself before he added “and you’re not the boss of me.”

Rush actually looked surprised, and West felt a sudden stab of pride for having broken one of the preconceived notions he seemed to have about him.

“I used to mow my grandfather’s lawn, but I’ve never used a ride-on mower.”

Rush shrugged. “It’s fairly simple. If you can drive a car and you’re not an idiot, this shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“Uh, thanks. I think.”

They came to two of the large outbuildings behind the main house in the center of the property. They were twins, standing next to one another, and were constructed from wood, old wood by the looks of it, grayed and weathered with age. They were both at least two stories high, the roofs entirely covered in grasses, but the structures looked solid.

“The one on the left is the barn, and the one on the right is the bottle cellar,” Rush said. He inserted a key into the lock and slid the door to the bottle cellar open. The interior was functional, with boxes of empty bottles stacked floor to ceiling on all sides. They were separated and labeled by type, the sections clearly marked off. The floor looked like it was made of reclaimed hardwood. There was a feeling of deep nostalgia about the place, even if it was unlike anywhere West had set foot before.

“Look at this,” Rush said, stepping into the center of the room and crouching.

There in the floor was a latch of some kind West hadn’t noticed upon first glance. Rush tugged hard and pulled open the hatch in the middle of the room.

“WHAT’S DOWN
there?” West asked.

“Come look,” Rush said, stepping back so West could walk past him, carefully treading down the steps that were set into the floor.

He watched, waiting for the reaction. He wasn’t disappointed. The expression on West’s face changed as he took in the surroundings in the cellar. The back wall was floor-to-ceiling shelves that held row after row of bottles. Librarian-style ladders permitted access to the higher stores. All along the walls were deep-set alcoves, accessible through arched stone doorways, and inside were even more shelves set into the walls. Everything was lit by lights that hung from the ceiling, giving it an intimate feeling. He had to admit, it was quite impressive.

“This is incredible,” West said.

“Yeah, my dad’s pretty proud of it. He designed it a few years back. He said he wanted a sophisticated wine collector’s Batcave.”

“I’d say that’s what he got.”

Rush nodded, remembering how he watched the excitement build as Jim explained how amazing it was going to be. His vision translated even better into real life than he imagined it, and when it was finished, Rush thought it was one of the coolest places he’d been.

“It looks rustic, but it’s temperature and humidity controlled,” Rush said, repeating Jim’s words.

West took some time to really look around the place.

“I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that this is mine now,” West said, his voice a little dreamy.

Rush bristled at that, the realization the building his dad was so proud of no longer belonged to him, but he’d be damned if West hadn’t become slightly less annoying during the morning they spent together. He managed to keep his mouth shut at least.

They finished the tour of the cellars, then headed next door to take a look inside the barn. It was much less spectacular, housing heavy equipment and farming supplies rather than elegant architectural details and hidden spaces, but it was necessary for West to know his way around it.

He spent time explaining how each piece of equipment worked and what it was used for, and as the morning wore on, he was surprised to find he was much less irritated about the whole scenario than he had anticipated. He was enjoying himself, much to his surprise.

“That’s it for the tour of the vineyard side of it. There’s a lot more to the winery side, but you won’t need to know much until after the harvest.”

“When does that happen?” West asked.

“Not until early fall.”