Once Tasted: A Silver Creek Novel (7 page)

The thought made her stomach churn with embarrassment. She told herself this was nothing new. Reid had never liked her. She still remembered Jay describing
how Reid had laughed his head off while Jay read the pages from her diary.

“How about it, Mia? Will you do the Bodell Family Vineyard proud for me?”

She lifted her chin and shot Reid a look of cool dislike. She’d do anything for her uncle. She’d even give a talk to a bunch of strangers. “Of course I will.”

“Well, that’s settled.” Thomas rubbed his hands together in satisfaction, while Mia and Reid each pretended the other didn’t exist. “So, what wines will you introduce to the ladies? We’ll let them taste our 2009, of course.”

“That would be a treat,” Reid said.

Thomas nodded. “What other Pinot Noirs could we use to compare?”

“None can compare in terms of quality–price ratio,” Mia said.

“Red Leaf Vineyard’s 2010 vintage has a nice balance and is priced fairly reasonably,” Reid countered.

“Crescent Ridge’s is superior,” she stated. Moreover, Crescent Ridge Vineyard was where Andrew Schroeder worked. She could get some bottles from him and suggest a date.

“I’d prefer you introduce them to the smaller vineyards located around Mendocino. Sonoma and Napa hardly need the promotion.”

“Good point, Reid,” Thomas said before Mia could rebut. “It’s too bad our 2012 vintage won’t be ready.” He gestured at the empty glasses. “The wine will need time to recover after bottling. But guess what, Mia? Reid’s preordered a hundred cases.”

With anyone else, Mia would have flown across the porch and hugged the person. She crossed her arms over her chest. “A smart investment.”

“I buy wine to please our restaurant’s diners, not as an investment.”

“It’s a decision you won’t regret,” Thomas said.

“Of course I won’t.”

“Well, we can’t thank you enough, Reid. For everything.”

Everything?
Why did Thomas owe Reid gratitude for anything? Sure, Reid had placed an order for a lot of wine, but, then again, he was no stranger to the quality of their grape. And why had Reid’s eyes darkened, a storm clouding their vivid blue, when her uncle thanked him? The tension she’d noticed in him earlier—well, it was back.

Something had the laid-back cowboy on edge. And he seemed none too happy about it.

As if aware of her scrutiny, Reid pushed off the railing and straightened. “I’ve got to go, Thomas. Call me if you need anything.”

“I think we’ve gone over everything I need.”

For a moment Reid simply looked at her uncle. “Remember what I said.”

Her uncle smiled. “I will.”

As Mia frowned in confusion at their exchange, Reid bent and scooped up his hat from where it sat by the leg of her chair. Settling it over his brow, he nodded in her direction. “A pleasure as always, Mia.”

He would never be so formal or so quietly cutting toward any of the women who fawned over him. But before Mia could reply with something suitably sarcastic to remind him how little his opinion mattered, he strode past her, giving her a front-row seat to the spectacle of his long legs and tight butt. Any words flew right out of her head.

Then he was down the porch steps and untying his horse, his movements filled with fluid, athletic grace, something she had in woefully short supply.

Placing the toe of his boot in the stirrup, Reid swung himself easily into the saddle and then wheeled his
horse in a tight circle, urging him into a trot. Even from the back he was stunning. Tall and proud in the saddle, Reid was a perfect match for the glorious animal moving like quicksilver beneath him.

A weaker woman would have sighed aloud.

R
EID STOOD OUTSIDE
the round pen and watched his sister, Quinn, work with Tucker, a horse she’d adopted this past spring. Quinn had been at the rescue center to pick up another horse—Glory, a sweet-natured gray whose owner had been forced to give him up—but then she’d spotted Tucker.

Few things were as heartbreaking as the neglect and cruelty inflicted on animals by humans. So of course Quinn had come home with two horses. Glory had already begun working as a trail horse for the guest ranch’s riders. He was getting rave reviews. Tucker was a different story. When he’d arrived at Silver Creek, the chestnut had been half starved, beaten, and scared out of his equine mind.

The change in him over the course of these last five months was impressive, and all due to Quinn.

Through solid work and endless patience, Quinn had reached the stage where Tucker not only accepted the hackamore, a bitless bridle, he had even allowed her to climb onto his back. For an abused horse like Tucker, his acceptance showed an extraordinary degree of trust. Naturally, he was still skittish. The session today had started with sidestepping, hopping, and breaking—the
gelding surging into a nervous run—but Quinn in the saddle was as calm and easy as she was on the ground. She flowed, supple and quiet.

Tucker had slowly settled.

By now only his ears and tail twitched, signaling his hyper-alertness. Quinn’s heart must be bursting with pride for the horse’s courage. Reid’s, too, was full, but for his sister. Earning the trust of another being, especially one that had been badly hurt, was an amazing accomplishment.

Not everyone had Quinn’s gift. Reid wondered whether he could succeed even nearly as well. Of course, the creature whose trust he needed to gain was of the two-legged variety.

As had happened all too often this week, Reid’s thoughts turned to Mia. He didn’t want to be thinking about her. He already felt bad about the tough breaks she’d had in life and regretted his involvement in Jay’s public humiliation of her. Now, because of his mother, father, and Thomas Bodell, his conscience was even heavier.

It was Thursday, the day before Mia was due to come and give her wine talk to the guests, and he couldn’t stop wondering how she was handling the news Thomas was doubtless delivering with all the subtlety of a one–two punch. Wondering and worrying.

For Christ’s sake, Mia thought Thomas was suffering from insomnia, something exercise or a change of diet might cure. How would she react to hearing that his condition required more than a glass of warm milk before bed? That the remedy for love with a capital “L” was to let him follow his heart to the South of France?

Thomas wanted to believe that the prospect of running the vineyard and winery would be enough to make Mia happy.

Reid didn’t buy it. If his parents up and announced
their intention to move to New Zealand or Timbuktu, it would come as a hell of a shock. But he would be okay because he had Ward and Quinn to rely on. He had family.

Mia had a royal jackass of a cousin.

And, thanks to his parents’ decision to invest in the Bodells’ winery, she had Reid.

He didn’t think Mia would see that as a bonus. Not in a million years.

He’d spent this week studying the angles, then stepping back to look at the bigger picture. From what he could see, his advising Mia on how to increase the winery’s profits and market visibility had the hallmark of a disaster. When she found out he’d been tagged as her business adviser, she’d spit in his eye. An admittedly easy prediction, since that had been her MO every time she got within spitting distance.

The problem was, Reid didn’t like failing. At anything. In this he was very much a Knowles. He wasn’t the type to walk away from a job, either. So he was going to have to figure out a way to get Mia to agree to follow his advice. To trust him somehow.

“Hey, Reid. How did Roland go for you?” Quinn asked.

He looked up to find that his sister had dismounted and was standing next to Tucker. “Good,” he said. “You’ve done a nice job working with him. His transitions are a lot smoother.” Just as Ward had exercised Sirrus for Reid while he was down in South Carolina, Quinn had ridden some of the youngsters Reid was bringing along, among them Roland, a flashy liver chestnut. The four-year-old had the makings of an excellent competition horse.

“Whew.” She pushed her straw cowboy hat back and pretended to wipe the sweat from her brow. “From your
expression I wouldn’t have guessed you were happy about anything.”

No surprise that he’d been frowning while he thought about Mia. Few women were as frustrating as she.

“What are you talking about?” he asked as he opened the gate for her, taking care to move slowly and not spook Tucker.

She waited until it was open wide to pass through with the gelding. “Your scowl,” she said as he fell in step beside her. “Not that it’s new. You’ve been wearing it most of the week. You’ve been as much fun as the grim reaper.”

“I’ve been loads of fun,” he contradicted.

“Hardly. Even Maebeth Krohner noticed. She cornered me this morning by the mailboxes. She’s worried you didn’t dance enough at The Drop the other night. What gives? Are you still angry with Mom and Dad? And what’s that all about?”

“It’s nothing. Just a little disagreement.” On Tuesday Adele and Daniel had met with Thomas and their respective lawyers. Papers had been signed to both parties’ satisfaction. But until he had word from Thomas that Mia was aware of the deal between the families, Reid was keeping his lips sealed.

“Oh, sure. ‘Just a little disagreement.’ ” Quinn rolled her eyes. “I can’t remember when I’ve seen you storm into Dad’s office and slam the door behind you—and on your first day home, too.” She made a
tsk
ing sound.

“The wind probably caught the door. I had stuff to say in private.”

“And you must’ve read Mom the riot act. I went in after you’d stomped out. She was standing by the window and didn’t turn around, but I could tell she was upset. Her chin was wobbling.…”

Oh Jesus, he thought. He’d been good and pissed at both his parents for not giving him at least a heads-up
about their negotiations with Thomas, but he hadn’t intended to make his mother cry.

They’d apologized, of course, his father explaining that they’d held off finalizing the deal with Thomas Bodell because they’d wanted Reid to be on board with it. He was the logical choice to oversee the management end of the vineyard. Thomas had asked to make the pitch to Reid himself. Since both Daniel and Adele sensed how important it was to Thomas, they’d agreed.

Their explanation had gone some ways toward calming Reid down. He understood why they hadn’t wanted to pass up such an investment opportunity. With the proper business strategy, their stake in the winery could open up possibilities for the guest ranch, too. He could already envision them.

Devising ways to increase the winery’s profits while preserving its quirky boutique charm would be a challenge for him but one he thought he had a successful shot at. If he could figure out a way to work with Mia.

And that was a big if.

With a start, he realized his sister was still talking.

“…  but then the next time I peeked into Dad’s office, Mom and he were smooching. Then they left, saying they were heading up to the house—most likely to indulge in some afternoon delight—so all’s well that ends well. Which means you can stop looking so guilty.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Not if it means missing a chance to bug you or Ward,” Quinn replied with an angelic smile.

They walked toward the corral, Reid careful to maintain his distance from the horse. Tucker still trusted only Quinn. Men in particular frightened him. Easy to guess what gender of shithead had taken a whip to him.

“I’ve been thinking—” he began.

“No!” At the look he shot her, she shrugged. “Okay. Spill. What were you thinking about?”

“Stuff.”

They’d reached the far end of the corral, away from the barns and the mill of ranch hands and guests coming to inquire about trail rides and private lessons. It was where Quinn liked to groom and tack Tucker.

“Stuff, huh? That’s deep.”

He bit back a smile. Damn, he liked his kid sister. “Yeah. Listen.” He hooked his booted foot on the bottom rail and swept his gaze over Harper and Bristol, the two geldings Quinn had selected as Tucker’s pasture buddies. Good choices. Bristol and Harper could make a pair of sloths look hyper. He glanced back at his sister. “Be nice to Mia, okay?”

She turned, and the look on her face implied that he was a few cells short of a brain. “I
am
nice to Mia. She’s a friend and one of the more sensible women in Acacia. Oh, wait! It’s all becoming clear. This sudden need to chew the cud has to do with her. Are you worried about the wine tasting tomorrow?”

That, and a few dozen other problems looming on the horizon. “We have some forty-odd women coming to have a good time. Mia’s not exactly known for being a barrel of laughs.”

“Not true.”

He raised his brows.

“Okay,” she admitted. “She’s not Tina Fey, but Mia’s a really good egg. And she’s a freakin’ encyclopedia when it comes to wine, which is kind of relevant. I heard Mom telling Tess she hoped Mia would want to do the talk. Once she recovered from the tongue-lashing you gave her, I could see she was really happy that Mia had agreed. Have you noticed she’s been singing Julio Iglesias songs?”

“Always a bad sign. And that’s not singing when Mom does it.” She had lousy taste in music. The schmaltzier, the better. Since telling his parents what he
thought of their negotiating deals that involved him without bothering to let him in on the details, Reid had been keeping his distance by staying in the saddle and steering clear of the main lodge and its back offices. The upshot was that he’d missed his mother’s happy warbling—so, yes, there was a God.