A Very Daring Christmas (The Tavonesi Series Book 8) (15 page)

He pulled over at a roadside stand selling cider, bought a gallon and returned to his car. After driving miles out into open country, he slugged down a few swallows and called Aderro.

“Heard your rotten news,” Jake said when Aderro answered.

“Developers pulled strings and greased palms. They bought the land to put in another new luxury hotel. Just what we need—more water guzzlers flying down here.”

Jake had never heard bitterness in his friend’s voice before. “How long do you have before they boot the academy?”

“Four months. But the real reason I called was to thank you.”

“Huh?”

“For the money. It’ll fund ten more kids for the full four years. And before you go thinking you’ll rag on your accountant, the funds did come anonymously. But I’m a genius. Thought you knew that.”

Jake laughed.

But even a walk down the deserted country road didn’t ease his mind after ending the call. Aderro had worked too hard to lose the academy. The kids needed the program.

He stopped to pee near a bush at the end of the road. A whimper from under the bush had him dropping to his knees. A small brown ball of matted fur twitched and backed away from him. He held out his hand, and the dog cautiously sniffed. Moving slowly, he gently lifted the pup. He felt ribs and spine under his fingers. The animal probably hadn’t eaten for days. Who the hell would leave a dog out here to starve to death? There hadn’t been a house for miles. Resigned, he sat the pup beside him in the truck.

As he pulled up in front of his mother’s hairdresser’s salon, he dialed Tony. And left him a message. He’d meet with the Nike guys. He could do something with a fast million. Something good.

His mother wasn’t smiling as she exited the salon.

“Don’t like the hairdo?”

“Oh honey, my hair’s fine. What I have left of it.”

“So?”

She backed away from the truck. “What is
that
?”

“A dog. I found him out on some back road. He’s starving.”

“No dogs, Jake. I still haven’t gotten over Missy. I can’t have any more heartbreak.”

Peter’s tragic death had shaken them all up, but his mother had been the strong one. Yet when her dog died, it hadn’t mattered that the collie had lived to a ripe seventeen years. She’d lost it. All the held-back grief for his brother had come pouring out alongside her sadness over losing Missy.

“We’ll just get him some food,” Jake offered. “Then we can find him a home.”

“You are
not
sticking me with a dog, young man. I still have that—that
fish
your sister left behind. The things live ten years.”

He laughed. The hardy plecostomus actually could live for fifteen years, but now was no time to break that news. “I’ll find him a home, I promise.”

She grimaced and scooted up onto the seat next to the puppy. The puppy licked her hand. By the time Jake pulled away from the curb, she had him on her lap.

“You didn’t tell me what upset you in the salon.”

“I’ll show you when we get home.”

Show him? “Did she shave your neck or something?”

She shifted the puppy into her other arm. “When we get home, Jake.”

Once in his mom’s kitchen, the pup lapped up water like he hadn’t had a drink in days.

“He’s got the biggest brown eyes,” Jake said to his mom as she took some chicken off the bone and fed it to the pup.

“He’s yours.”

“No way.”

“I know when my son is smitten. I’ll fly out and bring him to you when we get back from Rome. He’ll need shots before he can travel. My neighbor Jessie has one of those fancy boarding places. She’ll take good care of him until your dad and I return.”

“I don’t need a dog.” But he had to admit the little rascal had already won his heart. When had he gotten so soft?

His mom plunked a magazine on the table. “Thought maybe you should see this.”

The photo of him locked in the embrace with Cameron took up the entire cover. “I’ve seen it.”

“Well, I’m sorry, hon. Must be tough living in the public eye.”

Her tone was likely meant to be comforting, but all it did was set off alarms. He flipped to the article. More photos of Cameron, two of him, one shirtless at the surf contest. He flipped back to the front. Read the headline—
Cameron Boots the Ballplayer
.

Great. He read the rest of the article. Two lines about Dominia and a hundred lines of pure bullshit. Or maybe it wasn’t. The veins in his neck pounded out his building anger as he kept reading.

Inside sources report that Jake Ryder was just a notch in her belt. She’s moving on. “I’d never fall for a ballplayer. I want a regular guy. Not a puffed-up star.”

“It’s too bad they report all that trash,” his mom said as she patted his shoulder. “And too bad they couldn’t say more about those kids in Dominia. Now that, that’s interesting. You didn’t say much about it in your emails.”

Flustered, he told his mom about his trip. About the kids and Aderro’s academy. About the bateyes and the Water for Life project. And very little about Cameron. His mom didn’t probe, and he was grateful. He wasn’t ready to admit how much real estate Cameron had taken up in his heart.

The next day as he flew back to San Francisco, the words still burned him.
A notch in her belt
. Maybe that was what he was. And so what? Fine. He couldn’t believe he was letting a tabloid article get to him. Letting her get to him.

But the scar tissue from his days with Scarlett Lee had flamed up, and the similarities wouldn’t be talked away by reason.

When the plane landed, he headed for the bar nearest the gate and ordered a double whiskey. The liquid burned down his throat, and he relaxed for the first time that day. At least he had a couple weeks ahead with Alex and the prospect of smacking as many balls as he wanted in a batting cage. Having a bat in his hands would heal what ailed him. Baseball never failed to help him get his perspective back.

The next evening the sun was slipping behind the Sonoma hills when Jake turned off onto the tree-lined drive leading to Trovare. The flight back to San Francisco had been smooth, and the highways on his drive north miraculously uncrowded. But his mind ran a tape of chatter that was anything but smooth. Time in the country would help him sort himself out. He wasn’t going to let memories of her, thoughts about her, spoil his vacation.

Unlike his last visit, this time an iron gate blocked the drive about a hundred yards down the single-lane road. Vines and leaves had been forged and twined up the length of the gate, but there was no mistaking the high-security message.

He rummaged in his gear bag for his cellphone to call Alex and cursed. He’d left it in the charger at his apartment. Maybe his subconscious was working overtime to help him leave the razz of the world behind.

He rolled his car forward and then saw the high-tech steel call box. He lowered his window and pushed the button, relieved to hear Alex’s voice answer.

“Don’t mind the gate,” Alex said. “It’s my Christmas present to Sabrina—keeps the riffraff photographers out. I’m buzzing you in. It’ll close automatically behind you.”

Alex met him on the paved stones in front of the castle. Sabrina came dashing down the steps leading from the drawbridge to the parking area. Even in riding pants and a simple white shirt, she looked like a movie star. Was there something in the drinking water in Hollywood that made women look like goddesses?

“Jake, I thought you’d
never
get up here,” she said as she hugged him. She backed away and shot him what could only be called a Cheshire-cat smile.

“Hadn’t known you were waiting.” Despite his delight at seeing her, unease licked in him. He had a sister, so he knew when something was up. “Am I missing something here?”

Sabrina’s smile broadened. “We’re just happy to see you.”

Though he didn’t want to admit it, Sabrina’s smile brought the thoughts about Cameron that he’d been fighting to keep at bay crashing back in. He shot Alex a gaze that demanded the truth.

Alex raised a brow. “If I worried about what this one was up to, I’d never sleep. And with Coco around, it’s worse. Two peas in a pod. But let’s get you settled in. Dinner’s at seven tonight. Country hours.”

He’d never have believed that a castle could be called homey, but as Jake sat at the table that night with Alex and Sabrina, he felt more at home than he had anywhere in years. The two of them had an ease about them that, if it could have been bottled, would probably have led to world peace. And he was grateful neither of them brought up the tabloid article. Hell, maybe they hadn’t seen it. It’d be old news by now. People would move on to the new flavor of the week. And that sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.

After dinner, Jake followed Alex through the Great Hall and down the stone stairs to the game room to shoot pool.

“Are others coming up?” Jake asked as Alex touched a place in the stone wall and the door concealing the game room swung open.

“Loads. Maybe a few cousins and a couple of Sabrina’s friends. But there’s plenty of room. And Kaz should be here before Christmas. He’s looking forward to taking you on in Ryan’s batting cage. But you’ll have to ask Sabrina if you want details, or my mother when she returns in a couple of days. I’ve been swamped with the vineyard this past week, and guest lists are the last thing on my mind.”

He handed Jake a pool cue. “You should play with one hand behind your back if I’m to have any chance of winning back what I lost to you last time.”

“If I remember correctly, I beat you by one ball.”

“That’s enough for me. Losing’s not in my blood.”

“Right there with you.” Jake chalked the pool cue and felt the muscles in his shoulders relax. A good challenge always helped sort him out.

Chapter Eleven

After a quick breakfast the next morning, Jake headed down to the new barn near the western edge of the Trovare vineyards to meet Parker Tavonesi for a morning ride.

“I haven’t been on a horse in over a year,” Jake said as he saddled the dark thoroughbred.

“I was just glad to hear you like to ride,” Parker said. “It’s impossible to pull Alex away from the vineyard biz at this time of year. But, hey, we all have our passions. If I go a day without riding, claustrophobia starts clawing at me.”

How anyone could feel claustrophobic in the Sonoma countryside was beyond Jake. The mountains and hills were greening up with the early winter rains and stretched for miles. The vastness reminded him of his early days on his uncle’s farm in the foothills of North Carolina. His uncle had taught him to ride. But the horse he was about to mount was probably worth more than all of his uncle’s land and livestock put together.

“I thought we’d head up toward Taylor Park. The new trails lead to vistas that will blow your mind.” Parker held up two saddlebags. “I brought some grub.”

Jake’s stomach rumbled. Parker had a reputation for providing great food. Grub to Parker was probably a feast to anyone else.

They rode the winding trails through oak forests and ancient and spreading bay trees. Some of the tension that had riddled him for the past month eased up. They stopped at a spring-fed stream to let the horses drink before heading farther up the mountain. After about an hour they came out on a plateau that offered a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree vista. A crescent sliver of San Francisco Bay sparkled in the south, and the deep blue of the Pacific reached toward the horizon in the west.

“I may never leave California,” Jake said.

“Why on earth would you?”

“Depends. My contract’s up. I’ll know in the next few weeks if the Giants renew it.”

“You can’t possibly have doubts about them keeping you; I’ve seen you play. And I’ve heard what Alex has to say.”

But he did have doubts. Sure, his stats were good, bordering on great. But he couldn’t explain to a guy like Parker the doubts that scrapping all your life for every achievement could plant, and plant deep.

“There are plenty of guys with good chops in the game.”

Parker stopped unloading containers of food from his saddlebags and eyed him. And then he laughed, surprising Jake.

“Contrary to popular opinion about me, I respect humility. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about life, it’s that if you’ve been given a gift—especially if it’s accompanied by the magic that passion and allurement and attraction fire up—and you respect that gift, the universe will conspire to help you give it back to the world. Your contract’s a sure thing. Trust me.”

His words landed true, spreading in Jake’s blood like an infusion of extra oxygen. This was the side of Parker Tavonesi that baffled Jake. To the outside world, he might read as a carefree, partying rich guy. But with every interaction, Jake saw that Alex’s cousin was so much more than that.

“You’re built for the game,” Jake said. Parker, with his six-foot-four frame loaded with well-honed muscle, would’ve made a great right fielder. Or a pitcher. He had the strength.

“Never got bit by the bug. Alex tried to interest me when we were kids, and I played some Little League. But polo, horses and the thrill of the ride got in me, and I never looked back.”

True to form, Parker had brought food that the finest restaurant would have been proud to serve. Grilled eggplant sandwiches on crusty bread. A melon salad with some sort of herbs. And hand-sized cookies with hunks of chocolate and macadamia nuts.

Jake bit into one of the cookies. And moaned as the flavors of fine chocolate and roasted nuts—and something he couldn’t name but was damn delicious—melded in his mouth. “If I was into guys—or marriage—I’d ask you to marry me. Just for your cooking.”

Parker shrugged. “If I was into guys, maybe I’d consider your proposal, just for your riding skills.” He took a bite of a cookie, stared at it. “Women captivate me. Everything about them. But lately I’ve become convinced they were created to torture me.” He waved the cookie toward Jake. “And if it’s the cookies that inspired you, I didn’t bake them. I bought them from my cousin Adrian’s fiancée. Her boy baked them for a fundraiser. An entrepreneur in the making.”