Let It Breathe (7 page)

“Nothing happened,” Clay blurted.

Reese gave him a startled look. From the corner of his eye, Clay saw Eric shake his head.

“Dude,” Eric said. “I didn’t say a word.”

Clay wanted to climb into an empty wine barrel and stay there until Sunday, but Eric turned away from them as a corner door swung open and Sheila came hustling through.

“Morning, everyone,” she called as she beamed at them. “Reese, honey, where’s the extra TP? I just used the last of it and I don’t want to leave anyone hanging.”

“I’ll get it in a sec, don’t worry about it,” Reese said, stepping forward to give her a hug. “Great shoes!”

Sheila hugged back while Clay stole a glance at Eric, wondering if it was awkward to have his ex-wife and his new wife hugging and chatting about toilet paper. Eric didn’t seem to notice.

“You like?” Sheila asked, tipping her shoe up to give everyone a better view. “I got them at a half-price sale in Portland last week. Aren’t the little flowers just the cutest?”

“I bet they’d go great with your pink sweater,” Reese said.

“Oh, you’re right! I’ll have to try that.”

Reese stepped away and moved toward the wine bar. Clay tried not to watch, hoping like hell Eric and Sheila hadn’t noticed he was having a tough time keeping his eyes off her.

Don’t shit where you eat
. Eric’s words echoed in Clay’s head, making him wince at the crudeness.

“Did you guys see this?” Reese called. “Clay made us a new wine bar.”

Everyone watched as Reese ran her hand over the top of it. Clay resisted the urge to beam with pride as Reese fingered the knots in the bar’s surface.

Jesus, dude—get a grip. She’s just rubbing the wood.

He also resisted the urge to make that comment aloud.

“Pretty,” Sheila cooed.

“We won’t have to use the wine barrels and the board for tastings anymore,” Reese continued. “This one’s bigger, too—we can probably hold half a dozen people now.”

Eric set down the wine case he was carrying and nodded at her. “That’s great.” He turned to Clay. “When did you find time to do that?”

Clay shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Had to do something with my hands.”

“Don’t you get porn on pay-per-view at the motel?”

Clay thought about commenting that he didn’t watch X-rated movies, that it was part of his quest to be a better guy after rehab. Then he felt like a jerk for even
thinking
about porn with Reese standing right there. He wasn’t that kind of guy anymore.

Reese rolled her eyes at them, oblivious to Clay’s inner turmoil. “You guys are such twelve-year-olds. Check it out, see how much sturdier the new bar is?”

She gripped the edges of it and pushed on it the way Clay had done earlier.

But something happened.

One second, she was smiling as she leaned into the bar.

The next, she was toppling forward as the wood gave way.

Clay didn’t think. He just lunged for her, grabbing her hard around the waist as the board came loose and hit the concrete with an angry clatter. She felt warm and soft and dizzyingly perfect in his arms, and he held her tightly, not wanting to let go until he was sure she was safe.

Reese’s mouth opened, then closed without a word.

He slid his hands over her, trying to be professional as he inspected her for damage, but the feeling of her body beneath his palms just made him want to keep touching her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She blinked up at him, her chest rising and falling fast as she opened her mouth again.

No words came out. She looked down at his arm around her waist. Clay released her, feeling embarrassed and aroused at the same time.

Eric stepped between them and put a hand on the bar. “What the hell happened? Was that board not bolted down or something?”

Clay shook his head, still too rattled to form a coherent thought. “No,” Clay said. “No, I’m sure—”

He stopped. Hell, was he sure? He’d been distracted by Reese when he was finishing up. Maybe he hadn’t tightened them all the way. Or maybe the booze really had pickled his brain all those years.

Sheila bent down and picked up a splintered piece of wood. She studied it for a second, then held it up for them to see. “Looks like termites,” she said. “Where’d you get this?”

“Behind the barn,” Clay said. “I didn’t realize—” He stopped as he saw Reese rubbing her elbow. “Are you hurt?”

Again
, his conscience screamed.
She’s hurt
again
because of you.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little bruised. Can the bar be fixed?”

“Termites?” Eric asked, turning to stare at Reese. “There are termites here?”

She sighed. “I’ve got it under control, Eric.”

“You knew about this?” He rolled his eyes. “Were you going to tell me? Jesus, we can’t have a termite-infested winery barn. Are you kidding me?”

“I said I’ve got it under control,” she snapped.

“What, with all-natural pest control again? You’re going to feed them bad tofu or something?”

She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Well, would you rather I have an exterminator spraying God-knows-what chemicals around your precious wine barrels? Besides, once we’ve got the new facility built, it won’t be a problem.”

“When the hell is that going to be?” Eric snapped. “With the bid all fucked up, we could be waiting a long time.”

“Guys, cool it,” Sheila said, stepping between them and resting her hand on her husband’s arm. “Give Reese a break, honey. She just got the stuffing knocked out of her.”

“My fault,” Clay said. “Really, I’m sorry.”

“Forget it,” Reese said. “I’m fine, you’re fine, the bar’s fine. Can it be fixed?”

Clay clenched his jaw and nodded. “Sure, no problem. I can replace that board in just a few minutes.”

Eric grabbed the wrench Clay had left sitting on top of a wine barrel and handed it over. Hell, had he really walked out earlier with his tools lying around like that? He’d been more distracted than he’d realized. He should have noticed the termite damage, should have realized someone—
Reese
—could get hurt.

“You sure you’re okay, Reese?” Eric grumbled. “Looks like you scratched your arm.”

Clay looked up and saw the angry red mark near her elbow. He felt like a jerk all over again.

“I’m fine, really,” Reese insisted. “I’ll just get a Band-Aid.”

Clay picked up the board and thought about kicking something, but figured he’d already done enough damage. The front door of the winery swung open, and Clay looked up to see Jed holding the door open for June. She breezed through with a quick kiss on her husband’s cheek. Jed followed, smiling at his wife as he limped along behind her. When he paused to adjust his junk through his bike shorts, Clay had to look away.

“I fed Leon,” Jed said. “Damn animal butted me in the nuts again.”

“He got me yesterday,” Eric muttered.

“Who’s Leon?” Clay asked.

Eric shook his head. “Asshole alpaca. Reese’s pet. Doesn’t like to hang out with the rest of his herd, so he just stands there by Reese’s place and waits to head-butt men who come near. Does it to every guy he meets except for Axl.”

“Right in the gonads,” Jed added. “Hard.”

June gazed up at him with a look of concern. “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart? That one was a pretty hard hit.”

“It’s fine,” he said, kissing his wife on the forehead. “You’re a nice distraction.”

“Maybe a bubble bath later would help,” she murmured.

“That sounds nice.” He nuzzled her neck. “I call dibs on choosing the music.”

“I call dibs on picking the candles. How about those ginger ones you like?”

“Guys!” Reese interrupted. “Come on, cut it out! I’m right here.”

June laughed and gave her daughter a fond smile. “Oh, Reese. Are you going to do that thing where you put your fingers in your ears and hum?”

“I might if you and dad don’t stop the sexy talk in the middle of the damn barn.”

June’s smile deepened, but she let go of her husband’s arm, grabbing Reese’s arm instead. “Come on, dear. You said you wanted to go over the numbers for the materials to see if we can figure out how to make this LEED thing work. You ready?”

Reese flinched and looked down at the spot her mother clutched just below the elbow. Clay felt guilt pooling in his gut as June held up her daughter’s arm and frowned.

“What did you do, sweetie? That scratch looks awful.”

Reese shrugged. “It’s fine. Just cut it on our new bar.”

“A new bar?” Jed said. He stepped up to admire it, running his hand over one of the wood planks still in place.

Somehow, watching Jed stroke the wood didn’t have the same effect on Clay as when Reese had done it.

“Did you build this, son?” he asked Clay.

“Yes, sir.”

“Nice work. We’ve needed something like this.”

“My pleasure,” Clay said, his mind more on Jed’s daughter than on Jed. “Reese, I have a first-aid kit in my truck. Let me—”

“It’s okay, really,” Reese said. “I’ve got Band-Aids in the office.”

“Let’s get some ointment on it, too, sweetie,” June said as she led her daughter away. “You don’t want it to get infected.”

He watched them walk away, trying hard not to stare at Reese’s ass. He looked back at Jed, who, thankfully, was not a mind reader. Jed was more interested in adjusting his bike cleats than recognizing the fact that Clay was having impure thoughts about his daughter.

“I have to run, guys,” Sheila said as she stood on tiptoe to kiss Eric. “Have a good day, okay?”

“Sure,” Eric mumbled. “You mean assuming the damn termite-infested building doesn’t collapse around us?”

“Be nice,” she scolded. Then she squeezed his arm and went clicking across the concrete floor to the door. Eric watched her go, smiling a little as she turned and blew him a kiss.

“Anyone seen Axl this morning?” Jed asked.

“He was out back working on his motorcycle earlier,” Eric said. “When did he get the T-shirt that says ‘If you can read this, the bitch fell off’?”

“That was a gift from Larissa,” Jed said. “We tried to hide it from him so he wouldn’t offend the ladies at the Senior Center, but he found it in the hamper this morning.”

As if on cue, the door burst open and Axl came marching through. He wore black leather chaps over torn jeans, and something that looked like a dog chain around his neck. Behind him stood two similarly dressed senior citizens with matted facial hair and arms that looked like tattooed tree trunks.

Axl spotted Jed and flipped up his aviator bifocals. “There you are,” he said, marching forward with the men on his heels. “You trying to ditch us again?”

Jed sighed. “Axl, I keep telling you—the wine country bike tours are for bicycles—not motorcycles.”

“It doesn’t say that anywhere in the brochure,” he insisted, folding his arms over his chest. “A bike is a bike, am I right, boys?”

One of the men nodded. “You’re always right, Axl.”

Jed glanced at his watch. “I thought you had a Bingo tournament this morning, Axl.”

“I did, but half the crew got dragged off to the pokey last night for stealing Preparation H from Walmart. That leaves my schedule free for a bike tour.”

“It’s not that kind of bike tour,” Jed argued. “Look, I’ve got twenty-eight people signed up to make the loop between here and the other five vineyards in the program, and I don’t need you guys on your hogs flipping off cops and mooning cars.”

“It was just that once,” Axl muttered. Seeming to notice the others in the room for the first time, he narrowed his eyes at Clay. “You ride?”

“’Fraid not.”

“Damn shame. The gang’s always looking for fresh blood. You staying nearby while you’re here?”

“I’m at a hotel in town for now,” Clay said. “The company offered to spring for a long-term rental, but we haven’t found anything yet.”

“So you don’t have a place lined up?”

“I just got here. Haven’t really had a chance to go house hunting.”

“Hell—you can rent my old place. The one I lived in ’til I shacked up with the kids last year? It’s right there on the edge of the vineyard, all convenient for you. Nice little bachelor pad, if you know what I mean. Mirrors on the ceiling—”

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Axl,” Jed said, then frowned. “Not the mirrors—I mean, the cabin’s just sitting there empty. Clay, you’re welcome to rent it if you’d like. We’d make you a deal.”

At the edge of the group, Eric cleared his throat and looked at Clay. “Didn’t you say something about wanting to be closer to town?”

Clay looked at his old friend, trying to read his expression. Was Eric trying to save him from stammering an awkward refusal? Or was he trying to minimize the time Clay spent at the vineyard?

Either way, Clay knew what to say. “Thanks, but I’ve got a line on a couple possibilities in town. I appreciate the offer, though.”

Axl shrugged. “Suit yourself. The place is empty if you change your mind. All right, boys—you want to ride or you want to go dig for ’shrooms in the woods again?”

“Ride,” one of the geriatric beefcakes answered. “Later on the ’shrooms.”

The other guy bobbed his head on his neckless shoulders and led them back outside.

Once the door shut behind them, Jed shook his head before turning back to Eric and Clay. “Okay, kids, I’m out of here. Tell my beautiful wife I miss her already.”

“Will do, sir,” Clay said, shifting the wrench in his hands.

As soon as Jed was gone, Clay set the wrench down and turned to Eric. “Thanks for getting me off the hook there.”

Eric nodded once, eyeing him with an expression Clay couldn’t quite read. “No sweat. I’ve always got your back. You know that.”

“I appreciate it.”

Eric picked up a bottle of wine on the edge of the shelf and studied it, not looking at Clay. “You didn’t really want to stay out here, did you?”

Clay shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “No. Not at all.”

“I figured the temptation might be too much.”

Clay stared at him. Eric stared back.

“All the alcohol and everything,” Eric added. “Why take risks with that sort of thing?”

Clay nodded. “Temptation. Right.”