Once Tasted: A Silver Creek Novel (4 page)

He shrugged. “Let me put it another way. After helping out with Aunt Lucy and Uncle Peter’s inn, everything here seems kind of routine. Silver Creek Ranch functions like a well-oiled machine.” Of course, it was good to see the guest ranch running so well, its success the result of years of hard work and an unflagging commitment to excellence on the part of his family and the ranch’s staff.

“Then I have good news for you. There’s a problem that requires your special skill set.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s the cowgirls’ weekend. You know we’re counting on you to do some demos for the ladies—lasso tricks, reining, barrel racing—so the women can admire your, um, skills.”

“Skills, my ass,” he muttered.

“Oh, your butt will definitely play a key role,” she said cheerfully. “Though it’s possible a number of the women will swoon just admiring your face.”

He shot her a look. “Very funny.”

“Sorry.” Her tone was wholly unrepentant. “I’m only trying to get into the spirit of the weekend. As the second-best-looking man on the ranch, you should be prepared for a whole lot of that spirit.”

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me I’m a notch below Ward in the looks department? Love really is blind.”

She didn’t take the bait but smiled mistily, doubtless thinking about his older brother’s awesome wonderfulness and masculine beauty.

Finished grooming, Reid dropped the hoof pick in the carryall. Not even the clatter of the metal against the molded plastic penetrated Tess’s happy fog.

With a sigh, he waved his hand in front of her face. “Earth to my future sister-in-law.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I’m on top of the demos I’m supposed to entertain the women with. I’m showing them roping techniques Friday. Saturday morning Quinn and I are going to team up to demonstrate barrel-racing techniques. And Ward, Quinn, and I will also be leading the guests on trail rides. Depending on how busy they are, Pete and Jim may accompany us ’cause they’re fine-looking cowboys.” He laid his drawl on thick. “So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is the wine tasting we’ve scheduled for
Friday evening. There’s a glitch. We don’t have anyone to do it.”

“It’s already arranged. Lana Cruz from Red Leaf Vineyards is handling it.” Lana ran the tasting room at Red Leaf and was fun and upbeat. He’d dated her casually for a few months but had called it quits before leaving for South Carolina. She’d been cool about it. Lana liked her relationships free and easy, too.

“Not happening. She just emailed me. One of her staff broke his arm skateboarding. It’s his pouring arm, so she has to fill in until he’s out of the cast. We need someone else. Adele suggested Mia Bodell.”

“Nope.” He dismissed the idea calmly as he lowered his tooled saddle onto Sirrus’s back, adjusting it and the red-and-black-striped wool blanket beneath it. “How about George? He worked as a sommelier when he lived in Santa Barbara.” George Reich managed Silver Creek’s restaurant.

“A good idea, but George is already booked. Adele asked him to give a chat with my friend Anna Vecchio about the demands of running a restaurant. People love an insider’s look, and what could be better than hearing about a New York City trattoria and an innovative Northern California restaurant?”

“And you’d rather he didn’t do two different talks.” He picked up Sirrus’s bridle. Ward must have cleaned it yesterday. The leather was supple and the snaffle bit sparkled.

“You got it. That’s why Adele thought Mia would be a good choice.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve only been back an hour and she’s already at it. Listen, Tess, I know you love your employer and future mother-in-law. So do I—Mom’s great. But no way am I asking Mia for anything. So run back and tell Mom to quit while she’s ahead in the matchmaking business. She hit one out of the ballpark
with you and Ward, but she’s punch-drunk if she thinks I’m going to spend more than five minutes in Mia Bodell’s company.” The woman hated him. Not that Reid could blame her.

“I don’t think she’s matchmaking, Reid.”

“No, she’s only been dropping hints that I should invite Mia to such-and-such event for a year now. All perfectly innocent.”

“She said Mia knows her wines.”

Mia made the widely acclaimed wine critic Robert Parker look like a bum and a slacker. “Listen, Tess, the women who signed up for the cowgirls’ weekend are coming to have a good time. Mia would probably expect them to take an exam after her presentation.”

“Come on!” she said with a laugh.

“I’m serious. I’ll ask Thomas to do it instead.”

“Thomas? Oh, you mean her uncle?”

Tess was still learning the locals’ names. “Yeah, and the women will love him.”

Regardless of how he felt about Mia or how she felt about him—which was at the level of sheep shit on the like meter—Reid considered Thomas Bodell a good friend. “I was already planning to drop by the vineyard to say hi,” he continued as he slipped the headstall over Sirrus’s ears. “I’ll ask him if he wouldn’t like to chat about wine with a group of charming ladies. What time have you scheduled the tasting for again?”

“Five o’clock.”

“If he’s willing to do it, it’ll go great and these cowgirls-in-training might actually learn something they can use when they return home. He knows his stuff.”

“According to Adele, Mia does, too.”

Reid rested a hand on his hip. Time to let Tess in on a few facts. “Listen, Mom’s always had a soft spot for Mia, which is fine. It’s a free country. But this business
of asking her to do the wine talk is moot. Mia won’t give me the time of day, let alone—”

Tess’s brown eyes widened dramatically. “Stop the presses! You mean there’s a woman between here and the Atlantic who can resist your charm?”

“I don’t try to charm Mia.”

“Huh.” Tess was looking at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Are you sure we can’t get her over here? I’d love to witness the sight of a woman under the age of a hundred not fawning over you.”

“Sweetheart, I can tell you’ve been spending too much time with Ward. Your sense of humor’s gotten warped. I’ll go over to the vineyard and ask Thomas to give the talk.”

“Well, at least we’ve averted a scheduling crisis,” she said. “I’ll let Adele know our problem is solved.”

“And tell her to quit trying to set me up with Mia. It ain’t happening. Not now, not ever.”

He watched Tess fight a losing battle with a grin. Good to know someone was entertained by his mom and her matchmaking habit.

“Sure thing, Reid.”

Sirrus was happy to stretch his legs in a run as they headed toward the uppermost pastures to check on the cattle that roamed the slopes in the summer months, grazing free. Reid had missed the nine-year-old gelding, which was trained to respond to the subtlest shifts of his body.

The Angus cattle looked good, strong and solid. Just as significant, the pastures looked healthy, and the ponds and tanks that supplied the herd’s water were full. As long as a drought or heat wave didn’t hit, the cattle destined for market in November would reach a good weight.

He’d have to figure out a good distraction for Quinn come then. Whenever it was time to schedule the cattle for harvesting—the industry’s euphemism for slaughter—Quinn, despite being a rancher’s daughter, went through a rough patch emotionally. Even though their family raised the cattle in as ethical and humane a way as possible, Quinn hated the thought of them being killed.

Last year Reid had taken her white-water rafting. Maybe a weekend of hang gliding or a trip to a wolf sanctuary would do the job. Knowing Quinn, she’d opt for the wolves.

Sirrus and he had reached the creek for which his family’s ranch was named and that wound its way over hundreds of acres. They crossed it. The cool water, scooped by Sirrus’s hooves, splashed onto Reid’s jeans, and he grinned.

On firm ground again, he moved the gelding into an easy trot. They followed the wide ribbon of water for a ways before angling off to ride the fence line.

Constructed of wood and wire, it, too, was in excellent shape. He spotted no holes along the bottom of the heavy-gauge wire to indicate predators were trying to dig their way in. Once again, a nagging restlessness filled him. It wasn’t that he
wanted
anything to be wrong with the ranch. Besides, he knew all too well that soon enough a crisis would arise, either of the animal or human variety. That’s the way it was on a guest ranch.

It was just that a part of him craved the challenge of something new, something different. But what it was, he had no clue.

That he felt even an ounce of restlessness or dissatisfaction was ironic since he was the laid-back member of the family, content to drift along with no set agenda. It was his older brother, Ward, who enjoyed taking charge and then charging ahead.

Ward had been the same way with women. Sure, it had taken him awhile to find the right one, but luckily Tess had come along and he’d had the smarts to recognize what an amazing woman she was. Yeah, Ward had definitely lucked out in finding someone like Tess to share his life.

Not that Reid was looking for that kind of commitment himself. He was far too happy enjoying all the different women who came and went. To him, women were like a splendid menu. Why forsake the pleasure of sampling all those delicious creations for one single dish? He wasn’t sure he could do it for a month, let alone the rest of his life.

He just didn’t see it.

Luckily there was no reason for him to contemplate such a future. Ward was about to tie the knot. Reid was willing to predict he and Tess would soon be producing feisty, pasta-loving cowkids. With the promise of a new generation of Knowleses populating Acacia, California, Reid’s mother could surely relax with the matchmaking habits.

His mother was terrific. He loved her. But if she continued with the “Mia Bodell is really a lovely, smart girl” refrain, he was going to enroll her in rehab.

He did like the company of one Bodell, though. And if Reid went to visit Thomas now, Mia would still be tending the vines. He’d gone to the trouble of learning the rhythms of the vineyard to avoid crossing paths with her. On the regrettable occasions when he’d screwed up and run into her either at the vineyard or in town, he’d gotten damned skilled at ignoring her.

The fence’s gate was a couple hundred yards away. Reid closed his legs, and Sirrus moved into a flowing extended trot. No time like the present to pay a neighborly call.

W
HILE THE
B
ODELLS
’ winery shared a property line with his family’s ranch, to Reid it was like stepping into a different world, one where regimented rows of grapevines soaking up the California sun replaced fields, live oaks, and fir trees. He might be a cowboy and rancher at heart, taking pride in the grass-fed beef his family raised, the caliber of the wool gathered from their sheep, and the excellence of the Quarter Horses they trained, but he also respected what the Bodells produced with such care and attention to quality.

It was through his friendship with Thomas Bodell that Reid had learned to better appreciate wine and to distinguish the varietals by their color, aroma, and taste. Of course, he would never know as much about wine as someone like Thomas. Or Mia, for that matter. But, unlike her uncle, Mia didn’t see the point in sharing her knowledge and educating a cowboy who spent most of his days in the saddle.

At the thought of Mia, he unconsciously pressed his lips in a flat line and swept his gaze over the brilliant green canopy of trellised vines. Her distinctive cloud of gold-brown hair was nowhere in sight. But then he caught a blur of blue. It was Mia. The quick tightening
in his gut told him so. She’d wrapped a bandanna around her hair. She was standing deep into a row, her back to him. A good distance separated them.

Excellent. She was busy with her grapes. He’d be able to see Thomas in peace. He drew a deep breath, forcing his muscles to relax.

Sirrus had been walking over the grass that grew along the road to the Bodells’ old farmhouse. Approaching the house, Reid guided Sirrus onto the drive. The ring of his hooves on the gravel mingled with the busy cries of the swallows and bluebirds overhead.

A hearty voice called out to him. “Reid! Good to see you, son.” Thomas was sitting on the porch with his tabby cat, Vincent, nestled on his lap. By the time Reid and Sirrus reached the farmhouse, Thomas had risen to his feet and descended the porch steps. His cat jumped onto the porch railing, the better to observe the intruders. He stared fixedly, his gray-and-black-striped tail twitching.

“When did you get back?” Thomas asked.

“Rode in this morning.” Reid swung his leg over the saddle and dismounted. Grasping the reins in his left hand, he shook Thomas’s outstretched one.

“Not on Sirrus, I assume.”

Reid returned his smile. “On my Harley.”

“Almost as good.”

“Yeah.”

“Actually, your parents told me you’d be back today. I was hoping you’d drop by. Can you sit awhile? I’ve got something to share with you.”

“A liquid something?”

The older man’s eyes twinkled. “That, too, my boy.”

Thomas disappeared around the back of the house. Reid took the lasso hanging from his saddle horn and tied a slipknot around the horn, then, making sure there
was enough play in the rope, looped another knot around the porch’s top rail.