Nate
Usually I slept well at the vineyard, especially after a hard night of picking, but today a decent rest eluded me. My body was tired, but I was wound too tight to sleep. It wasn't the usual anxieties that the harvest might be light or that the weather might turn that disturbed me. It was having Juliet Caldwell sleeping under my roof.
She was one of the most beautiful and endearing women I'd ever met, but I needed to think carefully about acting on my attraction. She'd come to me for help, and I offered her protection. It was my responsibility to look after her. Taking advantage of her in a vulnerable moment would make me worse than the man she was trying to get away from.
Swinging my legs out of bed, I reached for my phone on the nightstand and called Scott Bateson, the head of my security team.
"Nate?" He answered within a couple of rings. "Is everything okay?"
"I need you to look into Garrett Kane for me."
He hummed thoughtfully. "Sure. Any particular aspect?"
"Yes, his dealings with women."
There was a moment's pause. "Dealings with women? What do you mean?"
"Harassment suits that have been swept under the carpet, allegations of misconduct in his personal life, that sort of thing."
If anyone could uncover wrongdoing, it was Scott.
"Okay." He sounded wary. "Is there some reason for this sudden interest in Kane?"
I took a moment to weigh whether to tell Scott about my houseguest, then decided he could be trusted.
"Juliet Caldwell came to me last night, looking for somewhere to lay low. Kane has been pursuing her relentlessly. She's afraid of him." Although she hadn't told me that in so many words, I got the distinct impression his power and influence intimidated her. Though she was trying to be brave, I'd heard the quiver in her voice when she talked about Kane.
Scott made a sound that might have been a curse. "Okay, I'll get right on that. I'll also send you some extra security."
"I don't think…"
"Nate." He cut across me without apology. "I know you have guys out there, but if Kane decides to make a move, a half-dozen grape pickers aren't going to see off the trained professionals he’ll hire. Let me send the right people."
My men did a hell of a lot more than pick grapes, but Scott was right that they would be no match for the sort of professional team Garrett Kane could hire if he wanted to snatch Juliet. Fuck! I rubbed my forehead as I tried to wrap my mind around the situation. Yesterday the biggest issue I had to worry about was whether the sugar content of the cabernet would be too high. Now I was thinking about whether the woman I'd promised to protect might be kidnapped from my home.
"Send them," I said. "But tell them to keep a low profile. I don't want Juliet unsettled by armed guards everywhere."
"Understood. I'll let you know what I dig up on Kane."
I ended the call, set the phone down, and headed into the bathroom. Although I'd showered earlier to wash the grime from the vineyard off my body, I needed another after tossing and turning for hours
Twenty minutes under the steady stream of cool water readied me to face the world. I dried off and dressed in jeans and a shirt. There were two to three days of harvesting left, depending on how many temporary pickers appeared tonight. With plenty of work in the valley during the harvest season, competition for their labor was fierce.
When I was dressed, I headed across the hallway to listen at Juliet's door for a moment. There was no sound from within. I considered knocking, but she was probably still asleep, so I turned and walked away.
As I made my way to the kitchen, voices drifted toward me. One was easily recognizable as the brash Newcastle accent of my aunt. The other, softer voice belonged to Juliet. I stopped at the door to watch them.
Juliet stood at the island dressed in a pair of dark leggings that clung to her slender legs. Several inches too short, they probably belonged to my cousin. She wore a white cotton shirt, knotted at the front to reveal a sliver of delicate skin. Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot with wisps hanging down to frame her face. Flour dusted her cheek.
Eileen stood opposite her, arms folded, giving her a mock stern look.
"You don't beat the mix once the flour is in it," Juliet was saying, demonstrating with careful movements. "If you're too aggressive, you knock the air out and then your muffins will be dense instead of light and fluffy."
"I know." Eileen's tone was sardonic. "I've been baking for more than thirty years, pet."
Juliet grinned. "Then you know I'm right."
I cleared my throat and both women turned to me. Juliet's eyes lit up, a candid response which hinted she was attracted to me.
