“I’ve heard that she’s spending time with my friends’ girlfriends, yes.”
“Good. Good. Ashley, she and her father are special to me. We must treat her well,” Pierre says, drumming his fingers on the table where I’m working. He’s still staring at me, a thoughtful expression on his face, and I’m having a hard time not showing any reaction that might give something away.
“C’est bon. I will go now, I am meeting with the mayor about a permitting issue. He is one of your friends, is he not?”
“Yes, Ethan and I went to university together,” I answer.
“Excellent, then hopefully there will be no delay. We will meet again when Ashley has the samples.”
With one final drum of his fingers, Pierre leaves. Me, I stay standing where I am with only one thought clear in my mind.
Ashley Elliott is off limits.
“I’m sorry, man, I wish I had better news, but it’s just not possible to finish any faster.”
Ethan and I are standing in the backyard of my rental house, looking at the mess left behind when the snow melted. Water drips off the corner where the roof used to connect to the laundry room addition, adding to a mud puddle at our feet.
“Fucking hell, Ethan.” I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “I’d live in the house anyway if it weren’t so goddamn cold.”
“It’s only cold because you’ve still got so much California blood running through your veins.”
My eyes lift in a massive eyeroll at his pathetic attempt at teasing me. “Whatever.” Together we turn and head back to the front of the house.
“Is it really so bad staying at the Airbnb with Ashley?” Ethan shoots me a sly glance. “I saw her come into the bakery the other day. She’s hot.”
I glare at him. “Dude. You’re engaged.”
Ethan just laughs. “And that is all the answer I need.” Somehow the asshole dodges the fist I throw at his shoulder and walks back to his truck still chuckling. “See you later at Hastings!”
Shaking my head, I go inside the freezing house. I was lying when I said I would live here anyway, it’s damp and cold, and I know Ethan isn’t joking when he says it’s going to take time to fix everything. When the laundry room roof collapsed, it also damaged something on the main part of the house. I don’t understand it exactly, but I trust Ethan.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I go back to my bedroom and grab some more clothes to take to the Airbnb. Then back down to the kitchen, where I raid my wine rack for a few bottles of my personal favourites. Then, essentials in hand, I lock up the front door — pointless as that feels when the back of the house is wide open to the world — and I make the short drive back to where I’m forced to stay for the foreseeable future. Ashley’s car is parked outside, but when I step inside, I see the door to her room is shut. Perfect. I should be able to get in and get out without running into her. Once I’ve dropped everything off in my room, I grab my gym bag and leave again. Is it childish to be avoiding her like this? Probably. Do I care? Not at all. If keeping my distance is the only way to avoid temptation, then that’s what I’ll do.
Two hours later, after a workout and showering at the gym, I open the door to Hastings Bar. We haven’t all gathered together since the live nativity before Christmas, so I’m looking forward to having a couple of beers and relaxing with my friends. But that’s short-lived when I see Ashley sitting between Paige and Summer. I make my way to the other end and drop down into a seat beside Reid. “What’s she doing here,” I mutter under my breath, trying not to turn in her direction.
“Who, Ashley? Mila invited her.” Reid slaps me on the back and pushes a sleeve of beer my way. “Drink up, my friend. It’s Friday night, and we finally all managed to make our schedules line up to hang out.”
Right. He has no idea why I wish Ashley wasn’t here. Hell, no one does. I’m sure Mila and Ethan suspect it, but I guess the gossip hasn’t made it around the group yet. I take a drink from my beer and chance a quick look toward Ashley, only to see her eyes focused on me. Shit. I turn away and focus on whatever Reid and Jackson are talking about.
“I’m telling you, according to Matt, this guy down in Sonoma is the only person on the coast with the part. He’s freaking out over how to get it. Hey, Finn, when you were down in California did you ever head to Sonoma?”
I arch my eyebrow at Reid’s ridiculous question. “Seeing as Napa and Sonoma are not that far apart, yeah, I did. A lot.”
Reid ignores my barb at his lack of understanding of California geography. “Got any suggestions on where to stay down there? One of the teachers needs some specialty piece for his motorcycle, and this guy Lukas Donovan has a shop in Sonoma; apparently, his is the only place on the West Coast that has it. He’s thinking of driving down on spring break.”
We talk for a while, and I give him a few suggestions for his co-worker. There are definitely parts of California I miss, but this — being back with my friends and closer to my family — is what it’s all about. Opening my own winery, even if we won’t have many estate wines that we can truly call our own, is a dream come true.
Two sleeves of beer later I’m ready to head home. It’s been a long day and an even longer week. My bed is calling, and if going home from a bar before midnight is considered lame, well, sign me up.
“Finn, my buddy, my pal, my favourite wine guy ever.” Mila drapes her arms over my shoulders. “You haven’t had more than a couple beers, have you?”
I shift in my seat to look at her. “Of course not.”
“Great! So you can drive Ashley back to the Airbnb. She’s had a little, tiny, teeny bit more.” Mila giggles and it’s clear all of the girls might have enjoyed a few too many drinks.
“Be honest, Mills. You’re all drunk,” Ethan says, standing up and wrapping his arm around Summer’s waist. She leans into him and sighs.
“Yep, we are, lumberjack.”
