Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

Micah shrugs again. “Bed now?”

Nodding, I move around to the other side of the bed. We both lift and scoot the headboard so it’s up against the wall opposite from the doors that lead out to the veranda.

“I like it,” he says once we’re done, standing back to evaluate.

“I’m glad. Me, too.”

“Hey, I gotta run out to the warehouse. Do you want to meet me out there in a little bit? I’m doing an inspection run, and I was thinking you could ride with me.”

Gosh, it’s been years since I’ve done an inspection run.

When I was a kid, I’d ride around in the ATV with Grandpa every month so he could collect grapes from different locations on the property—different vines, different rows, different types of grapes—and take them back to his lab for testing. I called it a lab, but really it was just an office where he had some fancy equipment.

The building where he used to do those tests is gone now, replaced by a large warehouse a few years before I moved away, but the testing is still a big part of managing our vineyard. I remember my dad, Diego, and Clay regularly riding around the property with labeled bags, pulling samples and marking them intently so that if they found any issues they’d know exactly which vine the grape came from. A little part of me is happy that Micah has taken up the task, and it’s an even better chance to get to catch up with him now that he’s returned from his trip.

“Sure, I’ll come out. Memphis mentioned there’s a new cellar out there now.”

Micah nods. “Yeah, we finished construction about four years ago.”

“I’d love to see it.”

My brother gives me a smile. “Awesome.” Then he looks at his watch again. “Setup for the inspection run should only take thirty minutes or so. See you then?”

I nod, and Micah steps forward, tugging me into a hug that eases something sharp and uncomfortable in my chest.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he tells me, his voice low. “I know you might not want to be here, but I’m glad I get you back for however long it lasts.”

His words swell inside of me, buoying me up after my emotional morning.

Micah plants a kiss on the crown of my head, then leaves my room.

I glance around, taking in the newly moved furniture.

It does make my room feel different.

And having help to do it sure didn’t hurt.

Twenty minutes later, I’ve showered away my emotions from the morning and emerged feeling like a different person. I exit onto the veranda and walk into the vineyard, giving myself a chance to wander leisurely through the vines on the way to the warehouse.

But when I come to the fork in the path, I decide to make a detour over to the cabins. If I’m going to visit some of the property that I haven’t seen in a long time, it can’t hurt to see if there have been any changes to the handful of studio-style residences that our year-round staff live in.

I also can’t lie to myself—part of me is curious about where Wes lives.

Of course when I come around a bend, my footsteps falter when I spot Wes sitting on the steps of cabin 3. He’s leaning against the wooden siding, his head tilted up and his face to the sun, eyes closed.

I didn’t expect him to actually be here, outside, in the middle of the day. Shouldn’t he be back in the kitchen, getting ready for the opening?

I know I sure as hell should be.

It feels like I’ve stumbled upon him in a private moment, not to mention the fact that things between us continue to be sort of tense.

I quietly backtrack around the corner I just came from, hoping not to alert him to my presence. A few more steps and I’ll be in the clear, but then Wes’s eyes open and he looks directly at me.

“Hey.”

It’s all he says, but I can tell he’s curious as to why I’m here.

“Hey, sorry, I was just …”