Rainshadow Road (Friday Harbor #2)(34)

Sam shrugged slightly. “Sex is the canary in the coal mine.” At Lucy’s blank look, he continued. “Miners used to bring a canary in a cage underground. If there was a carbon dioxide leak in the mine, the canary would drop dead first, and they would know to get out of there. So … how was it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lucy said primly.

His smile was edged with friendly mockery. “Never mind. I already know the answer.”

Her eyes turned huge. “Kevin told you about our sex life?”

Sam squinted his eyes with the effort to remember. “Something about Crisco, jumper cables, a snorkel mask—”

“It was entirely normal,” Lucy whispered sharply, now crimson. “Plain old regular, boring, vanilla sex.”

“That was my second guess,” he said gravely.

She scowled. “If you’re going to make fun of me all during lunch—”

“I’m not making fun of you. I’m teasing you. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t like being teased.”

“Fair enough,” Sam said, his voice softening. “I won’t do it anymore.”

After the waitress came to take their entree orders, Lucy contemplated Sam with cautious interest. He was a bundle of contradictions … a reputed womanizer who seemed to have spent a lot more time working in his vineyard than chasing females … a man who maintained the pretense of being carefree while at the same sharing the responsibility of raising a child.

“I’m surprised I haven’t met you before,” she said. “Especially since we both know Justine.”

“I haven’t been all that social since I started the vineyard. It’s a lot of work, especially at the beginning. Not the kind of job you set aside on weekends. And for the past year, Holly’s needed all the attention Mark and I could spare.”

“You’ve both sacrificed a lot for her, haven’t you?”

“It wasn’t a sacrifice. Holly is the best thing that ever happened to me. With kids, you get a lot more than you give.” Sam paused reflectively. “I also got a brother out of the deal.”

“You and Mark weren’t close before?”

Sam shook his head. “But in the past year we’ve gotten to know each other. We’ve had to depend on each other. And it turns out I like the guy.”

“I’m getting the impression,” she said hesitantly, “that you might have come from … a troubled family?”

“It wasn’t a family. It looked like one on the outside, but it was no more a family than the carcasses hanging in a meat locker are a herd of cows.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said gently. “Was there a problem with one of your parents?”

Sam hesitated for such a long moment that Lucy thought he might not reply. “There’s always a town drunk in a small community,” he finally said. “With my parents, you got two for the price of one.” His mouth took on a faint, wry curve. “A pair of married alcoholics will support each other all the way to hell.”

“Did either of them ever try to get help?”

He shook his head. “Even if one of them had, it’s almost impossible to get sober when you live with another alcoholic.”

The conversation had acquired a sense of carefulness, boundaries being tested, tricky territory.

“They were always that way?” Lucy asked.

“For as long as I can remember. As the kids got old enough to leave in turn, we got the hell out of there. Until only Alex was left. And now…”

“He’s an alcoholic?”

“I’m not sure where to draw that line. But if he hasn’t crossed it yet, he will soon.”

No wonder he was afraid of commitment, Lucy thought. No wonder he had a problem with relationships that went beyond the physical. Having one parent as an alcoholic was enough to ruin a family. The children would always have to be on guard, dealing with constant manipulation and abuse. But when both of them were drinkers … there was no safe place. No one you could trust.

“With your parents’ issues,” Lucy asked, “did you worry about getting into the wine business?”

“Not at all. Just because my parents were drunks doesn’t mean I can’t love wine. Besides, I’m not as much of a winemaker as I am a grape grower. A farmer.”

Lucy was privately amused. With his laid-back sexiness, wearing those dark aviator sunglasses, Sam couldn’t have looked less like a farmer. “What do you like most about being a grape grower?”

“It’s a mixture of science, hard work … and a touch of magic.”

“Magic,” Lucy repeated, staring at him closely.

“Sure. A vintner can grow the same kind of grapes in the same patch of soil, but it turns out differently every year. The flavor of the grapes tells you about the soil composition, how long the sun shone, how cool the nighttime breezes were, how much rain fell. It’s the unique expression of a place and a season. Terroir, the French call it.”

Conversation was momentarily interrupted as the waitress brought their entrees and refilled their water glasses. As lunch continued at a leisurely pace, Lucy found herself relaxing and enjoying herself even more than she would have expected. Sam had a way of focusing on a person that was immensely flattering, especially to a woman with a bruised ego. He was smart, self-deprecating, and so charming that she could easily have been lulled into a false sense of security.