Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(5)

He caught Amber’s quick glance at Coco.

“What?”

“You always see the positive,” Amber said. “It’s times like this that I know I’m adopted. Doubting blood runs in my veins.”

He had doubts—he just didn’t want to admit to them. “This from a woman who risks her life to protect livelihoods in the villages of Uzbekistan? From what Dante tells me, you should be up for sainthood.”

“I just show them how to collect wild herbs in a sustainable way. But my efforts would be better spent if I could instruct them on ways to protect themselves from thieves.”

“It’s still hard for me to believe that licorice is a cash crop anyone would kill to get their hands on.”

“Licorice is used in nearly every Chinese medicinal formula, and China can’t get enough. That makes it the equivalent of herbal gold. And therefore dangerous.”

“You’ll never get me near it. I never liked licorice.”

Coco leaned out of her saddle and tapped his arm. “When you’re finished surveying the realm, come down to the studio.”

“You are not getting me to pose for your calendar project, Coco. Never.”

“Just for the prototype?” She shot him her most irresistible youngest-sister smile. “I need the practice.”

“And then join us for lunch,” Amber added. “I’m headed to Bulgaria tomorrow. I’d like to spend time with you before I go.”

“They grow licorice in Bulgaria?”

“Chamomile.”

“I can’t believe that chamomile is endangered.”

“Wild chamomile is. I’ll fill you in over lunch. After you strip down and pose for Coco.” Amber winked at Coco. “Race you.”

“I’m not posing. You’ll have to find a more willing subject than me,” he said into the dust kicked up when his sisters thundered down the hill.

He worried about each of his eight sisters, perhaps more than he should. But there was no way he was going to pose for Coco’s calendar, no matter how much money it might make for the women’s shelter Coco supported. The thought of posing half-naked for all the world to see made his skin crawl. His sisters had wild ideas and wilder dreams. But there were limits to sibling loyalty.





After checking on the progress of the shelving in the Casa’s new gift shop, Adrian headed up the path along the stream to the building that housed Coco’s studio and the apartments for her and Anastasia. A young man lugging full firefighting regalia was just exiting as Adrian reached the stairs to the porch. The man was all smiles. Evidently some men liked taking their clothes off in public.

The door to the studio was open, and bright lights at the top of poles lit the interior, particularly a makeshift locker set up in the middle of the room.

“There you are,” Coco said as she switched off one of the taller lights. “You missed the shoot. Did Tate pass you on your way up here?”

“He did.”

“He’s perfect. A bit shy, though. It took all my powers of persuasion to get him to take off his shirt. I’d never have been able to persuade him if I’d tried to shoot at the firehouse. He could be Mr. February. You could be Mr. March.”

“No is evidently not a word in your vast vocabulary,” Adrian said as firmly as he could without sounding harsh.

He glanced at the photos lining a counter along the side wall. All featured Tate stripped down, bare chested, glistening and smiling what could only be described as the California smile.

Coco peered over his shoulder. “Which pose do you like best?”

“I’m not your audience.”

“But you have an excellent eye.”

“Ask Zoe. She has the eye of an artist.”

Coco wrinkled her nose. “She and Cody are down at spring training. He’ll be catching for the season opener.”

“Boning up on your baseball facts?”

“Hard not to in this family,” Coco said with a laugh.

Adrian surveyed the photos. Coco was determined to have a full year’s worth of local men posing for her calendar, one for each month. He was determined not to be one of them.

“I prefer the shot where he has his helmet tucked under his arm,” he conceded.

“It’s good.” Coco held up a different print. “But this one with the coiled fire hose is more suggestive.”

“I hadn’t realized that was the criteria.”

Coco eyed him.

“You look tired, Adrian. Why do you push so hard when you don’t have to?”

“Why does anyone do anything? Why do you work at your art so hard? I see you sweating at finding locations, pulling together your crews—you’ve been focused for months on this calendar project.”

He knew Coco didn’t share his feeling of guilt, his sense of living with opportunity neither deserved nor earned. It was like being sentenced to constantly having to prove worthy of unearned good fortune. But Coco was driven by a desire to make a difference in the bigger world. They shared that drive if none other.

“Touché.” She pressed a finger to his heart. “And my work would be much easier if you and Alex cooperated. If you’d pose and get a few of your friends to agree to as well.” She stepped away from him and crossed her arms. “You scare me sometimes. I see that look in your eyes, Adrian. It’s like you wouldn’t exist without your project.”