Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(51)

She heard beeping and noises in the background.

“The doctor’s here. I want to spring Rafe from this place before he seduces all the nurses and—Ow!” There was a pause, and she could tell he’d covered the phone. “They may have to tie him down. See you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great. Ciao.”

Ciao.

Rome.

Her mind raced with all the things she’d imagined saying to him. And she hadn’t had time to say a single one.

When she’d left his place—was it only four mornings ago?—she’d meant to tell him that they shouldn’t see each other again. That she had to consider Tyler and his feelings. Tyler had already asked her too many questions about him. Children seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to emotions. She couldn’t have Adrian march into their lives, throw everything around for a while and then cut things off when some polo princess or fashion model caught his eye.

But as the sun had risen over the ridge behind his house that morning and washed gold light over them, he’d gathered her in his arms and kissed her. And the words she’d rehearsed had dissolved once again and wouldn’t reform.

A surprise, he’d said.

There had been a time when she’d enjoyed surprises. When she was about four years old. The surprises since then weren’t ones she liked to think about. And if the ballet date was any indication, the promised surprise Adrian had dangled would likely reinforce the gap she wished with all her heart didn’t exist. But it did exist. And all the wishing in the world wouldn’t change that fact.





Natasha had just finished putting away the pots and pans in the kitchen when Tyler ran in and closed her in a bear hug.

“Mom! We won! We get to go onto the field!”

“Mmpff.” She hugged him back. “I thought you were at the museum.”

“I was, but Mr. Henderson told us when the bus got back to school that our school won!”

“Whoa. Won what, honey?”

“The scoreboard and the bleachers. Jeez, Mom, don’t you remember? The bake sale? The money?”

“Great news, honey.”

“More than great. You and I get to go on the field and get the check. And we get to sit in Alex Tavonesi’s seats for the game. Behind home plate, Mom. For the whole game. Right there. And Scotty Donovan is pitching, I checked the schedule and—”

“I can’t do that, honey. I have to work.” She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t want to be in front of TV cameras or have his face and hers blasted up on the big screen. Not after what Petey had told her. Too public. Too exposed.

“If you don’t go with me, I can’t go,” Tyler said.

She hated the dejected look on his face. And then his face brightened.

“It’s a Thursday night game, Mom. You don’t work at night.” He leaped up. “We might even get to go in the dugout. That would be the bomb. Brandon and his mom are coming too. Brandon said they can drive.”

No one could stand firm in the force of Tyler’s joy. She’d wear a cap. And sunglasses. Eddie didn’t know their last name, sure didn’t know Tyler’s name at all. Didn’t know Tyler existed. And what were the chances of Eddie watching a baseball game and recognizing her? Or watching that particular game? Loads of people didn’t pay attention to pre-game action on the field.

She tilted her head from side to side and tried to release the tightness that had snapped into place in her neck. Would there ever be a day when things felt easy? A day when she’d wake up and make coffee and look out the window and not feel the nag of anxiety?

She wrapped an arm around Tyler’s shoulders and squeezed. “Then you’d better get ahead on your homework.”

A knock sounded at their door. She wasn’t ready for visitors. Maybe never would be.

“That’s Ava.” Tyler wriggled out of her embrace. “She lives two apartments down. She’s on her school’s softball team. She throws hard.” He looked back to Natasha. “Can we throw for an hour? And then I promise I’ll come in and do all my homework.”

“And eat.”

“Yeah, Mom. Jeez. Of course eat.”





Natasha finished repotting the last of the penstemons for the pollinator garden. She’d bought out the local native nursery. If she had her way, she’d have rows and rows of starts going in the vineyard greenhouses. She’d mentioned her idea to Tammy.

She laid her gloves on the gorgeous wooden potting bench that had mysteriously arrived and been put in place earlier in the week. The bench was much fancier than anything Natasha required. But mention something she needed and—bing!—it appeared. She was still getting used to that fact.

Everything about Casa del Sole was a work of either fine craftsmanship or perfect effort. When Natasha had remarked about the expense of the bench, Tammy had told her it was Adrian’s way of keeping the artisans of the area employed. Lord Adrian, Tammy had teasingly called him. But the jibe wasn’t funny to Natasha. She felt like a lucky minion on Adrian’s grand estate. A minion foolish enough to have slept with the lord of the manor. It was a discouraging thought.

Natasha signed for the soil delivery for the new grow boxes for the pollinator garden. The vineyard composted all the vine cuttings and kitchen scraps as well as the skins, pulp and seeds from the winemaking activities, but she needed soil right away and the Casa’s compost wasn’t ready.