Autumn in the Vineyard (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) (6 page)

“We’re fine,” he whispered back.

“Really?” Trey leaned in. “Because this slam dunk hearing doesn’t seem so slam dunk anymore and that makes me nervous. You know what makes me even more nervous? That Frankie isn’t even breaking a sweat.”

Nate looked over and Frankie was smiling up at the judge, not an ounce of worry on her pretty face.

“I’ll fix this,” Nate whispered, then stood. “Your honor, if I may?”

“No, son, you may not.” Judge Pricket’s bushy brows furrowed in annoyance. “I’ve been listening to your families gripe about this land my entire career.”

“Yes, your honor,” Nate cut in, not wanting him to get any further. “And I’m sorry. But I don’t think the past has any relevance on today’s hearing. This sale has nothing to do with our grandparents’ feud. We are a new generation who would like the opportunity to make this right.”

“I am glad to hear you say that, but it still doesn’t answer the problem about what to do with the house. The way Saul had the property line drawn, it goes right down the middle of the house. So I have a single residence dwelling with two owners. Not to mention the south property has access to the road and driveway, and the north property houses the well.”

Yeah, Nate had noticed that too.

Judge Pricket took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. After a long, tense moment, he looked out at the courtroom. “Legally I can and should take that sucker down, knock you both out of escrow and force the Sorrentos to put the land on the market with all parties aware of the facts.”

“Wait.” Frankie stood. “Mrs. Sorrento would never agree to that. She is happy with the sale and so am I.”

“Which is my problem, Miss Baudouin.” The judge’s expression softened. “Since you did your due diligence and Glow is adamant that escrow closes in a timely fashion, I have my hands tied. However, the house, which I believe you are living in, is still under my discretion. As for the other half of the property, Saul is open to other ideas.” His gaze narrowed on Nate’s table.

“So I am giving you both thirty days to get in there and prove to me that you can make this work. Thirty days is plenty of time to come up with some unique ideas, and believe me, I’ve had sixty years to start my list.” He sent them both a stern
smile. “One complaint, one bullet fired, one call to the sheriff, and the bulldozers come in and I get to go have a beer. Because at the end of your month, one way or another, this feud will no longer be my problem. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” they both said in unison.

“Good.” The judge stood and whacked his gavel. “Now get out of my courtroom so I can go play croquet.”

“Can he do that?” Nate asked his lawyer when Pricket disappeared back into his chambers.

“Can and would,” Drew said to the table. “My advice is to do whatever it takes to avoid Judge Pricket. Find a way to make it work with Miss Baudouin.”

Nate looked over at
Miss Baudouin
, who oddly enough wasn’t celebrating her victory. She was staring at him, a million death threats shooting out of her pretty eyes, sharpening what appeared to be a pocket knife on the metal cap on her left boot.

“Or make her an offer she can’t refuse.” Drew followed his gaze and laughed. “Just be sure she holsters the blade before you start negotiations.”

“There is no way she’ll sell,” Nate said, eyes still on Frankie. “Not now. Not when she knows how much we spent on the land.”
Not when she knows how much I want it
.

“You need the other ten acres to fulfill your contracts, right? And our research shows that she is desperately short of liquid assets. So stop thinking with this,” Drew patted his chest, “and start thinking up here. I’m sure that some kind of partnership between the two properties can be reached.”

Nate laughed. “You obviously have no idea how Frankie works. She would never get involved with a DeLuca.”

Nate knew that firsthand.

As though sensing she was the topic of conversation, Frankie dropped her feet to the floor, and, after pocketing her knife, strode toward him with enough purpose and attitude to scare even the manliest of men.

Nate leaned against the table, crossing his ankles, and smiled. “Hey, Francesca.”

She stopped when they were toe to toe, her eyes narrowed into two irritated slits as she gave him a long onceover. He gave her an equally long assessment, taking in the way she smelled—freaking incredible—and how her blouse hugged her breasts. Breasts he had spent the past two days convincing himself couldn’t be as perfect as he’d imagined.

They weren’t. They were even better. Almost as impressive as her backside, not that he could see it right now with her staring him down, but he remembered.

When the tapping of her combat boots didn’t get her desired results, she cleared her throat, letting him know he was caught staring. He raised his eyes and—
oh yeah
—her baby blues lit up, her face softened and she smiled. And his brain glitched. Just like that. One smile and he was so gone.

“Seven and a half million,” she said, still smiling, and he was smiling back. “What an idiot.”

By the time her words set in, she was already shoving her way through the crowd, proving them both right: He
was
an idiot and her ass was as sweet as he remembered.

“Good to see you too, Frankie,” Nate called out.

“Bite me,” she said over her shoulder, flipping him the bird as she made her way toward the exit.

“You’re right,” Drew laughed, clapping Nate on the back. “I don’t know how that woman works, but you obviously do. How long have you two been circling each other?”

“Since high school,” Trey said, his eyes equally as glued to Frankie’s retreating backside as she pushed through the massive double doors. Nate elbowed him.

“Maybe it’s time you let yourself get caught,” Drew suggested, packing up his briefcase.

“Get caught?” Nate asked, dismayed. Not at the idea of Frankie’s more than capable hand on him because, sweet Jesus, tangling with Frankie would be like skydiving, alligator wrestling, and silky, sweet curves all rolled into one. But because spending time with Frankie and not getting involved would be impossible.

No, Nate and Frankie as anything more than bitter friends would be a mistake. And Nate didn’t do mistakes. Not ones that had the potential to blow up into a disaster of epic proportions.

“All I am saying is that Pricket can be a hard ass and I don’t think he was joking. If you two can’t find a way to play nice then you
will
lose that property and I guarantee that Pricket will make it so no one in your family for the next hundred years will be able to get their hands on it.” Drew gave Nate a serious look. “You want that land? Maybe it’s time to change up the rules.”

Frankie passed between the marble columns and down the front steps of town hall, which spanned the entire length of the building, heading toward the parking lot. A warm breeze blew past and the thin layer of maple leaves, so yellow that the town seemed tinted with the season, floated down Main Street, past each brick-faced storefront decorated with pumpkins, and under
the festive banner advertising the upcoming harvest and Cork Crawl.

Shifting her helmet, she stepped off the curb by her motorcycle and stopped, her stomach plummeting to her toes.

Further down the two-lane street, exiting The Barrel Buyer—a specialty wine shoppe and tasting room—was her grandfather, briefcase in hand, scowl in place. He headed toward his sedan and was about to open the door when he looked up and spotted her.

Frankie forced her lips into an unsure smile, one she’d given a thousand times as a kid, and waited for him to respond. She watched him take a breath, a small step off the curb, another tentative one closer, and everything inside of her stilled.

It was stupid to think that Charles might have come to support her. Even stupider to hope he would tell her how proud he was of her for Red Steel Cellars, the wine she was making to target the collector’s market. Not after the way he’d reacted when he’d discovered Red Steel. But she had still hoped.

During the hearing, she’d even managed to convince herself that Charles had been at the back of the courthouse, hidden among the crush of people. But that silly, childish hope was extinguished now when she raised her hand and waved—and he took a huge step back, into his car and further out of her life. The disapproval rolling off of him as he drove away was like a physical blow.

“Good to see you too,” Frankie called out and kicked at a pile of leaves in the gutter. This was why she’d bought Sorrento Ranch. Charles was so easy to disappoint and too stubborn to forgive. And she was tired of trying to live up to unattainable expectations.

“Frankie?” Nate asked quietly.

With shaky hands, she set her helmet on the seat of her bike and fished though her pocket, not wanting to turn around. She knew if she did, she’d see Nate standing behind her, wanting to make sure she was okay while his team of lawyers and supportive family waited for him inside. Nate with his Italian swagger and warm brown eyes that had a way of looking at her until she felt as though she weren’t all alone.

He didn’t say a word but she could feel his concern radiating off him, drawing her in and she turned. Big mistake, because Frankie had never been a hugger, but for some reason she got one look at those arms—arms that made a woman feel safe—and wanted to walk right in and make herself at home. But like she said, she wasn’t a hugger.

“If you’re here to make me an offer on the land, the answer is no.”

His eyes went warmer, if that were even possible. “We’re prepared to offer you double what you paid.”

“Wow. Did you expect me to jump up and down and say yes, when the entire town just discovered that the land is worth seven times what I paid?”

He took a step forward. Toward her. “Look, I just want to help. You and I both know that Saul screwed us.”

“
You
, golden boy. He screwed
you
,” she laughed. “I was straight up with Glow, did my homework, knew exactly what I was buying. And you heard the judge, I’ll be just fine.”

“What if you lose the house?”

“Then I sleep in the shed. Thanks for your concern.”
Not.

Frankie fumbled with unlatching the chin strap of her helmet, but her damn hands weren’t working. Okay, maybe she wasn’t going to be fine. Her personal life was nonexistent, her family life was a train wreck, and she really didn’t want to
think about how alone she’d felt in that courthouse. Even though she knew her brothers were in San Francisco picking up Dax, that Charles was probably never going to talk to her again, and that Aunt Lucinda would have had her back if Frankie had told her, some stupid part of her heart had held out hope that her family would come rushing in to stand by her side. Like Nate’s had.

But she had the land and a house—well, for at least the next thirty days. And she wasn’t going to screw this up. Now if she could just get Nate to stop looking at her like she was about to burst into tears at any minute she’d be fine.

“Francesca,” Nate said, stepping closer and making her wish she was the kind of girl who could cry. Because then he’d give her a hug, and she really needed one. “I know how much a new tank costs. I also know that Charles never paid you a cent of what you were worth, because he knew you were trying to prove yourself. After buying the land and losing the water tank, you have to be low on funds. Take my offer.”

When she was silent, hating that he knew her so well and wondering if maybe taking the money and moving somewhere else to start over was the best thing for her, he added, “I’m willing to raise it to two-point-five and offer you a job.”

Oh my god.
He’d done it. He knew she was upset about nobody showing up and he’d managed to humiliate her even more. This was why he’d come out here. Not to check on her or apologize. She knew better. “You are the most arrogant, idiotic jerk I have ever met. You actually think I’d take a job making wine for you?”

“You’re right.” He flung his hands in the air and he started to pace. It was a pissed off pace reserved for Frankie alone. With
everyone else he was calm, collected—nice. “
I’m
the jerk. I can see how you came to that accurate conclusion. I’m offering you more than double what you paid and a way to continue doing what you love without having to go groveling back to your asshole of a family.”

“My family members aren’t assholes,” she defended.

“Really?” he yelled—
yelled.
“Then please define ‘asshole’ for me, because I’m pretty sure it accurately describes a person who fires his granddaughter when she was just doing what’s right.”

Frankie wasn’t sure how to answer that. She also wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold his gaze, so she looked down at her helmet and fiddled with the strap. She’d been so sure that her day couldn’t get any worse. Man, had she been wrong. Here she was facing down the one person who could make her feel vulnerable and safe at the same time, and once again they were on opposite sides of the war.

Nate’s hand rested on top of hers, stilling her fingers. He took the helmet and placed it on her motorcycle. “I’m sorry about Charles. I know how much the winery and his relationship meant to you. And I’m sorry that all of this happened because I bullied you into sitting on the tribunal. I knew he’d be pissed if you helped us, but I had no idea he would retaliate like he did.” He stopped, his chocolate colored eyes melting with understanding—she studied her boots. “But you knew, didn’t you?”