Love in the Vineyard (The Tavonesi Series Book 7) (33 page)

Eddie
.

He hadn’t waited for her to contact him. She kept coming back to the same question—why after so many years was he in such a damned hurry?

She read the title across the top of the page again—
Uniform Parentage: Petition for Custody and Support
—a rather dry grouping of words for a possibly life-altering document. It should have said:
warning, an asshole is about to take your kid!
She flipped to the blank form at the back—
Declaration Under Uniform Child Custody Jurisdiction and Enforcement Act
. A declaration? What was she supposed to declare? Was she supposed to fill it out? She wanted to burn it.

The front door banged open.

“Mom! You missed my home run. But Brandon and I got to have pizza.”

“A home run, that’s great, honey.”

“More than great, we won seven to five. We get to go to the regionals.”

And she’d missed the game.

“You had work, huh, Mom?”

“Lots of work. But it’s almost done.” She scooped up the papers and stuffed them into the envelope.

“Adrian stayed for the entire game. Then he had pizza with us. He’s awesome, Mom. And I think he likes you.”

“Why do you say that?” She couldn’t resist asking.

“He told Monica that you have a real talent with plants—something like that. But it was the way he said it, special-like. Like in the movies. You know, those gooey ones you like to watch.”

Her heart did a little flip. Someday Tyler would fall in love and battle with his heart. But for tonight she needed to get him settled down and doing his homework so she could focus and make some phone calls for help.

“Ten-minute break,” she said, tousling his hair. “And then get out here and do your homework.”

He ducked away from her hand. “Can’t we go to town for an ice cream? We made the
regionals
. Only four teams get to go.”

“We’ll celebrate this weekend.”

“Adrian’s right. You are a tough cookie.”

After Natasha saw Tyler into bed, she went into the kitchen and made a cup of chamomile tea. She dreaded sleep and the dreams it might bring. The nightmare of the past few days was bad enough. Her employee had embezzled funds, the man who’d cracked her heart open to love—who also happened to be her
boss
—thought she was a thief, and a man who’d seared ugly fears into her soul so many years ago, fears she still battled every day, was about to lay claim to her son.

But worse than all those challenges combined was the drag of sadness that threatened to engulf her. She’d known all along that a future with Adrian was impossible. At least she’d always known it in her head. But now? Now she knew it in her heart.

Chapter Twenty-Three

ADRIAN DOWNED A SECOND ESPRESSO AND then drove to the vineyard. All morning he’d rerun his conversation with Natasha at the ballgame in his head.
Why
hadn’t she accepted his forgiveness? The money didn’t matter. He knew she’d had a good reason to do something so drastic.

He had to see her, to smooth things over. To convince her that he’d help—now and in the future—with whatever it was that had forced her to take the funds.

He parked next to the Casa gift shop. With long, impatient strides he reached the greenhouse. She wasn’t in her office. He checked his watch. Nine fifteen. She never came in late.

Enrique entered the greenhouse with a wheelbarrow full of dirt.

“Have you seen Natasha?”

“No, Mr. Tavonesi.”

The man’s searching gaze made Adrian uncomfortable.

“That’s good-looking soil,” Adrian said, turning his attention to the wheelbarrow.

“Casa compost. Best I’ve ever worked with.”

When Adrian looked up, Enrique was still staring.

“What?” He hated to be stared at.

“There’s something you should know, sir.”

“I’ll be back later today,” Adrian said as he headed for the door. He wasn’t in any mood to discuss business right then. He had to find Natasha.

“It’s about Señora Raley.”

Adrian stopped. Pivoted.

“What is it?” He hadn’t meant for his tone to be curt, but his nerves were on edge.

As Adrian drove to Natasha’s, he fought down his urge to be angry—jealous?—that Natasha had confided in Enrique but not him. Natasha’s car was parked in front of her apartment. Adrian pulled in behind it.

When she answered his knock, her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“But
I
want to talk to you.” His voice was tight with restrained emotion. Normally he loved the way she stood up to him, the way she didn’t defer to him just because he was her boss. But not now. “I spoke with Enrique.”

Her eyes widened. “He shouldn’t have told you.” She motioned him inside. Her stiff posture said more than words could.

“
You
should’ve told me something as important as this.”

“His grandmother could
die
. Surely you can understand the urgency.”

Adrian wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “His grandmother? What does Enrique’s grandmother have to do with anything?”

“If you prosecute him and he goes to prison, there’s no one to help her. And if they flee to Colombia, he’ll be killed by the drug cartel. And
then
she’ll die. Her blood would be on your hands.”

“Prosecute Enrique? Why would I do that? And what does Colombia have to do with anything?” He touched a hand to her arm, and she flinched. “I’m talking about the man that’s stalking you, threatening you.”

Her face paled and went blank. Evidently the conversation he’d had with Enrique wasn’t the one she’d surmised they’d had. He felt like he’d entered a play in the second or third act.

“Natasha, take a breath. It’ll be all right. We can sort this out.”

“That’s what I told him.”

“The man threatening you?”

“No,
Enrique
. This whole thing is my fault. He never would have had access to your accounts if I hadn’t given it to him. But without him, I couldn’t do the damned job.”

Suddenly he understood that she was talking about the missing funds. “Enrique took the money?”

She crossed her arms and hugged her elbows in tight, as if holding back her emotions.

“
See
what happens when you try to control people? You think you can just sail in and adjust them, like… like they were puppets in your grand scheme. Well, that doesn’t work.” Anger had edged into her voice. She pointed her finger at him. “You can’t make choices for others.”

She wasn’t holding back now. But he’d rather hear her angry than sad.

“None of us would’ve been in this situation if it weren’t for you forcing me into this job. I
can’t
read. I
can’t
do accounts.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have dissociative dyslexia.” She put her hands to her hips as if squaring for a fight. “Numbers and words swim off the page. Especially when I’m upset.” Her chin went up. “I can’t read, Adrian.”

Her words landed in his brain and shot straight to his heart. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want your pity. And I needed the job. This
man
Enrique told you about—he’s Tyler’s father. A man Tyler has never met. A man who didn’t know Tyler existed before a few weeks ago. Yet now he could take my son away from me. All the courts need to see is that I was on welfare, that I landed my son in a homeless shelter, that I lost two jobs in less than a year. That I can’t read.”

His head spun. “
Aspetta
. I would never have fired you. I never would. You can hire someone to do the things you can’t.”

He should’ve seen the signs. He remembered her not reading the park pamphlet and that she’d had him read the program to her that night at the ballet. He’d been an ignorant, arrogant ass, seeing only what he wanted to see.

But right then all he could focus on was the man threatening to take Tyler from her, threatening her.

“I’m more concerned about this man you’re speaking of—Tyler’s father. What’s his name?”

If he was going to help her, he needed information.

She blew out a breath. “Eddie. Edward Markiston the third, to be precise. He said he wanted to be a part of our lives. That he wants to marry me. To give Tyler a father.” She slammed her palm down on the table, startling Adrian. “But he didn’t wait. Why he’s in such a hellfire hurry all of a sudden, out of the blue, I don’t know. He’s already sent a court summons.” She drew her brows together and bit at her bottom lip. “He saw us on the big screen at the Giants game last month. Right now I
hate
baseball!”

And then the tears he’d expected finally flowed. He pulled her to him and though she let him hold her, she felt stiff in his arms. But as the sobs racked through her, she slowly melted against him. Adrian smoothed a hand over her hair. “Tell me about this Eddie,” he prompted in a quiet, calm voice. A voice that didn’t reveal the anger boiling in him at the prospect of her marrying the man she’d described. A man she feared. The thought of Natasha marrying the guy floored him. Hell, he didn’t want her marrying anyone except him. The realization slammed into his brain, mocking him for ignoring what his heart had known since the first days he’d spent with her. But now was no time for addressing what he wanted, what he needed.

“I was eighteen.”

She shuddered against his chest. And the story of the night she conceived Tyler spilled out of her in a torrent. Adrian didn’t need to hear the gruesome details—he felt the effects in her body with her every word. And with every revelation, his anger became harder to control.

She’d been beaten and then left pregnant by the
bastardo
, a man she could never go to for help. And now the same man was after Tyler.

“Eddie told me he’s changed; he’s in some sort of program for veterans. He wants to make a fresh start. Some part of me believes him. Actually, most of me believes him. But that doesn’t mean I want him anywhere near Tyler.” She rubbed at her eyes. “There’s something else going on, something he’s keeping from me, and that more than anything has me frightened.”

Though Adrian believed people could change—could overcome trauma and lead better lives—he wouldn’t believe this guy had changed until he had convincing proof. Proof that Natasha couldn’t get her hands on.

But he could.

There were advantages to having a father with a career as an undercover agent. Adrian was about to tap those advantages for better or for worse.

And though he knew Natasha could again accuse him of thinking he knew best, of manipulating lives, it was a risk he’d have to take.

Natasha pushed away from him but didn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. That’s more than you probably wanted to know. And I shouldn’t have lashed out at you about my promotion. I should’ve just told you the truth. I should’ve—”

“Shhhh.” He handed her his handkerchief. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I should’ve consulted you. What I did was wrong in every way.”

“Not in every way,” she said as she wiped the handkerchief across her cheeks. “You meant well, I know that. But on top of all that, I was mad that you assumed that I was a thief. Hurt that you didn’t talk to me before coming to such a damning conclusion.”

“I was concerned about
you
, not about the money. I wasn’t thinking straight. I jumped to conclusions, and I’m sorry for that. I wanted to fix whatever was wrong, to help. It’s a stubborn trait.”

“There are far worse traits to have. I try never to lie. But one day, when you have a child, you’ll understand the ends you’ll go to, even against your better judgment. But I am sorry for not telling you the truth.”

He reached for the handkerchief. She looked first at him, then at the cloth. His fingers brushed hers as he took it and dabbed it lightly against her cheek, drying the last of her tears. His mind was already spinning into action. She still needed help, help he could provide. Help she might not accept. Help that might anger her but which he would provide anyway.