Page 2 of No Rhyme or Riesling

Christ. This was like pulling teeth. Ward wasn't usually so hesitant. “Knows what?” John asked, wishing the man would spit it out already, whatever it was.

Ward shrugged, still focused on the weed. The big man looked almost vulnerable in that moment, which was an odd sight. Ward was taller and broader than John by a couple inchesand built entirely of muscle. By looks alone, the man was an alpha beast if there ever was one.

But he was also one of the quietest and gentlest men John had ever met. It made their work relationship not just tolerable but pleasant. Ward was easy-going and did what he was told.

Not that Ward was remotely submissive. He haddomwritten all over him but he also knew his place in the pecking order around there. The man never questioned John's authority.

Still, it was weird to see him looking so uncertain.

“It's just,” Ward began quietly, staring off into the distance as he spoke, “I've been to some of Beau's parties. And some are industry based, and those are fine. All the wine people. Lots of shop talk. But there have also been some that are very…” Ward trailed off before he finally finished, “Queer.”

John's whole body went tense. He never talked about his relationship at work, so Ward probably didn't even know he was gay. If they were about to have a problem over that, it would make working with the man absolutely impossible. No way in hell was he going to work with a homophobe. “You have a problem with gays?” John bit off.

“What?” Ward asked with a frown, looking genuinely confused. Then he gasped. “No! God, no.” He laughed. “Geez, John, it's not like that. I know Beau's gay. And a lot of his friends are. Hell, our new boss is gay. Or, at least, bi. And then there's Theo and Haven in the tasting room, of course. Man, they make a cute couple, don't they? And so is my brother, for that matter, and we're as close as brothers can be.”

“Oh.” John felt a shudder run through his limbs as all the fight drained out of him.Christ. He ran a hand back through his hair, shaking off the dizziness of emotional whiplash. “Good.”

Ward tossed the remains of the weed aside. “I guess I'm just wondering if Beau's invite means he knows that I've beenfeeling–” He broke off with a curse and shook his head. “That man is a little too intuitive for his own good.”

“Ha!” John slowly nodded. “Yeah.” There had been a couple times, in years past, when Beau casually mentioned hosting some type of gay mixer event, then outright stated he wasn't inviting John. Like he knew John's heart was already taken despite John never saying a word about it.

Because even during their eight long years apart, John had never stopped loving Adam.

“Sometimes, I swear it's like he can read minds,” Ward went on. “Or maybe I said something without realizing…” A frown creased his brow. “Fuck. Never mind. I told him I wasn't sure if I could make it, but…”

John chuckled when Ward trailed off again. “He didn't takenofor an answer, did he?”

Ward barked a laugh. “No, he did not. He's funny like that.”

“Yeah, he is.” John shifted his weight from one foot to the other while Ward's laughter faded into silence.Well?Something about Beau's invitation was clearly still bothering the man, but John wasn't sure he had the energy to press Ward for it. He was about to make an excuse about needing to leave when Ward finally shook his head again and straightened up.

“We really need to tear these out this winter,” Ward said, gesturing at the vines all around them.

John tensed again. Not just from mental jarring of a sudden subject change, but at that particular subject change. He clenched his jaw and reached out to touch the vines again, feeling a desperate need to hold on to them.Christ. He didn't want to rip out this section of the vineyard. It would mean losing his favorite spot for at least a few years while the land sat fallow and recovered.

He frowned as he stepped closer, seeing just how weak the vines looked.Hell.They should have ripped them out lastwinter. John knew that. But he'd resisted, hoping to force one more year of production out of them before he faced seeing them torn from the ground.

Before he had to face telling the boss that they'd be down one product in their catalog for the next few years.

Damn it. He'd had to do that with his old boss, too. Six years ago, back before the vineyard changed ownership, the pinot noir grapes had to get torn out to give the land a chance to recover. That had been a blow. Pinot noir was one of their bigger sellers, so losing that product from their lineup had meant a noticeable financial hit. They'd debated the merits of buying in grapes from another vineyard to still make the wine, but Vista Robles had always prided itself on doing everything in-house. Having to announce that to the boss had left John a bundle of nerves. Hehateddisappointing people.

Especially after the way he'd let Adam down nine years ago. Not to mention, himself.

And Adam's dad, for that matter.

John blew out a heavy breath and tried to force those memories aside, but it wasn't easy. This was the place he came when he needed to be alone, to remember Adam, to think about all the choices he'd made. All the regrets he had.

Then again, he had Adam now. The boy was back in his life, and they could finally be together. Maybe he wouldn't need to rely on this place for comfort and retreat as much anymore.

Yeah, right. He knew losing these vines was going to hurt like hell. This place was so wrapped up with thoughts of Adam in his mind, John knew he wouldn't be able to let it go.

“No riesling for a few years,” Ward went on, “but we can manage that. It's not one of our bigger productions.”

John crossed his arms over his chest, hiding his clenched fists. When it came to raw numbers, Ward was right. Riesling was way down the list in terms of production volume, so itwouldn't be nearly the blow that pinot noir had been. But just the thought of seeing this land bare—seeing it all ripped up and gone to weed, even temporarily—made John's skin crawl.

Ward's phone rang, interrupting the conversation before John could find a suitable reply. The man pulled his phone out and glanced at the screen. “Speaking of my brother. Sorry, I should take this.”

“Yeah. Of course.” John waved him away and watched as Ward trudged back off to the truck, answering his call as he went.

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