Page 14 of Rare Blend
She’s notorious for these tangents. I don’t think I’ll be getting distracted by any “local boys,” as she put it. If they’re anything like the asshole I dealt with earlier, I’m going to be just fine. I may not have the greatest taste in men, but I can confidently say it’s definitely not rude and entitled dicks who dress like they should be on the cover of a lumberjack magazine.
“You’re really going hard on thedistracting menlecture today, aren’t you?”
“All I’m saying is we don’t need a Brandon repeat.,” she continues, paying no mind to my snarky comment. “Stop letting men hold you back. They can’t be trusted. You can have a little fun, sure, but keep it at that. Attachments lead to heartbreak.”
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. My mom has been lecturing some version of that since I was old enough to think boys were cute. To say she was disappointed when I called her after Brandon cheated would be an understatement. She was livid. Not at Brandon, but at me, for not being smart enough to predict he would do what he did. I should’ve been more prepared, had more money put aside, I should’ve never gotten involved with a coworker, let alone one of my superiors. The list goes on and on. It’s my own fault for telling her in the first place. If I hadn’t been so emotional, I would’ve lied and said wedecided to part ways. Make it sound amicable and mature. Silly me for thinking she would comfort me instead of lecture me.
I’ve long since come to terms with the fact that my mom will never fully accept any of my romantic relationships. No man is good enough simply because he’s a man.
“Okay, okay. I hear you.” This conversation has grown exhausting. “Listen, I have a lot of unpacking to do. Can we talk another time? I’ll call you later on this week after I’ve settled in.”
She hums her agreement and, in the background, I hear laughter and her name being called. “Alright. Sí Dios quiere. I’ll be near the Bahamas. Check time zones.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you,” she happily sings like she didn’t just lay into me. “Dios te bendiga,” she adds, never one to end a phone call without tacking on a blessing.
The call with my mom depleted any remaining energy I had. Abandoning the suitcases and boxes begging to be unpacked, I crawl into bed. I’m usually only the napping type when I’m sick, but as soon as my head hits the pillow, not even the bright sun can prevent me from drifting off.
CHAPTER 6
Ethan
KILL ME, DO IT FAST
Tawny taps on the door frame of my office. “Hey, why don’t you go home? Get some rest. You look like shit.”
“Jesus, tell me the truth why don’t you.”
“You don’t pay me enough to lie.”
It’s only six, and there’s still so much to take care of; the pile is never-ending. But I’m gassed, and if Tawny is telling me to go home, who am I to argue?
I’ve only been back in Red Mountain for about a month and a half, and due to the short notice, my options for accommodations were limited, forcing me to freeload in one of the winery rental cottages until I find a more permanent solution. There’s a foundation poured on the plot of land my parents parceled off to me, but the walls never went up. The thought of dredging up that mess overwhelms me. That was my old life, my old plans.
I park my truck on a dirt pathway and make the short trek to the cottages. As they come into view, I get an odd feeling that someone has been here. It’s like the sense you get as a kid when you know a sibling has been in your room, even though nothing looks disturbed. But when I look around, nothing seems suspicious, so I chalk it up to my lack of sleep.
Goose greets me at the door, his tail wagging with excitement. My little sister, Ariana, came by to check on him earlier and let him out for a potty break. I feel bad that he’s been alone for most of the day. I would love to bring him with me to work, but with it being peak season, it would be too chaotic to have a giant German Shepherd, who thinks he’s a puppy, running around the place.
“Hey, buddy.” I crouch down and scratch the spot behind his ears.
He groans and pushes his head further into my hand, trying to get a deeper scratch.
“Where’s your leash?”
His ears perk up. Damn dog is too smart for his own good. A leash means a walk, and he lives for our walks. Goose runs off and then quickly returns with his leash between his teeth.
“Alright, bud, let’s go.” I snap the leash in place to his collar and let him drag me out the door. It’s dog walking 101 to not let your dog drag you during a walk, but this guy has had me wrapped around his fingers since day one and I let him get away with just about anything.
Goose happily trots along, kicking up sand and gravel with each bounce of his step, and pausing a few times to pee. There’s less than an hour of daylight left before the sun disappears behind the ridge. For now, though, it casts an array of oranges and pinks across the river valley, bathing everything in a glow you can only experience this time of the year. Despite the days getting shorter and the unpredictable temperature highs and lows, nothing beats Red Mountain in the fall. Even a few years away couldn’t make me forget that.
As we walk, I take in the rows of vines stretched out before me. Their leaves are fading from green to gold, a sign that fall is in full effect. The crisp air is tinged with the earthy scent of soiland ripe grapes, a nostalgic smell that always reminds me of my childhood and the chaos surrounding harvest.
Goose starts tugging on his leash, snapping me back to the present, trying to get out of my hold. I could probably walk him out here without a leash since there isn’t anyone around, but he’s a little shit and would find trouble, just like he’s trying to do now when he spots a jackrabbit a couple hundred yards away.
I give the leash a tug. “Goose, inside. Now.”
Like a good boy, he obliges, while glancing longingly at the jackrabbit he doesn’t get to attack today, and we go back inside.
