Page 43 of Love Among Vines

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

JADE

“Damn it, Penny!” Jade called after the dog.

Penny zoomed away, hotdog waggling from one corner of her mouth.

Rett turned away from the grill. “It’s fine. We have plenty more.”

He was wearing a Kiss the Cook apron, which Tom seemed to have taken as an open-ended invitation.

Jade raised an eyebrow. “You say that now, but when she has catastrophic gas later you’re going to change your tune.”

She took the platter and moved it to the picnic table where it would hopefully be out of reach.

“Sorry we’re late,” Elena called. She and an older woman appeared around the side of the house. “Abuela insisted on defrosting some arepas.”

She dropped a Ziplock bag on the table and helped her grandmother sit in the lounger Rett had parked at the head of the table.

Jade rushed over with a pitcher of iced tea and a fresh glass.

“Jade, this is my grandmother, Antonia.”

Jade shook her hand. “Hola, Antonia. Soy Jade.”

Antonia smiled. “Encantada!”

Tom leapt out of his Adirondack chair. A bag of wine was slung around his shoulders like a travel pillow. “Antonia!” He removed the bag and held it high. “Slap the bag. Er—what was it again, Cindy?”

Cindy joined him and drew Elena’s grandmother into a tight hug. “Golpea la bolsa.”

Antonia giggled and opened her mouth. Tom stood next to her and opened the spigot. She gulped for a few seconds, then reached over and slapped the bag. Everyone cheered. Tom set the bladder of probably lukewarm wine on the picnic table in front of her and bowed.

“So how does this work?” Jade asked.

“Antonia is now the keeper of the bag. She decides who drinks next.”

Oof. Jade definitely should have packed some Tums. She topped off Antonia’s glass of iced tea and hustled back to the grill before she could be named the next victim.

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” Rett said. He opened the lid of the grill and carefully inspected the burger patties inside before flipping them.

Jade took the spatula from him. “I am a woman of many mysteries.”

And by mysteries, she meant she had leaned heavily on language learning apps during her two-year artistry hiatus.

“I’ll clean these and bring them back,” she said. “Will you make sure Penny doesn’t steal anything else?”

“Of course.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Her heart staggered, and a stupid smile spread over her face.

Shit. Feelings. She needed to think of his negatives. What were they again? Emotionally unavailable. Workaholic. Family baggage.

It wasn’t helping.

Should she talk to Rett about it? But what if he shut her down and made things awkward and she lost the last week she was meant to have with him?

She scurried away in the hopes of leaving the thoughts behind. She couldn’t be falling in love with him. They had barely known each other more than a week.

Get it together, Jade . She was doing the same shit she always did, falling head over heels for someone she barely knew.

Though he hadn’t explicitly said it, Rett could very well be hung up on his ex.

He hadn’t made any effort to find love again after the breakup. He wasn’t willing to open his heart.

No matter what her idiot brain was telling her, she didn’t have a place here. She needed to focus on her career and the mural. She washed and dried the spatula, then cast a glance around his massive house. Maybe she’d stumble upon a deal-breaker.

A painting caught her eye. She strode over to the hallway between the living room and the stairs to the basement.

The last time she was here, she swore this spot on the wall had been occupied by a generic piece of Hobby Lobby art.

Now, however, her painting of Penny frolicking in the vineyard hung in its place.

Fuck.

What did it mean that he had chosen to display it?

It would force him to think about Jade and Penny every time he walked by. Did he want that? Maybe he was good at dissociating and would be able to think of it objectively. Just a cute dog in a vineyard. Nothing painful or meaningful attached to it.

Uproarious laughter trickled in from outside, and she jumped. There was no need to figure out the emotional significance of a breakthrough painting hanging in Rett’s house right now. She needed to get the damn spatula outside before the burgers transformed into charcoal.

She hustled onto the patio to see Rett kneeling in the grass next to Antonia. She held the bag at shoulder height and laughed as liquid dribbled into his mouth. He rose to his feet with a triumphant fist pump and slapped the bag. Antonia clapped her hands delightedly when he took it from her.

He turned, still holding the bag. His eyes zeroed in on Jade. He pointed at her.

“No way.” She held her hands up in front of her like she was reasoning with a madman. “I’m wielding the spatula.”

Chugging bottom-shelf wine was a surefire way to spend all of Sunday stranded in bed.

“Come on.” His eyebrows waggled. “I have ibuprofen.”

She smiled. “Fine.”

She set the spatula down, then lifted her head. Rett opened the spout.

“Chug, chug, chug,” everyone chanted behind her.

A very warm chardonnay washed down her throat.

It tasted like undergrad. Her shoulders hunched up, and she did a full-body shudder.

He finally closed the tap, and she wiped her mouth on her T-shirt.

There was definitely some chardonnay in her bra.

Between that and the 5k and the shouting match with Nate, she desperately needed a shower.

Maybe she could convince Rett to follow her in when everyone left.

Rett raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, right.” She slapped the bag, and everyone cheered.

“As the keeper of the bag, I’m giving it a mandatory ten-minute rest in the freezer. Lukewarm white wine is a crime against humanity.”

“She’s right,” Rett added.

Everyone else grumbled but didn’t argue when she disappeared through the back door. She plopped the bag in the freezer before coming back out.

“Let’s eat,” Rett announced, setting platters on the picnic table.

Everyone gathered around. Jade carefully assembled a burger on one of Antonia’s arepas, and it was basically a flavor explosion in her mouth. Her head swam pleasantly from the crappy wine.

Next to her, Rett stood up. He lifted his glass. Oh, shit. Aside from a handful of picnics at Flushing Meadows Park, she didn’t have a lot of experience at barbecues. Did toasts normally happen?

“I just wanted to say a couple of things while everyone was here,” he began. “I know I haven’t been incredibly present over the last couple of years. It’s probably been what, two years since we last had a cookout?”

Gemma nodded.

“Right. I really buried myself in work when my grandmother passed. Taking over the winery felt like an impossible, all-encompassing task. But I think I’m starting to see the other side.” He glanced down at Jade with a smile, and a thrill ran through her.

“I appreciate all of you for sticking with me. I don’t know that I deserve it, but I’m really grateful for all your friendships.”

“You’re right, mate. You don’t deserve us,” Tom announced. Cindy smacked him. “But we love you anyway,” he added.

“To us.” Rett raised his glass.

“To us,” they all parroted.

“And to Jade because she’s the one who reminded you there’s more to life than work,” Elena announced loudly.

Jade smiled, and the others toasted to her.

As they ate, conversation ebbed and flowed like the current of the lake behind them.

“So then,” Cindy said in the middle of a lengthy soliloquy, “Rett was never one to turn down a dare, right?”

Gemma nodded enthusiastically.

Rett planted a hand over his face. “Do we have to tell this story in front of Antonia?”

“Yes.” Cindy patted the bag of wine, of which she had recently become the keeper.

“So when Tony Bianchi dared him to strip naked and run down Market Street at four in the morning, he just ripped all his clothes off and took off. Until he got cocky, turned to look over his shoulder, and ran headlong into a parked police car.”

“And that is the story of how my mom had to fly back from Hollywood and attend several fundraising events for the local police force in order to save my juvenile criminal record,” Rett said. “She still talks about it.”

“Gemma,” Cindy said with a strong, pointed finger. “Slap the bag.”

“Ugh, fine.” Her gaze drifted in the direction of Damian, who had driven his boat over shortly after everyone arrived.

He took a long sip of the pinot noir Rett had brought out and raised his eyes over the rim of the glass. Gemma went pink and turned away from him. These two were clearly destined to marry each other—or kill each other.

Once dinner was over, Jade and Rett cleared the plates and piled them in the dishwasher.

“So you’re a streaker?” She shot a look back over her shoulder at him as she tossed dishes in.

“I’m afraid I’ve had to retire my public birthday suit.”

“That’s too bad. I could really use another rooftop rendezvous.”

“It doesn’t count as public nudity if it’s on your own property. Probably,” he said with a puzzled expression.

She smiled. She was really going to miss this place.

He looked over her shoulder. “You’re quite possibly the worst dishwasher loader I have ever encountered.”

Jade spluttered. “What do you mean? All the dishes are in there.”

It wasn’t like she had thrown them in a flat pile.

“Sure, but there’s no system. You have dinner plates next to dessert plates. Salad forks in the same compartment as dinner forks.”

“What does it matter if they all get clean?”

Rett leaned over and started rearranging. “It makes the unloading process less efficient.”

“I’m starting to realize why you’re still single. Pick your battles, buttface.”

“Did you just call me buttface?”

“I’m sorry, where are my manners? Should I have called you His Royal Highness, Prince of Correct Dishwasher Loading? Keeper of Pristine Wine Goblets? Micromanager of Cleanliness? The Third?”