You Really Got Me (25 page)

It wasn’t just her and Kevin. It wasn’t just the winery. In fact, when she thought about it, the winery was the
least
of their problems. The winery had survived before, despite her inept management, and it would survive again. But now…Jason’s career was at stake.

Chapter Nineteen

Jason wasn’t sure what prompted him to drive out past the winery later that afternoon. It wasn’t exactly on his way from the police station to his house. But he had to see Kendall.

She’d become so important to him. She’d given him so much. When she’d asked him to handcuff her last night, he’d thought his heart was going to explode. That kind of trust was so precious, and knowing he’d earned that from her made him feel both proud and humble.

And it made what he was going to have to do tomorrow that much more painful.

He drove past the unmarked car on the side of the road and turned into the entrance to the winery. When he arrived at the parking lot in front of the tasting room, his mouth dropped open. What the hell? All kinds of vehicles were parked there despite the sign on the door saying they were closed. It didn’t take long for him to figure out they were all reporters. Jesus Christ.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. Kendall was terrified of the reporters. He knew how much she was hurting over all this. She didn’t need that too. His chest ached at the thought that she was going through this alone, dealing with this shit all over again. He pulled out his cell phone.

He spoke to the dispatcher. “I need a squad car out here right away,” he said. “These people are trespassing on private property.”

“The family hasn’t complained.”

“Yeah. They have.” Jason spoke the words firmly. “Call a squad car and get them up here right now.”

“Okay, Chief.”

He climbed out of his vehicle and approached a group of three reporters standing in the afternoon sunshine, chatting and laughing. Hell. Someone had been murdered. “Hey,” he said. He flashed his badge. “Las Colinas Police. You all are trespassing on private property.”

They went silent, eyeing him. He gave them his sternest cop glare.

“You all need to move out,” he said, crossing his arms. “There’s a squad car on the way. None of you want to be arrested, I’m sure.”

They all began moving reluctantly away. He waited for the patrol car to arrive, and ensured everyone had left.

The doors to the tasting room were locked with a sign that said they were closed, but he saw people moving through the room. He hammered on the door. A woman answered.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said with a firm smile. “We’re closed.”

He paused. “I know. I’m looking for Kendall.”

“Oh.” She lifted a brow. “You’re not a reporter, are you?”

“No.” His lips lifted. “Chief Jason Holloway, Las Colinas PD.”

Her eyes widened and recognition flared. “Oh,” she said. Her eyebrows tugged together. “Okay, then. Come in. I’ll take you to her.”

She led him through a set of doors into a hallway with offices off it and glass windows looking into an enormous storage room full of huge wooden barrels. As they walked down the hall, the rumble of machinery grew louder, and she opened another door that led into another large area, like some kind of manufacturing plant, high ceilinged, industrial in appearance. Men moved around in fast, efficient work, loading plastic bins, and a forklift heaved a huge bin up in the air. Jason watched as it tipped a load of purple grapes into the machine.

The sweet earthy smell of the fruit filled the air along with the thumping rumble of machinery. He stood there, taking in the energy, the smell, the warm humid air.

“She’s right over there,” the woman spoke into his ear, gesturing to her right. He spotted Kendall talking to a group of men.

He just wanted to look at her. He could spend a lifetime looking at her. No, that wasn’t quite right—because he wanted to touch her too. He wanted it all.

She wore the most ridiculous baggy pair of overalls he’d ever seen over a short-sleeved T-shirt, and rubber boots. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy knot, wisps and pieces sticking up and bobbing as she nodded vigorously. She said something he couldn’t hear, gesturing with her hands. Then the men she was talking to nodded their heads in agreement.

How many sides to this woman were there? He remembered their first meeting at a charity function, her sophistication in black silk, diamonds, stiletto heels and shiny red lips. Then seeing her in the vineyard in jeans and boots. Sitting on his bed wearing nothing but his shirt, bare legs tucked beneath her, drinking wine. And now in this ugly get-up. She’d never looked so beautiful.

She looked up then—had she felt his gaze on her?—and their eyes met.

He walked toward her. She moved too, shouldering past one of the men, and they stopped, facing each other.

“Busy place,” he said, looking around.

“This is the crush.” She glanced around.

“Crush.” He nodded. “I thought you stomped on grapes with bare feet.”

Her answering smile was wan. “We’re a pretty big operation here. That would be fun, but not very productive.” Their eyes met and held, and then she looked away. “First we remove the stems, or as many as we can, then we crush the grapes in these crusher-destemmer machines.” She gestured to big plastic bins. “We add the yeast and let them ferment.”

“They ferment with the skins on?”

She gave him a look that said, “Duh” but she answered, “Yes. That’s where the flavors come from.”

Jason watched a man climb on a ladder and take a big stainless steel pole with a flat square on the end and start pushing into one of the vats. “And what is he doing?”

“Punching it down. Come over here.” She led him toward another vat. “Come up and see.” They climbed another ladder and he peered down into a pinkish-purple foamy looking surface. Kendall took a pole like the other man and pushed it into the vat, breaking through the cap. “This is Cabernet Franc. Like we had that night—” she paused and swallowed, “—at your place.” Then with both hands she punched down again with the pole. Immediately he was surrounded by an aroma, sweet and yeasty and fruity, filling his senses, exotic and beautiful and enticing. Like Kendall.

Kendall watched him and smiled.

“That’s incredible,” Jason said over the noise of the machinery.

“Yes, it is. I love this part. This is it—the richness of the earth, the warmth of the sun, the nectar of the fruit, the history of winemaking—when you smell this, it all comes together, so simple, so rewarding.”

He watched the play of muscles in her arms as she poked the mixture and stirred it all up, nicely curved arms, slender but strong.

Then they climbed down again and she handed the pole to another man with a smile.

She lifted a hand to swipe a curling tendril of hair off her face. He reached out and caught her hand, turned it palm up and examined it. It was stained purple.

Raising his gaze to her face, he gave a faint smile. “You really are involved with everything.”

Again, she met his eyes, no doubt recalling their conversation that night they’d drank Cabernet Franc in bed, followed by her blowing his mind by blowing him. And she smiled.

“I try.” She expelled a breath. “I can take a break. We can go up to the house if you want.”

“Okay.”

He followed her out of the room into the quieter hall. She didn’t change out of the overalls, just led him out a back door, which she made sure was locked behind them when it closed. They crunched up the gavel road toward the house, their shadows long and thin in front of them, the sun low in the late afternoon sky behind them.

He inhaled the fresh air, watched an eagle soar against the brilliant blue sky in the distance. “It’s nice here,” he said, knowing that nice was nowhere near the right word to describe the soul-touching peace and ease he felt.

“Yes. It is.” She turned to look down the road toward the gates and frowned. “Hey, all those reporters are gone.”

“I told them to leave.”

She looked at him, a smile playing on her mouth. “That’s all it took? You telling them to leave?”

“I may have called in a few reinforcements.”

“Ah.” She paused. “Thank you, Jason. Thank you so much. I want to close the gates, but we couldn’t get rid of them.”

Warmth spread through him that he’d done something to help, however small.

They stepped into the cool, dim house, quiet around them. “I’ll go quickly change and wash up,” she said, holding up her hands. “Have a seat in the family room. Would you like a drink or anything?”

“No, I’m good. Go ahead.”

He wandered into the family room, admiring the view out the tall arched windows, remembering sitting on that couch with Kendall and the heat that had exploded between them.

She returned moments later. Her hands were still faintly pink, her hair had been brushed out loose and glossy, and she’d changed into a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt.

“It seems wrong to be focusing on something other than Natalia,” she said quietly. “But we have to carry on.”

“Of course you do.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Debarros are going home tomorrow. To plan the funeral.”

“It won’t be held here?”

“No. They want to have it back home. But I’m thinking we may have a memorial service. I think a lot of people in town here would want to pay their respects.”

“And you? How are you doing?”

She let out a long breath. “I’m okay. I hate having to close the tasting room, but I’m sure people understand.”

“It sucks, but yeah. People will understand. I wish…” He wished he could do more. He wished he could make
this all better. He was working on it, and that was another thing he wished–that he could tell her about all that, that he could tell
her that soon this would all be over. “Uh…here. I brought you these.”

He handed her the box he’d been carrying around, wrapped in a plastic grocery bag. Jesus. What a loser he was. You were supposed to give a girl presents all wrapped in shiny paper and ribbons. And she was going to think he was nuts.

She blinked at him as she took the small parcel, opened the bag and pulled out the box of animal crackers. She stared at it for a long moment, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Then her dark eyes moved from the box to his face and he took in the liquid sheen in them.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She sucked on her bottom lip and blinked rapidly a few times. “I have to stay here tonight. Kevin, and Juan and Maria…I need to be here.”

“I know. And given the circumstances, it’s probably better if we…aren’t together.” He wanted to rub at the ache in his chest. He’d gotten used to having her in his bed this week. But he’d survive one night without her.

Except after what he had to do tomorrow, he had a sick feeling it was going to be a lot more than one night before she was back in his bed again. Or maybe ever.

The television flickered silently in the dark room later that night. Jason had tried to watch some action movie but realized he wasn’t taking in a word of it, so he’d cranked down the volume and now sat staring into space, alone in his house.

Today should have been the kids’ open house at the station. He pressed his fingertips to his eyeballs. He’d had this crazy idea about bringing kids into the station and showing them law enforcement equipment, taking their fingerprints and generally building relationships with the community. They’d had hot dogs, a gazillion balloons and soft drinks on order and now they’d had to cancel.

Postpone. They’d postponed it until a better day. Everyone would understand. The response to the event had been so enthusiastic, Jason hated to have to cancel, but really, they had no other choice. Even though they didn’t have the report from the coroner’s office yet, he knew they had a murder investigation on their hands. Pressure came crashing down on him again, tightening his lungs, hardening the muscles in his neck and shoulders and intensifying the pounding in his head. Sleep. Yeah, he needed a good night’s sleep.

But that wasn’t so easy when his mind was busy shifting back and forth between hot sex with Kendall and a fucking murder case. He let out a low groan.

He moved to his stereo and impulsively started the playlist Kendall had made for him. Driving chords opened “You Really Got Me” by the Kinks. He sat and listened to the lyrics and a smile tugged at his lips.

The song ended just as a loud rap on the door echoed through the house, and he turned at the sound of the back door opening. Had to be Denny. Nobody else would walk in like that.

“Jase? You home?” The old man appeared in the doorway, then frowned. “What the hell? Sitting here all by yourself in the dark?”

“Yeah.”

Another song started, he thought it was Jimi Hendrix, and he flicked the remote control to turn the volume down low.

Denny’s tough face softened. “I heard the news.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

Jesus, why was everyone worried about
him
? It’s not like
he’d
just lost someone. “I’m fine.”

Denny, uninvited, strolled in and sat stiffly on a chair. He had problems with both his hips, Jason knew, and they must be bothering him tonight. “What are you doing out so late?” he asked the older man.