skeptical when she’d found this land opportunity in Texas, but he’d supported her and agreed to come along for a few months to help her establish her first vineyard. He understood how desperately she needed to make a new beginning after Daryl had walked out on her and Megan.
Over the past month they’d identified the ten acres that had the best potential, the optimum incline and drainage. They’d tested the water, analyzed the soil and installed an irrigation system. Last week he’d flown to California and personally arranged for the shipment of select vinifera vines.
Texas boasted a growing number of flourishing vineyards. All Kayla’s studies indicated this one should be equally successful.
“Finish your milk, honey, and then get your backpack,” Kayla told her daughter. “The school bus will be here in a few minutes.”
“I’m going to ride Birdsong this afternoon, Grandpa,” the girl sang. She’d been grounded over the weekend for her temper tantrum at the Broken Spoke on Friday, yet that was all but forgotten.
“You be careful now.” He smiled at his granddaughter.
At this point Kayla wasn’t sure she was as thrilled with the idea of Megan riding. Facing Ethan Ritter again wasn’t something she particularly relished. The man had a sharp tongue, which was aggravating, and other aspects she found disturbing in a different way. His good looks, for instance. The shape of his mouth and the warmth in his green eyes made her entertain possibilities she thought she’d dismissed from her life when she’d divorced Daryl last year. Distractions she didn’t have time for now.
She couldn’t deny that she found Ethan’s personality intriguing, too. He projected strength and self-confidence, but also vulnerability. He was obviously good with kids—at least he’d been with Megan—which added to his appeal. Still, something about the man unsettled her, something she couldn’t put her finger on.
He was opinionated and critical, yet she felt safe with him, perhaps because of the protective way he’d reacted to Megan. Whatever it was, it had her spending too much time thinking about the guy.
“We’ll go over to the Broken Spoke right after you get home from school and change clothes,” she told Megan.
She was tempted to add that this first lesson might not last very long but decided not to dampen the girl’s enthusiasm. Megan would be preoccupied enough in class today without worrying about how long she’d get to ride her precious horse. “Now hurry. You don’t want to miss the bus.”
Ten minutes later the house was quiet.
“Are you sure about this riding business?” her father asked, over his second cup of coffee.
“Maybe this is just a phase, like Ethan says, but, Dad, how can I deny her the opportunity to find out?”
“Is that what Ritter thinks?”
She didn’t miss his use of the neighbor’s last name. “He says adolescence will probably distract her—”
“Woo her away, huh?” He smiled at her over the rim of his cup.
“Something like that.”
“How much time is this latest obsession of hers going to eat up?”
His tone was more amused than critical. Megan wanted to see and try everything. Most of the time her interest waned after the initial experience, but her fascination with horses hadn’t so far, and his concern had merit. Work on the vineyard, this first year especially, would absorb all Kayla’s spare time, another reason why Ethan had been right in discouraging her from buying a horse—for a while at least.
“Three one-hour lessons a week, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We’re only a few minutes away—it’ll actually be less intrusive than having to take her to soccer or basketball.”
Boyd drank down the last of his coffee and got up from the table. “I’m going to walk the lines one more time.”
There was nothing wrong with the miles of wire they’d strung for the vines. But starting from scratch was a new adventure for both of them, and he was as nervous about it as she was.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He turned at the door. “For what?”
“Being here for us.”
His expression, often so intense and pensive, softened. “I’m the one who should be thanking you—for having me.”
Kayla got up, walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll let you know when they call.”
IT TOOK A MINUTE for Kayla to recognize the white Ford crew cab barreling up the long driveway that afternoon. It was common for neighbors here to visit, out of friendliness and curiosity. Several people from town had already dropped by to welcome her and ask how she was fixing to use the land.
“Hi.” Ethan opened the truck door. “I thought I’d take a look at how things are going. Hear you got your vines delivered today.”
“Welcome to Stony Hill Vineyard,” Kayla said, not sure why she felt so pleased to see him. Or why she thought he looked so good in a red-plaid flannel shirt and a down-filled vest.
He hooked his thumbs in the corners of his jeans pockets. “I don’t know anything about vineyards, or wine, for that matter, except I can tell what I like when I taste it.”
“That’s a good start. White or red?”
“White mostly. But I like a hearty red with a thick, juicy steak, too.”
“A man after my own heart.” In more ways than one. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
She led him to the tin barn they were using as a warehouse. Large, wooden crates were lined up, open, each with dozens of clipped shoots sticking out like porcupine quills. A few showed green nubs ready to burst, but most were still dormant. Her father was in the far corner frowning over the contents of a damaged crate.
“Dad!”
Straightening, he saw their visitor and began walking toward them. At fifty-six he was beginning to develop the rounded shoulders of a man who spent his days bent over. He wasn’t overweight, but what he carried was beginning to settle.
“This is Ethan Ritter, our next-door neighbor.”
Boyd removed his work gloves and they shook hands. Kayla watched as the two men sized each other up.
“He’s here for the grand tour,” she said.
“Not a lot to see right now,” her father commented. “We just got these in a couple of hours ago. Wait a few months after we get them in the ground, though, and everything greens up. Prettiest sight you ever did see.”
Ethan surveyed the rows of oblong boxes, apparently surprised by the large number. “How many…vines do you have here?”
“Six thousand,” Boyd said, “Enough for ten acres.”
“What kind are they?”
“Chenin blanc.”
“Come on,” Kayla said. “I’ll show you where we’ll plant them.”
“I’ve got to get back to work. You two run along.” Boyd waved as he returned to the damaged crate. “Nice meeting you, Ethan. Stop by anytime.”
“He loves this, doesn’t he?” Ethan commented as they stepped out into the bright afternoon sun.
The remark pleased Kayla, perhaps because she also heard approval in it. The two would get along fine, she decided.
She led him to a slope that was out of sight of the house and the road.
Ethan took in the rows of poles and wires as Kayla explained that her father had used the augur on their tractor to make holes in the ground every eight feet.
“Our initial yields won’t be