THE CITRUS COVE WINE & Ciders’s parking lot was empty except for my red Corvette and Cam’s big-ass truck.
Seriously, there was no need for a truck that big. Right? I shook my head as I went to the side door of the restored barn as he’d instructed. I was grateful that we weren’t meeting early given that I didn’t leave Colt’s until about 2 A.M.
What initially was one of my most awkward encounters in a long time melted into a really fun get together. And no one asked me why I dumped my beer on Cam’s head. There seemed to be some sort of silent agreement that no one needed to ask questions or pry.
I lifted my hand to knock, but it flew open. Cam stood there, his gaze meeting mine.
“Hi.” I’d been thinking about him all day. All fucking day.
It was annoying. Logically, I knew that it was ridiculous to think about him like I was, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I hadn’t called a truce last night, but…I was tempted to.
I was starting to realize that maybe he’d changed. That maybe… he wasn’t so bad. Even if I wanted him to be.
“Hi,” Cam breathed out. We both stood there until he cleared his throat. “Allergies are getting to me or something. Come on in.”
It was a lame but cute excuse. I slid past him, stepping inside.
Whoever decorated this place really had done a good job. The last two times I’d been here, I’d been pissed about something, so I hadn’t taken the time to look again. It was nice and cozy, sleek where it needed to be and folksy where it could. There were pictures on the walls of the history of the vineyard, showing how the farm had grown over the years. I spotted a picture of the famous Harlow oak tree too. I admired the exposed beams that were clearly the frame of his family’s old barn.
What was it like to have a history like that? To have people that worked to build a future for their kids? I’d always been a little jealous of that, even if I’d never wanted to admit it.
“I know you said you’ve bartended before,” Cam said, following me to the bar itself. “How long ago was that?”
“It’s been at least seven years,” I said, setting my bag on the counter. The last time I worked at a bar, I was making my way through college, surviving on ramen and beer. “But I’m a smart girl. It’s like riding a bike.”
“I’m not worried, but I’ll show you the ropes. We’ll work together tonight, and it should be slower than the rest of the week. We’ll have our regulars. Fridays are when it gets super busy, Saturdays and Sundays too. Wednesday and Thursday are the sweet shifts. Mondays and Tuesdays, I keep it closed because it’s just been family working. Well, family and Colt, but Colt is family. Might as well be a brother.”
His rambling was cute. I listened to him as he continued, watching as he raked fingers through his dark hair.
“Hunter will be home soon, and so will my parents, which will take a load off. I’ve been working between the farm and here, and it’s too much.” He rubbed his tired eyes and sighed; his shoulders slumped. He looked exhausted.
“Hey,” I said, frowning. I couldn’t help myself. I stepped closer to him, touching his arm. It took every ounce of control not to squeeze the firm bicep there. Are you nuts? “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, but his tone was unconvincing. He swallowed hard, his eyes falling on my lips and then rising back to my gaze.
And there was that burst of tension again. The kind that made me want to lean forward and kiss him.
“I just didn’t expect you to wear one of the dresses. It looks really good on you.”
I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Because yes. I had worn one of the dresses—the blue one in particular because god damn it, it was perfect. And it had been a power move on my part to wear it, although maybe that was what he’d secretly hoped for.
I searched his gaze and realized that he meant what he said. Heat bloomed in my cheeks. I crossed my arms, studying him closely.
“I never thought I’d hear a compliment from you,” I said.
His gaze flickered. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I keep thinking of all the ways I can make it up to you. I want to know you. And I want to prove to you that I’m not—”
“If you want to be absolved of the guilt from so long ago, then so be it. Just let it go,” I said, frowning. “Dumping beer on you last night might have helped…”
He smiled, but I could still tell he was bothered. I pressed my lips together, considering everything.
Was I going to forgive him?
Really forgive him?
“It’s been twelve years. And no, I didn’t want to see you when I came here. I’m dealing with a lot right now, and meeting the man that made my life hell for so long isn’t exactly a cherry on top.”
“It doesn’t matter that it’s been that long. I still think about it. I still think about you.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“I hurt you. I hurt your feelings. I know you hate me,” he continued, his eyes darkening. I frowned, not liking the storm I saw there with those words. “You have every right to. But—”
“I don’t hate you, Cam. Well, I did hate you for a long time. A really, really long time. But I’m giving you a chance. Else I wouldn’t be standing here, would I?”
It was true. I was giving him a second chance. There were way more pressing issues to think about than holding a grudge against him, and…
Maybe I wanted to know this Cam. The one that made my life hell sucked, but this guy in front of me? If he was really how he seemed, then I could forgive him.
Maybe.
“I can let it go if you can,” I said.
He pressed his lips together. “What else can I do?”
“Well, you can work with me tonight.” I gave him a small smile. “And maybe we can just start over. A new beginning. You did buy me a couple of nice dresses. And let me dump beer on your head. And working here will keep me from going stir-crazy.” And will keep my thoughts from the murder.
I held out my hand, and he stared at it for a moment before lifting his. His palm was rough against mine. A shiver went through me. We shook hands, standing there like idiots until finally, I pulled free.
“You’re full of surprises,” he murmured. “I’m still going to work on making it up to you. But thank you for giving me the chance.”
I nodded, turning before he could see the blush creeping into my cheeks. “Right,” I said, moving toward the bar. “Show me the ropes, cowboy.”
“As you wish, sunshine.”
* * *
Cameron was right about it being an easy night, which I couldn’t complain about. A few hours into my shift, and I’d finally memorized most of the taps. I’d made small talk with those that came in, recognizing some faces and giving them the general update on my life—always leaving out the murder— before sending them off with an ice-cold cider or glass of wine.
“Only got about thirty minutes left until we close. The shift went by quick with you around. I didn’t think about this, but when we have a day off, we should do a tasting,” Cam said as he bumped his hip into mine playfully. He had his sleeve rolled up, and I raised a brow as I caught sight of a tattoo on the inside of one of them.
I reached for him without thinking, grabbing his forearm and turning it. “Oak tree?”
“Yes,” he chuckled. “The Harlow family oak tree, to be exact.”
“The legend.” I gave him a teasing grin.
“It’s not a legend,” he quipped. “I’ll take you there sometime if you want.”
“Isn’t that just supposed to be whatever girl you marry?” I asked, bumping him with my shoulder.
“Yep.” My stomach fluttered. His answer surprised me, and he was gone before I could get anything else out of him, moving down the bar to greet someone as they walked up.
“Hey, miss, could I get another cider?”
I turned, offering the man on the other side of the bar a smile. He was the only one on this side and was sitting alone.
“Sure,” I said.
“Thanks. Long night?”
“Not too bad.” I reached for his empty glass. “What cider did you want, sir?”
“Oh, no need to call me that,” he said, smirking. I held his gaze and felt a chill crawl up my spine. He had short sandy-blond hair and icy-blue eyes, but there was something about him that set those alarm bells ringing. “What’s your favorite one? I’d love to try whatever you enjoy.”
I glanced down, looking at the different taps. “I’ll pick one for you, then.” I had no fucking clue, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
“Thanks. What’s your name…?”
“Haley,” I answered as I filled his glass. I set it on the countertop and slid it toward him. As I started to pull back, his fingers laced around my wrist, giving me a tug that had me losing my balance. “Hey,” I growled.
He let go quickly, letting out a chuckle. “Sorry. You just have small wrists.”
I swallowed hard, putting on my best poker face. “What’s your name?” I could feel a storm cloud brewing to my right and refused to look down the bar at Cam, even as I felt him closing in.
“Andy,” he said, taking a sip of his cider. He slid off the bar and slid cash over, giving me a wave. “Sorry if I frightened you. I work in the jewelry industry—force of habit.”
He left right as Cam stopped at my side. “What the fuck was that?”
I turned, keeping my voice low. “It’s fine. He was just a little weird.”
“He touched you,” Cam snarled. “I’m going to beat the—”
“Hold your horses, cowboy,” I said, placing my hand on his chest. “There’s no need to beat him up. He was just weird, and I handled it.”
Cam narrowed his eyes. “If he bothers you again, you’ll let me know.”
“Is that a question or—”
“It’s a demand. If he bothers you again, you’ll let me know.”
I glared at him. “You can’t manhandle everyone.”
He set his jaw and was about to argue, but my phone began to buzz in my pocket, drawing my attention. I pulled it out and saw Emma’s name.
“Can I take this?” I asked. “It’ll be quick.”
“Sure,” he said, blowing out a sigh. “Of course. I don’t even think you’ve taken a break tonight.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping by him.
I went through a doorway and down the same hall I’d been carted through Friday night by Cam. I snorted as I thought about last Friday. I’d given in so quickly to being friendly with him, but it was hard not to. He really wasn’t as bad as I thought he was…
I picked up the call. “Hey, Emma—”
“Where are you right now?” Her voice was panicked, the tone setting my back straight.
“I’m at a winery—a place outside of town—”
“Does anyone know you’re there? Are you alone?”
“People know I’m here. Emma, what’s going on?”
She let out a soft cry, her voice breaking. “Oh god, Hal. I’m so sorry. It’s so bad. The police are on the way, but I finally went by your apartment. Everything is wrecked, and there was writing on the wall and-and—fuck. I’m so sorry.” She was sobbing.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Emma, are you hurt? Are you okay?”
My phone buzzed in my hand as I asked her. “I just sent pictures,” she choked out. “Everything is destroyed, babe. And I don’t know—someone is after you. Someone is after you, Haley.”
Someone is after you.
My hands began to tremble as I pulled the phone back, my ears ringing as I looked at her text messages. Pictures poured in of my apartment, and she was right. Everything was ruined. The couch was gutted and slashed, the coffee table smashed, clothing strewn everywhere and torn. Tears filled my eyes as another picture came in. They’d painted on the walls.
Whore. Slut. I’m coming for you. Bitch.
It should have been you.
You’re next.
I heard my name being called repeatedly, but it sounded so far away. I pressed my back against the wall, feeling like the whole world was caving in. Everything was falling apart.
My worst fear had come true.
The killer wanted me dead.
I should have known. I had known. The way he’d looked at me, the hatred. The burning rage.
And the words he’d told me. The same ones he’d painted on the wall.
You’re next.
