Autumn in the Vineyard (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) Read Online Free PDF Page B

pulling out his
S AUL ’ S C LUSTERFUCK L IST
and adding
T AKE S USAN J ANCE TO D INNER
in slot number seven.
    When life got crazy, Nate made lists. Had since his parents died. It was his way of finding logic in otherwise emotional situations. And right now, he was staring down a tornado of emotion.
    “How much is Saul asking for the other half?” Marc asked, after the waitress delivered a full pitcher and disappeared.
    “It’s already sold,” Nate admitted. How had this even happened?
    “Sold? To who?” Trey asked then started shaking his head. “No way. I thought the Baudouins were having money problems.”
    “Yeah, well Charles must have found the money somewhere,” Nate said, remembering how Frankie was all but preening this morning in her wet, translucent tank top. Okay, so thetop had been black, but it was still wet and if he stared hard enough, he could see her chilled nipples poking through the fabric.
    “Seven million?” Trey challenged, emptying the pitcher into his mug and signaling the waitress for a refill. “Where does a guy who was willing to screw over the entire town to save his winery suddenly find seven and a half million?”
    That was what Nate was trying to figure out. Just a few months ago, Charles had tried to ruin the Summer Wine Showdown in hopes of discrediting the DeLucas. Fortunately for Nate, the only name discredited had been Baudouin. Unfortunately for Charles, he’d lost several local accounts because of it.
    “Saul didn’t sell it and Charles doesn’t own it,” Gabe, head of the DeLuca family, said from behind.
    Nate turned around and saw his older brother, looking like the daddy he was now, dressed in jeans, a faded—and very wrinkled—college t-shirt, and stubble from three days ago. He dropped his body onto the seat next to Nate, picked up Trey’s new beer and downed it in one long swallow.
    “I thought you weren’t allowed to drink,” Trey said, reaching for the empty glass.
    “I
chose
not to drink and that was when Regan was pregnant. In case you haven’t noticed, she isn’t any more,” Gabe said, eying Marc’s mug.
    Regan was Gabe’s wife and not only was she no longer pregnant, but the dark circles and bloodshot eyes said Gabe still wasn’t sleeping. At all. Whereas Nate’s oldest niece Holly was a talker, his new little niece Sofia, adorable as she was, was a screamer. Baby Sofie had come home from the hospital three weeks ago and Gabe hadn’t slept a wink since.
    “How is Regan?” Marc asked.
    “Amazing.” Gabe smiled. And man his brother looked happy. That was all it took, just the mention of his sweet wife and he perked right up. Marc was the same way lately. Nate was happy for them, he genuinely was.
    In fact, he wouldn’t mind having a woman in his life. A sweet woman with a bright smile and a big heart. A picture of Frankie popped into his head and he flinched.
Sweet.
He wanted sweet. And a home, not a rundown alpaca farm.
    “How are you handling things?” Nate asked.
    “How the hell do you think?” Gabe said, his smile fading, but there was no anger in his voice. He was too tired for anger. “I haven’t slept in what feels like a year, my daughter cries every time I hold her, Holly is already asking for another sister—she wants to return her for one who doesn’t cry all the time—and Regan’s OBGYN told her that after the C-section she needs to take it easy for at least another few weeks. Somehow my wife took ‘bed rest’ to mean ‘I’m throwing Sofie a one-month birthday party. By the way, you’re all invited.’ ”
    Gabe pulled three pink envelopes out of his pocket and slid them across the table. Inside was an even pinker card, shaped like two baby booties. But what had Nate smiling was the frilly embossed cursive, which looked more wedding invitation than baby’s birthday and read: COME CELEBRATE ST. HELENA’S OFFICIAL HARVEST BABY’S FIRST MONTH-DAY.
    “Official harvest baby?” Nate laughed.
    “Wait, this is on