Chapter 3 – You Don’t Look Like an Addy

 

Crew –

“I don’t like him,” Asa declares.

“What the hell’s wrong with this one?” Grady complains.

“You’re shitting me, right? Did you read his background? What he’s been through, what he lost? We don’t need anyone with a vendetta. It creates emotion and emotion’s your enemy. Did I teach you nothing?”

“That was a long time ago. Everything else checks out, Asa. He’s solid, dedicated, and a loner, which is even better. He won’t have to adjust.”

“You’d know about that,” Asa mutters to Grady. “Some days I still can’t believe you made it through training. You were too fucking anxious for this job—I had you pegged as not surviving the second day of training. How you made it all these years, I have no idea.”

I watch Grady shake his head at Asa before looking out the window of the downstairs bedroom I turned into a makeshift office. I dread it, but it looks like I need to go shopping for furniture. Leaning back in my folding chair, I study the last background Asa and Grady are arguing over. I’m used to them bickering, but today they’ve both made valid points. As valid as their opinions are, I’m sick of listening to them.

“This guy’s outperformed top SEALs. The timing is right on both ends. We miss this window—we’ll never get another shot at him. Not everyone’s carrying around a fury of retribution, Asa,” Grady chides. “Look at Crew. He could’ve and didn’t.”

“Enough.” I toss the papers on the rickety card table I found in the basement with a bunch of other shit the previous owner left behind. I’m done. I don’t need this conversation directed back at a younger me. “He’s in. We’ll see if his intensity works. If we think it’ll get him killed, we’ll cut him loose. That’s ten, they won’t all accept, maybe we’ll get five. If two make it through to the end, we’ll have a fucking tea party to celebrate. Get the communications started. If it’s all a go, we’ll start within two weeks.”

Asa grumbles and stalks out, but Grady stays. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking back out the window saying nothing. I stack all the recruit profiles together and when I move to stuff them in a file folder, I hear him mumble, “Sorry about that.”

“About what?” I ask even though I know.

“Shouldn’t have compared him to you,” he sighs, not looking away from the window.

“Not a big deal. We’ll see if this kid works out. He’s too qualified to overlook him.” I toss the file on the ever growing pile of papers and decide to order furniture today. There’s no time to go shopping and I need something with a drawer, not to mention a real chair. “You good out there? The air working okay?”

“Yeah, I guess I need some furniture,” he huffs my thoughts. Finally looking away from the window, he looks irritated. “I sleep on the bed, eat on the bed and work on the bed. I should get a chair. Maybe I’ll go big and get a sofa.”

I agree. “It sucks going from needing nothing for ten years to needing everything. I need a desk. I’m gonna take care of that today. Get some shit done before they get here.”

“Well, Mr. Homemaker, if you start decorating do me a favor and rip this shit off the walls. These flowers are gonna make you grow a vagina. If you show up with a desk organizer with highlighters and shit, I’ll know you’ve turned into a woman.”

I barely look up to respond. “I’ll paint the walls black if that’ll make you sleep better.”

“Black is good.” He finally moves to leave. “I’ve got recruits to approach and a sofa to buy. Can I bring you anything besides black paint?”

“I’m good,” I call and look up to the walls around me. He’s right. I’m not sure how much longer I can look at this wallpaper. Maybe ripping it down will be punishment for the last man in.

Just as I’m wondering how creative I can get with the recruits, I hear Grady yelling through the house, “Crew, get out here!”

I make my way through the back hall and living room to the wide entryway. My front door is open and Grady is standing on my porch with his arms crossed, his back to me and facing outside. Before I have a chance to ask him what he’s yelling about, I hear a low, “Moo.”

When I walk out the door to stand next to Grady, he looks over at me and states, “It’s a cow.”

I narrow my eyes mumbling, “No shit.”

Looking back at my neighbor’s pet, I cross my own arms wondering how I’m going to get her home.

“You didn’t tell me there’d be a cow,” he accuses, irritated.

“Kiss my ass, man. It’s not my cow.”

“You know,” Grady starts and his voice goes conversational as we both look at our visitor. “When you talked me into retiring with you, taking on this shit and moving to Virginia, you knew there was no way I’d turn you down. Working together all those years, you knew I couldn’t say no, even if I wasn’t ready to quit. But fuck, you sure didn’t tell me we’d be livin’ in the sticks where I couldn’t get myself a furnished place to live. Now I’m on my way to buy furniture—and I don’t even know where to go lookin’ for furniture—for the glorified barn you’ve put me in. Don’t get me started about having to drive a fucking age to find a restaurant. I’ve been eating cereal and microwave dinners for weeks—I’m fucking hungry. I’m dealing with Asa on a daily basis, face-to-face, not from halfway around the world which was bad enough.” He pauses and I hear him move so I look over. He’s frowning with one arm extended, pointing to the cow when he finishes, “Now we’ve got a bovine caller on your doorstep. I think I told you once I’d walk through the depths of hell for you, Crew, but I didn’t mean it literally.”

“Where’d you think this was gonna happen, in Arlington right next door to the bars and restaurants?” I frown.

He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t know there’d be cows.”

As if she’s being insulted, her tone turns sharper. “Moooo.”

“Holy shit,” he mutters.

“She belongs to my neighbor,” I explain. “A section of fence is down. I talked to her about it—it should be fixed in a day or two.”

“The Audi has a cow?” He’s surprised since I know he saw her on the cameras.

“I think she’s got a small herd,” I mutter as I move down the steps. “Come on, help me get her up in the truck and I’ll take her home.”

“Now I’m a fucking farmer. What in the hell have I gotten myself into?” He continues talking to himself as I head to my old Ford, hoping she’ll cooperate and walk up some boards. I don’t have time to walk her back. Before I have a chance to move far, he keeps on, but with a warning. “You don’t have time to be fucking around with the beauty queen neighbor. We’ve got shit to get done and not a lot of time to do it. Your focus needs to be here, Crew. Not in a pair of panties next door.”

I stop abruptly, turning on my boot to find him right on my heels. This is good, because he’s close when I get in his face. “You don’t think I know the importance of the promises I made? The promises I’ve tied us all to when I made this happen? You think that after ten years I haven’t learned that the people I made promises to don’t fuck around? If you think I’d drag you and Asa along for the fuckin’ fun of it without taking that seriously, then you don’t know me. They don’t give a shit about you, but I do and it was time. You were on the edge, Grady. I saw it and Asa saw it.”

He narrows his eyes at me when he growls, “I was not on the edge.”

“You fuckin’ were. You can thank me someday when you finally open your eyes and see it for yourself. Until then, I know you’d walk through the depths of hell for me. What you don’t know, is I’d do the same for you. Me moving you to the sticks of Virginia means having to deal with your ass until you figure it out.” I exhale in a rush and take a step back, watching the anger set in his features and wait. Wait for him to argue, lash out or who knows, maybe open his damn eyes.

He works his jaw but says nothing. Finally, he shakes his head and looks to the side.

I guess today’s not that day, so I bite out, “Are you gonna help me with the cow or not?”

His eyes shoot back and he’s frustrated. He tips his head angrily as he swings his arm out, telling me to lead the way.

I turn away from him and call for her so we can get this done. “Come on, Harry.”

Well, fuck me—Addison’s cow is trained because she starts to follow.

That’s when I hear Grady’s irate scoff, “I don’t know what surprises me more—that the cow has a name or you know it. Who in the hell are you and what have you done with Crew Vega?”

*****

 

As I approach the entrance to Addison Wentworth’s property, I see a simple black sign with stark white brush strokes, vaguely outlining a deer. It’s modern art at its best. If It didn’t say “Whitetail” underneath, I’d never know what it was.

“Moo,” Addison’s cow drawls in my ear since she’s somehow managed to stick her head inside the sliding rear window of my truck.

I turn onto her property between the low-stacked stone border that looks as if it’s been around longer than my house. I lean into my door as I creep up the drive looking like a freak show with a cow in the bed of my truck with her head tucked into the cab next to me like a dog. When I finally come up over the last hill, a large building comes into view with acres of vines in the distance. It must be the business since there’s a parking lot that’s mostly full. This is surprising since it’s barely noon on a Saturday.

Beyond the business, there’s a big-ass farmhouse. It’s three stories and painted white with a one story red brick extension. Her property is all vines and wooded pasture. Farther out into the field is a barn with a silo, but the silo isn’t one anymore since it has a tree growing out the top. From the top of the property, the view goes forever.

I don’t bother parking and pull up to the front door. There’s an older woman watering plants and lots of customers sitting at tables with wine and food. By the looks and stares I’m getting, it’s confirmed that Addison’s cow and I are the freak show I thought we were.

The older woman turns to me, but her eyes go to the back of my truck and she smiles big. Then I hear her start to cackle before I even open my door. When I get out, she looks me up and down, and for some reason starts to laugh even harder and louder.

I decide to wait for her to settle, watching the tall, graying woman hug her middle. Finally, she sets her watering can on the ground while wiping her eyes. Putting her hands on her hips, her breath is ragged from hysteria as she strangely says, “You’re in trouble.”

I cross my arms and frown. “Pardon?”

“I’m talking about Addy’s Harry. You give her a lick of attention—she’ll love you forever.” She smiles.

Not finding anything funny, I try to move this on. “Is Addison here? Her cow was at my door step. I need to get back to work.”

“Addison?” She seems surprised.

“Yes,” I keep on. “Addison Wentworth? I believe she owns this place?”

She instantly sobers. “Wait, you’re the new neighbor?”

“Yeah. Now about Addison—”

She smiles again. “You should stay for a glass.”

“Thanks, but no. I’m busy. If she’s not here, is there someone else who can take the cow?”

She ignores everything I’ve said. “I’m Beverly Shaw. You can call me Bev, everyone does. My husband, Morris, is the caretaker.”

“Bev, good to meet you. Now,” I sigh and try one more time. “What should I do with the cow?”

“You sure you don’t want a glass? It’s free for all the neighbors, and it wasn’t always free for the neighbors—that’s just been since Addy bought the place. Smart move, it’s all word of mouth. That’s how she sells the barrels and all that goes with it. I’m pretty sure it started with the neighbors playing ‘keep up with the Joneses’ with all their friends. Whatever it takes to keep me in wine, right?” She tips her head, finally stopping to take a much needed breath. She was rambling so much I was beginning to worry she’d pass out over the flowers.

“I guess.” I bite my tongue and ignore her verbal barrage as I move to the back of the truck. If I have to leave the cow on the front door of her winery, I will. Pulling the tailgate, I grab the wide boards I had to bring to get her in the truck and slide them to the edge, making a ramp.

“Moooo.” She stares me down, making it clear who’s boss.

Shit. There’s no other option, I’m gonna have to talk to her again. I cannot believe I’m talking to a cow.

“Come on,” I call for her.

She doesn’t budge.

“Harry,” I call her by name.

This time, she steps back.

“It’s scarier going down than up,” Bev points out and when I look to her, she’s still smiling.

I call to the cow three more times, and as cooperative as she was at my house, she’s downright obstinate now.

“Maybe I should get Addy,” Bev suggests, as if it were her idea.

I look to her and deadpan, “I’d appreciate it.”

She disappears inside the building. Meanwhile, as I have a standoff with a cow, I realize everyone drinking wine is watching the show. I cross my arms and drop my head, looking at my boots. While I do this, I contemplate me driving a cow around in the back of my truck for a woman I’ve barely exchanged words with.

Grady is right. Who in the hell am I?

*****

 

Addy –

“Addy?”

“Hmm?” I hum without looking up from my screen.

I’ve got a huge meeting tomorrow. Massive. It could put my little Virginia winery on the big stage and I need to be prepared.

“Sweetie, our handsome new neighbor is here. He had to bring back poor Harry, she wandered. I think she likes him.” I look up to see Bev peeking her head inside my office. “He’s having a bit of trouble getting her out of his truck. I invited him to stay for a glass, but he said he had to work, which I don’t understand. It’s Saturday.”

Pushing my chair back, I get up quickly. “She’s in his truck?”

“Yes.” She smiles as I move by her and rush through the back hall and toward the tasting room. “She’s skittish and making quite a scene. I do find the whole thing funny.”

She would find it funny.

When I push my way out the big heavy front door, I stop immediately. Pulled up right to the steps of the deep porch, where many guests are enjoying the late morning before the heat sets in, is a truck with my cow standing in the bed. The truck is old, like rusted, paint chipped, and missing some trim, old. My guess, it’s been around for well over thirty years because the white is worn and there’s a faded turquoise blue stripe running down the side. I’m sure this particular shade of turquoise hasn’t been put on a vehicle for decades, and for good reason.

Harry greets me. “Moo.”

I ignore her, allowing my eyes to wander, and there he is—my neighbor, leaning against the fender over the rear tire. His arms and legs are crossed. His arms, thick and powerful, are straining against his old white t-shirt. And he’s in a pair of jeans that look as old as the truck my cow is standing in, fitting him perfectly, bunched at the bottom over a pair of work boots.

“You know,” I hear, pulling me out of my stupor. When I glance up, I notice his hair is clean today but he still hasn’t shaved. This is the third day in a row I’ve seen him—his beard is thicker, but I’d still categorize it as scruff. He’s wearing a pair of aviators in the morning sun, so I can’t see his dark eyes. From the tone of his voice and facial expression, I imagine those shades hide the sharpness he’s proven to exhibit, inconsistent with his relaxed stance. Without moving a muscle, he goes on, “Never thought I’d find myself with a cow in my truck. Tried to make sure that didn’t happen by helping to pay for the fence.”

I bite my lip and raise my brows apologetically. “It, um, should be fixed tomorrow.”

As if I didn’t say anything, he adds, “You threw that in my face.”

“It was too much.” I frown.

This time his brows rise. “I don’t like owing people.”

“I’m sorry,” I say in a way he can clearly tell I’m not. “I don’t enjoy being indebted, either, and I would’ve been had I accepted your excessive gesture.”

“My excessive gesture,” he repeats.

“Yes, Crew. It was outrageous.”

“Outrageous,” he echoes.

I tip my head the other way. “Why do you keep repeating me?”

“Because,” he pauses, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. “This is outrageous.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. He’s right. It is embarrassing he had to bring Harry home.

“Molasses,” I hear and turn to see Bev smiling. “She’ll come down for molasses.”

“Of course, why didn’t I think of that?” I look back to Crew. “Do you mind driving her down to the barn? I’m sure she’ll come down for a treat.”

“Why wouldn’t she come for a treat, don’t all pets?” he drawls and pushes off the truck. When he does, he extends his arm for me and keeps on sarcastically. “By all means, let’s go get her a treat.”

“Come back for a glass,” Bev calls and when I look over, she’s as happy as ever, waving at Crew. He simply shakes his head.

I hesitantly move off the porch and down the steps as he bends to pick up a board, sliding it into the bed of the truck. Slamming the tailgate, he follows me to the passenger side and when I push the ancient button on the handle to open the door, he moves in behind me to open it. I climb in to sit on the long, vinyl bench seat. My body jerks as he slams my rickety door closed, with what seems like all his might.

When he climbs in the driver’s seat next to me, he’s controlled, yet appears calmly put-out by the entire ordeal and I realize I feel smaller in his presence. The past two days when I’ve seen him, we’ve been outside in the wide open yonder. But here, in his rattley old truck, he seems larger and there’s something about him that makes my stomach do a flip-flop, and not in a bad way, even with his underlying frustration over Harry.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all this,” I offer, looking out the windshield as we bounce along the gravel drive to my barn.

I hear him breathe in deep before responding on an exhale. “Don’t worry about it.”

“And I’m sorry about the check—even though it was exorbitant and I’d never accept it. I was in the middle of an exasperating moment when it was delivered. I could have declined more graciously.”

We arrive, the trip to the barn being a short drive down the valley, and he puts the truck in park. Instead of getting out, he turns in his seat toward me. “Like I said, it’s okay.”

I finally relax and give in to a genuine smile before moving to open my door.

“Addison,” he calls. When I turn back to look at him, he pulls off his aviators, his deep dark eyes are serious. “Just so you know—I’ll find a way to pay you back for the fence. When I do, you won’t rip it up and throw it in my face.”

I scowl, ignoring his determination to pay me back. “Why do you insist on calling me Addison? No one has ever called me Addison. Ever. It’s Addy.”

He frowns in contemplation, his eyes moving over me but not as though he’s checking me out, making me feel uncomfortable. Rather, he’s thinking. Finally, tipping his head the other way, he says in a low voice as though he’s talking to himself, “I don’t know. For some reason you don’t look like an ‘Addy,’ and I like the way ‘Addison’ sounds when I say it.”

My body stills as I stare back at him.

I don’t look like an Addy?

Not having the same paralysis issue, he moves from his truck, slamming the door. I stay where I am listening to him bang around in the back to deal with Harry.

Then, I realize I like the way it sounds when he calls me Addison. I like how his full lips move when his deep voice rumbles my name more than I should. So much so, I think maybe I need to stay far away from my new neighbor. Because me not looking like an Addy? That’s too much. I don’t know what to do with that.

Feeling my stomach flip in a whole different way, I take a deep breath and try to focus on what to do next.

I need molasses. I need to get Harry out of Crew’s truck. Then I need to get back to work and get ready for tomorrow. And now more than ever, I need to get away from Crew. I slowly move to open my door, trying to focus on anything besides the fact he doesn’t think I look like an Addy.

I head straight to the barn for molasses and decide my next task is to make sure the fence is fixed today. No way is Harry wandering onto Crew Vega’s property again. Since he doesn’t like wine, there’s no reason for me to see him, let alone call me Addison.