Cowboy Brave by Carolyn Brown (29)

Mowing the lawn hadn’t taken enough time. Ava was back inside now, not daring to enter the painting room again, and she just couldn’t take it. Even when she wasn’t torturing herself trying to re-create that stupid tree, the house was too quiet, and damn it, she was used to noise. She should have at least kept the dog home instead of sending him along for the sleepover at her parents’ house. That would have been a decent distraction. But she’d thought complete and utter solitude would somehow spark her long-dormant creative juices.

She’d thought wrong.

So it was settled. She wouldn’t wait for the noise to come to her. She would head to it.

She pulled out her phone and rattled off a text to her parents.

It was Sunday, and her parents had one of their weekend employees working the tasting room. She could stop by, check on the gift shop, busy herself with something other than her empty, quiet home.

She hopped into her cherry red Jeep Renegade and practically peeled out of the driveway—a woman on a mission. It was only a thirty-minute ride to the Ellis Vineyard and she’d made it there in twenty-seven, only to swerve off the narrow road as she approached the entrance. A white pickup truck idled on the wrong side of the road, blocking her turn.

“Shit!” she yelled, throwing the car into park once she came to a stop in the grass. She was grateful she was in the car alone, knowing she’d never hear the end of letting profanity slip in certain company—again.

She hopped out of the car and stalked toward the driver’s side of the truck, ready to give whoever was in there a piece of her mind. But he was out and heading toward her before she had time to think of what to say. And then she lost her words altogether as the dust cleared and she saw Jack Everett striding in her direction.

Her stomach dropped, and she wondered if she was falling. She stumbled back a couple of steps until she was able to brace herself against the hood of the Jeep, but she was still standing.

“Ava?” he said, taking a step forward, those stormy blue eyes laced with concern. “Shit. Are you okay? I didn’t think—”

She held up a hand, halting him from moving any closer.

“I’m fine,” she said, though she was anything but. Physically speaking, she didn’t have a scratch. But her heart—she thought she could actually hear it beating, it was thundering so loud. “I just need a minute,” she added. But for what? There was no way one minute was sufficient to accomplish anything, let alone ten years of everything flooding back at once.

Her chest ached being this close. She remembered walking him to class on his first day at Los Olivos High, how he was so broody and intent on keeping his distance—how gorgeous he was anyway and that she’d wanted to do anything to make him smile. Once he had, she was a goner.

Now he stood there in that untucked flannel shirt and faded jeans with his arms crossed, silent and stoic and as devastatingly gorgeous as she remembered. His blond hair was just enough on the long side that he was probably due for a trim, but God it looked good on him, especially with that golden scruff along his jaw. He wore the past decade well, and she’d missed all of it.

“Ava,” he said again, and this time he closed the distance between them, stopping when his boot came toe to toe with her sandal. “Are you okay?”

Okay? How was there anything okay about seeing Jack again after the way things had ended? He’d left thinking she was afraid of him—and she’d let him—when nothing could have been further from the truth. But the alternative would have been forcing him to stay in a place that was poison to him.

The tenderness in his words tore at her, but that voice belonged to a man now. A man she didn’t know. Gone was the boy who’d stolen her heart—and broke it twice without ever knowing. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her, if she stirred as much in him after all these years as he did in her.

Time was supposed to heal. Wasn’t it? Make the past easier to bear. But when she looked at Jack, all she could think was how much she’d give to turn back the clock and try things differently. Then, maybe, she’d deserve the warmth she heard in that voice—the hint of affection.

She cleared her throat and stood straight. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Did you just get back from England or something?”

His brows pulled together.

“Driving on the other side of the road?” she added, the dizzying effect he had on her diminishing as she turned her thoughts to the here and now.

The corner of his mouth teased at a grin, and with that gesture the dizziness returned. But she could not, would not, fall under his spell. Too much had happened since they’d last seen each other to let herself get carried away by feelings she’d long since buried. Besides, she’d already put her foot down. This was the year she got her life back on track—the year she finally let herself pursue the dreams she’d put aside for a decade. A chance encounter with Jack Everett—who hadn’t as much as sent her an email in all that time—wasn’t going to change things.

Okay, it might change one thing. The truth always did that.

“No,” he said, drawing out the word. “I was driving Jenna home, and she said you’d moved away.” He shook his head. “I don’t even remember deciding to drive by.” He ran a hand through that overgrown hair and squinted toward the sun. She watched as fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, lines that hadn’t been there the last time she saw him. “I just got back in town,” he said. “My father died.”

He said it so matter-of-factly it took a few seconds to register, and when it did, instinct took over, and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him.

“Oh, Jack. I’m—I’m sorry.”

She didn’t know if those were the right words or if hugging him was anywhere near appropriate, but that’s what you said and did when someone died. And this was Jack Everett. Jack Everett. In her arms. As the warmth of his skin seeped into hers, a part of her she’d tucked away for ten long years began rising to the surface.

He said nothing at first, simply stood there as she hugged him, breathing in the scent of fresh soap, the outdoors, and something so inherently Jack she swore she’d know it was him with her eyes closed.

Then his arms enveloped her. She could feel his hesitation, though, the way he didn’t squeeze too tight, didn’t breathe too deep.

“I was just going to check up on some things in the tasting room,” she said, reluctantly pulling away.

She still had a few hours before everyone returned. It would be time enough to ease into this reunion—to tell him what she’d planned on telling him when he came home after finishing his degree. Except as far as she knew, he never did return. At least, he’d never contacted her if he had. Not that she blamed him.

“Come inside for a drink?” She laughed nervously. “If wine isn’t your thing, we have a fridge in the office. I’m sure there’s soda or bottled water. Or something.”

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever expected to see Jack Everett again, not after he hadn’t come home—and she’d sought him out in Los Angeles only to find that he’d definitively moved on before she’d ever had a chance to see him. But now that he was here, nearly forcing her off the road, she felt the desperate need to get him to stay. Maybe his father’s death wasn’t the right time to shake up his world even more, but she’d always promised herself that if he came back—if he chose for their paths to cross again—she’d tell him all the things she couldn’t say when they were teens and she knew that no matter how he felt about her, he’d needed to get as far away from here as he could.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll follow you in” was all he said before heading back to his truck.

Had there been a ring on his left hand? She hadn’t thought to look until it was too late. Or was she avoiding what she didn’t want to confirm? She guessed they’d get to that soon.

Oh God. Jack Everett was really here, and he hadn’t bolted at the first sight of her.

She rounded the bumper until she was at the driver’s side again, and then somehow she made it back behind the wheel, navigating through the property and to the winery while she tried to process how the hell to tell him—everything.

The drive down the winding path behind Ava’s Jeep was hardly enough for Jack to get his shit together. She wasn’t supposed to be here, and he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to force her off the road.

She wrecked me.

It had been minutes since he’d uttered the phrase to Jenna, and now here he was going to have a drink with Ava Ellis. He was out of his mind. But then again, the him she’d destroyed had been an eighteen-year-old mess who had one foot out the door the whole time they were together. Except he’d always planned on coming back after college…for her.

This was only a fling.

It was always going to end.

All it had taken was a few words for his plans to change.

He heard the door of her Jeep slam and realized he was still sitting in his truck despite the fact he’d already parked. He pulled the key from the ignition and stepped out of the vehicle to see her leaning against her bumper, arms crossed as she watched him exit. She offered him a nervous smile but before he could consider reciprocating, they were interrupted.

Tires crackled over gravel, and both their gazes shifted to a sedan rolling toward them.

“Looks like you got new customers,” he said.

Her eyes flashed toward his, and despite the sun’s glare, he could see a desperation he hadn’t been expecting—not that anything about this meeting had been expected. But just as quickly, she schooled her features and held out her arms as a young boy barreled out of the car and headed straight for her.

“Mom!”

The boy threw himself at her so quickly, clinging to her, that Jack didn’t even get a chance to see his face, just the auburn waves—exactly like his mother’s—where Ava now buried her face, peppering his head with soft kisses as she did.

“Mom?” he heard himself ask as something inside him clicked into place and then sank.

“Owen!” she cried, falling against the back of her car, unable to contain her laughter. “You’re getting too big for me to hold you like this,” she added as he slid down her torso so he was standing on his own two feet.

“Grandpa got your text, and he asked if I wanted to go to the park and practice pitching or if I wanted to surprise you instead.”

She ruffled his hair and as he took a step back, Jack could make out the color of the boy’s eyes. Not green like his mother’s, but blue.

A chocolate Lab bounded out of the car after the boy, stopping only to give him and Ava sloppy kisses as the two of them roared with laughter.

Not green like his mother’s.

Did he have his father’s eyes?

Owen.

“My mother’s maiden name was Owens,” he said, his voice sounding rough and far away.

She bit her lip. “I know.”

“Margaret, take Owen inside.”

An older man and woman approached, and Jack recognized Margaret and Bradford Ellis, Ava’s parents. Mr. Ellis narrowed his eyes at Jack.

“Come on, honey,” her mother said, motioning to Owen. “You and Scully come in with me while Grandpa talks to Mom for a second.”

The boy—Owen—backed up and glanced at Jack.

“Who are you?” he asked, with the unreserved curiosity only acceptable from a child.

Ava’s father patted his grandson on the shoulder. “No one, son. Follow your grandma. She’ll get you and Scully something to eat.”

“But I thought the rule was no dogs in the wine shop.”

Mr. Ellis let out an uneasy laugh. “We’re bending the rules, only for today.”

Owen pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Come on, boy!” He kissed Ava quick on the cheek and scampered off after his grandma, Labrador in tow. As soon as they were safe behind doors, Bradford Ellis dropped his painted-on grin and turned, teeth gritted, toward Jack.

“Dad, don’t—” Ava started, but Jack knew the look of a man with an agenda. Just like he’d done time and time again with his own father, he stood his ground and braced himself for whatever came next.

“I know who you are,” he said. Her father was a tall man, still well built, but Jack had at least an inch or two on him. “I knew it the second I saw that piece-of-shit truck.”

Jack’s jaw clenched as he thought about the accounts he’d set up in Luke and Walker’s names, about how much more this new position in New York would help get them back on their feet after Jack Senior mortgaged the property. Every goddamn cent he made—other than what he needed to live—was put away for his family. But he wasn’t going to dignify Bradford Ellis with an excuse for the vehicle he drove. Instead he stood there, impassive, as the man lit into him. As the unmistakable reality of who the boy was sank in, and as it registered that Ava’s father had called Jack no one.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Ellis,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.

“You put the Wilkes boy in the hospital,” the other man said in a low, warning tone.

“For assaulting your daughter,” Jack retaliated, though he knew it was a shit excuse. He’d pulled Derek off of Ava without issue. He could have left it at that. But when he saw those bruises…

“Ava didn’t press charges,” Mr. Ellis snapped.

“Dad!” Ava cried. A look passed between father and daughter that Jack didn’t understand. “Stop. Please.”

“Ava,” the older man said, addressing his daughter but still facing Jack. “You told us it wasn’t him. You said he wasn’t the father, and we took you at your word.”

“It’s complicated,” she said, her voice starting to shake. “I told you what you wanted to hear—what would make it easier for everyone.”

Jack couldn’t move. He was frozen where he stood. So he just listened to this warped version of his past play out.

“We raised that boy with you. We helped feed him and clothe him. You put off school and took a job at the vineyard, our family’s business, and have never wanted for anything. We’re Owen’s family, Ava. Not him. If he thinks he can show up after ten years—after what he did—and be a part of your life—a part of Owen’s life—without our say?”

“Dad, I said stop.” She cut him off.

Jack turned at the sound of Ava’s voice. Mr. Ellis did as well.

She faced Jack with pleading eyes. Jack glanced back toward the winery, to where his son had disappeared behind closed doors.

His son.

“Christ, Ava.”

She covered her mouth, and her green eyes glistened.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his own eyes. Then he stared at her for several long beats. He thought about the baseball scholarship he’d almost lost because of his broken leg senior year. Then, without warning, he thought of loss in a whole new way. But there wasn’t time to process.

“He plays ball,” he said. “He has my goddamn eyes, my mother’s goddamn name, and he plays ball?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she repeated, the tears pooling now.

He slammed his palm against the side of the truck bed, and Ava yelped.

“Hey!” her father yelled, taking a step toward Jack and then lowering his voice. “That’s my daughter. And my grandson in there,” he said, pointing toward the winery. “I will do anything I need to do to protect them, even if it means calling the cops on you right now. No one forgot what you did, Everett. Or who your daddy is. I don’t care what happened between you and my daughter in the past. Because there is no future for you here. You’re not good for either of them.”

Jack felt the sting in his palm and started backing toward the driver’s side of the truck.

“Was,” he said, and he watched the other man’s brows furrow. “You know who my daddy was,” he amended. “He died earlier this week.”

Ava let out a quiet sob that mingled with his name.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he said, his voice tight with strain, his hands balling into fists. He fought to maintain control, to keep from scaring her again. But his anger was justified. He knew that much.

He shook his head and spoke softly. “Hell, Ava.”

Bradford Ellis took another step in Jack’s direction as he pulled open his truck’s door.

“Please, Dad. Stop. Please.” Ava pressed her hands to her father’s chest and urged him back again. But he kept speaking over her shoulder.

“You’re trespassing, Everett. I suggest you head on out, now.”

Jack didn’t wait to see if she’d turn around again. He was in the truck, engine roaring to life, before he lost it completely.

He had a son.

In the span of ten years—and ten minutes—Ava Ellis had wrecked him not once, but twice.

And here he was, doing what he did best—leaving.