Page 4 of Tributary

CHAPTER FOUR

Asa

DANIEL CRAWFORD’S KITCHEN reminds me of my Bubbie’s house, filled with delicious smells, laughter, and family. Rose fusses over Archer Crawford, scolding him about frostbite as if he weren’t a grown man. Daniel insists Diana taste his sauce the moment she makes her way inside the door. The whole scene is so familiar, and yet so foreign. It’s been years since I’ve been in this type of environment. Family dinner at the Wexler house is a stuffy affair with dry martinis and passive-aggressive commentary on my life choices.

The Crawfords barely seem to notice I’m an outsider, shoving homemade beer into my hands and gathering my wet snow things to put in the dryer. I sit at the counter watching Rose fuss around the laundry room while Daniel works the meat and rice into the cabbage leaves before plunking the delectable bundles into the sauce to cook through.

“Oh, Asa,” Rose says, tossing back a glass of white wine. “I’m ever so sorry you’re stuck here another night. I hope we’ve made things comfortable for you.” She pats my arm, hopefully.

“Oh, it’s been delightful,” I say. “Diana’s been giving me the royal treatment.” Archer snorts and Daniel sighs. So her behavior toward me isn’t out of the ordinary. I’m even more intrigued. “Seriously, it’s been a great afternoon,” I say, taking another sip of my drink. “What is this? This is amazing.”

Rose and Daniel beam and he nods his head toward Diana, who scowls. “Our girl has been perfecting her brewing techniques,” he says. “I think she’s really hit her stride.”

“You made this, Diana?”

“Are you shocked because I’m a woman or because I’m from this town,” she sneers, using air quotes to spit my words back at me. This woman has a chip on her shoulder the size of the Flat Iron Building, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want to be the one to scrape it off and see what’s under there.

“I’m surprised it’s homemade because it’s got such a refined flavor,” I tell her. “You could easily sell this to bars in Manhattan.”

“It’s not for sale,” she says, but I note the tone of her voice is a touch softer.

Rose asks after Abigail and seems pleased to hear she’s working on her novel this evening. I sit back and enjoy my beer and the ease of the Crawford family conversation. Eventually we all make our way to the dinner table, with all of them talking at once about their work, their interests, and jokingly wondering whether Hunter can see the blizzard from his perspective in the International Space Station.

Rose pats my hand at the mention of Hunter. “We’re all just so thrilled you decided to fund Hunter’s research,” she tells me.

I wave away her gesture. “That’s a no-brainer investment for me,” I say. “He’s going to make a splash with his findings from his research mission and we’re going to quadruple my investment when this data goes to clinical trials.” I notice that Diana seems less enthused than her family and it’s my turn to raise a brow at her. “You don’t think Hunter’s research will be successful?”

“I just don’t want him to lose credit for his life’s work,” she retorts. “We won’t be talking about the Crawford cure for cancer, will we? It’ll be Wexler Holdings getting all the recognition.”

Rose looks like she’s going to slice Diana in half with her eyes. She opens her mouth to intervene, but I turn in my chair to face Diana. “I believe Hunter’s lawyer is friends with you. Sara Garrett? Please believe me when I tell you the contract she drew up for Hunter had my own legal team drowning their sorrows. She’s formidable, and she took good care of your brother’s intellectual property.”

“Hmmph.” Diana stabs into her cabbage rolls and ignores me.

Archer clears his throat and says, “Hey, speaking of Sara, weren’t she and Indigo trying to have a baby? When’s that happening?”

The conversation turns to Sara and her wife and their family plans, and Diana’s outburst appears forgotten. I make another mental note to see if Sara is interested in joining the legal team at Wexler Holdings. I start wondering if a remote position could be possible, assuming she wants to stick around Oak Creek, but then I notice Diana’s face light up.

Her brother asked her something about growing hops, and Diana softens immediately. She tells her family about growing her beer plants indoors, how the sensitive hops are flourishing using some sort of artificial light. She’s vague about the particulars, but passionate about her process.

The spark in her eyes is irresistible when she talks botany. I actually get hard, thinking about her bent over her plants, her tight body digging around in the soil, pulling up fragrant herbs. She catches my eye and I know she feels the heat of my gaze. She blushes, and I vow that moment to figure out what it takes to get Diana Crawford to show me her secret plant lair.

Archer and Diana start clearing plates, and I surprise myself by rising to help them. I’m not sure, actually, if I’ve ever washed a dish, but I’m drawn to this woman. Rose, flustered, insists I’m a guest and should sit back down, but I don’t miss Daniel’s sly smile when he sees me step beside Diana to dry as she hands over washed plates without looking.

When she finally does glance up to see me beside her, rather than her brother, she flushes and frowns. “What’s the matter, Crawford,” I tease. “Would you feel more comfortable throwing the plate at my head instead?”

She smiles and nudges me with her elbow.

This is a very different pursuit for me. I’m used to being wanted—for my money, for my notoriety, for my looks. I’m used to being wanted by women looking for social standing and a 3-carat Harry Winston. I can close a deal with a ruthless business associate, and I can drop the panties of any princess on the Upper East Side. But suddenly, all I seem to want is Diana Crawford to yell at me until I fall naked at her feet.

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