Page 41 of A Taste of Chardonnay

The wordlovehung in my head—an immovable thought that wouldn’t go away. I’d known Brady almost my whole life, but there was no way I was in love with him, even if I did have a crush on him when we were kids. We’d spent so much time hating each other, building walls so high it felt like we’d never break through them. Somehow, in these past few days, he’d torn the walls down brick by brick, leaving me vulnerable in a way I’d never been before.

The scariest part?

I didn’t hate it.

After reuniting with Jack, I cleared my driveway, then Jack and I left in my truck with the plow to help the neighbors dig out before going down to the distillery and clearing the parking lot. The plow had been the best investment I ever made. Before the distillery opened, I used to take paid jobs, and I could make a month's salary in a night. But with the distillery turning a profit, I preferred to volunteer my equipment and time.

Chardonnay’s scent lingered in my nose, the feel of her skin fresh in my mind. I thought maybe sleeping with her would get her out of my system, but all it did was make me want her even more.

I’d stop by the winery later, see if they needed any help clearing the snow. In the meantime, I took a turn down Gazzola Street and headed toward the one place I had no desire to go. The place that held nothing but memories I’d rather not remember. But Ron was losing his damn mind, and I doubted anyone had checked on him.

I’d stop by, clear the driveway if needed, then see if I’d bump into Chardonnay at the winery.

I pulled up to the house that I spent much of my twenties wishing would get hit by fucking lightning or spontaneously combust and noticed not even a single footprint in the snow. The driveway had at least a foot and a half, so I dropped the plow and cleared a path.

I should finish with the drive and get the fuck out of here, but what if he was dead inside? Or what if he fell and was hurt? With a sigh, I slammed the truck into park. “I’ll be right back,” I told Jack.

My feet sunk into the snowdrift that had pushed against the door. Even if Ron wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to get out. Returning to my truck, I grabbed a shovel from the bed and dug my way toward the door. Fifteen minutes later and still no sign of Ron, I worried he might actually be dead in there.

I pounded on the door. “Ron, you here?”

He answered the door, his hair sticking up, creases of a pillow on his face. He squinted against the bright sun reflecting off the white snow. “What are you doing here?”

The scent of sulfur hit me in the face. “What is tha—?” I pushed into the house and went right to the kitchen, where the scent punched me in the face. My eyes landed on the stove dial, turned up with no flame. I flipped it off and ran to the window, opening it as high as it went before moving to the next.

His cat pressed against my leg, and I bent down and grabbed the thing. “Let’s go.”

“What? No.” Ron shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

“You had the gas turned on. The house is filled with propane. You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself. Now grab your coat and shoes and let’s go.”

Once Ron and the damn cat were in my truck with Jack—who was not exactly thrilled about the cat—I slipped out my phone and called the fire station. Stef in dispatch answered.

“Stef, it’s Brady Noah. I’m at my old man’s house. He left the stove on with no flame. The house reeks of propane.”

“You turned the gas off?”

“From the stove, yes. I opened windows, and Ron is sitting in my truck.”

“It should be fine, but we’ll get someone there to check. They’re on a call right now. Accident on the highway, so sit tight. They’ll be there as soon as they can.”

It probably wasn’t necessary to wait, but he’d been home all day by himself. I had no idea how long that gas had been spilling into his house or how long he had been fucking sleeping.

“How long was Ron in the house?”

“I have no idea.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to bring him to the ER.”

“What are the signs of high exposure?”

“Confusion.”

Well, that didn’t help. The man was confused most days.

“Loss of coordination. Dizziness. Nausea. Headache. Again, better safe than sorry. Overexposure can cause cardiac arrest, oxygen deprivation to the brain.”

“You’re not making me feel good, Stef.”

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