Page 58 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“We have to get all the information together to make this process go smoothly. First, we need to know what kind of care Ron is going to need. Personal care like bathing, dressing, grooming… things like that.”

“As far as I know, he’s still capable of all that, but I don’t know for how much longer.”

“What about medical care, like administering medications, which I’m going to guess is a must?”

“Yes. He’s on a bunch.”

“Okay.” I jotted that down. “What about household assistance, like cooking, cleaning, running errands?”

“Technically, I could run errands. The cooking and cleaning, though, would be a big help. I don’t trust him with the stove. I took the knobs off it when I brought him home.”

I tapped the pen against my lip. “Smart.” I added those to the list. “What type of hours are you looking for? Specific days and time?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his face, defeat settling into his shoulders. “I don’t know if he can be by himself at all. Look at all his incidents. Going for a walk and forgetting how to get home. Causing a scene at Espresso Yourself because he thought the place was a restaurant from twenty years ago. Almost killing himself by filling his house with propane. I mean… most of the time he seems lucid, but then he just stares off into space like there’s nothing going on up there. Going into the house today, he literally froze on the steps, and it took him a good minute or so to snap out of it.”

“It sounds like he needs full-time care.”

I was no expert, but that’s what it sounded like to me. We would fill out all the necessary paperwork and go from there. At least I could help Brady with this. We spent the next hour going over the information, then he went to his truck and retrieved the paperwork, and we got to work.

Another hour later, and our I’s were dotted and our T’s were crossed. He might have to make a phone call, but the hard part was over.

I held my hand up, and he stared at me.

“High-five,” I said.

“I didn’t take you as a high-five kind of woman.” He high-fived me and linked his fingers through mine, pulling me to him. He nuzzled my neck and exhaled. “Thank you. I could never have done that without your help.”

“You could have, but it would have been much more stressful without my system.”

He laughed. “Take the compliment.”

“Okay.”

He kissed me then, and I immediately melted into him. I wanted to ask him about where we stood and if we were just sleeping together or if it was something more, but he had enough stress on his plate as it was. Speaking of plates, it was well past dinnertime, and neither of us had eaten.

“Let’s go get something to eat. My treat,” I said.

“How about takeout? We can bring it to my place.”

“Are you actually inviting me to your hideaway in the woods?”

He tilted my chin, his green eyes boring into mine. “I want you in my bed.”

My breath hitched, his words hanging heavy in the air between us, charged with a mix of heat and vulnerability that left me unable to speak. His home was his sanctuary—a place not many people were invited to. The fact that he wanted me not only in his home, but in his bed proved to me this wasn’t just sleeping together.

This was something more.

The insurance paperwork was submitted, and the woman I spoke with on the phone said I should hear something within the week. Until then, it was rotating shifts between me and the vets to ensure someone was always with Ron. The medication he was on seemed to help. He didn’t space out as much, and he was able to answer basic questions. But because the medication was working, he was also getting more irritable with people constantly being in his house. The man was like me in the sense he liked his alone time.

It was hard to be near him. Jack and Fanny chasing each other and me constantly having to separate them helped distract me from conversation. It wasn’t exactly easy having small talk with a man whose words hurt me as much as his fists.

I was at the distillery now, soaking up the quiet. It had been a slow night, so I sent Meadow home. It was me and Jack, just like old times. Not even a minute after having that thought, the door opened. I was about to say we were closed when I realized it was Franc.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing a glass and placing it on the bar. He’d have a few sips and head home to his girl and his kid. Times sure had changed. Before he’d met Quinn, he’d come in here and get sloshed, unable to handle the stress of balancing a demanding job and being a single dad to a kid who set a record for how many nannies he ran off.

He sat down on a stool and accepted the glass. “So, you slept with Char.”

At this point, everyone knew. There was no denying it or hiding it, not that I wanted to. Chardonnay wasn’t some dirty little secret. She was the woman of my dreams.

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