Page 7 of Geordie

Itossedandturnedall night long, my mind active with troubled thoughts that robbed me of my rest. I've been like this for months, my sleep routinely interrupted by bouts of insomnia.

I’ve considered flying to Edinburgh to spend time recharging in the place I know best, but I wouldn't get the warm family support I need. The most I'd be offered is to take part in a hunting party. I don't fancy traipsing through the wild after animals to perform a manly right just to please Granda; I had enough of that growing up.

I'm at my desk, a cooling cup of coffee sits in front of me. I thought an early start to the day would have me buried in work. Instead, I’m gazing out at the vines from the office window, daydreaming. Thinking of things that should be, but haven’t materialized yet in my life.

I pick up my phone to half-heartedly look through my contacts for a woman to spend time with. Maybe feminine company will get me out of this dark mood. I scroll through the bonnie faces, caught in a moment of happiness or unaware when I snapped their photo. All lovely and fun to be with, but I haven't contacted some of them in months, even years. To show up now in their lives would mean more to them than to me. I can't raise false hopes, even if I need a warm body in my bed.

Layla, the head of HR and the general office manager, bustles through the door as I abandon my cell. Her steel-gray hair is sprayed into submission, and she’s wearing a bright-red sweater that's a wee bit out of character from the grays and blacks she usually wears on her petite frame.

“I had a call from Dalliance about the invoice you gave them yesterday,” she announces.

I pick up my coffee. “Aye, do they want a further discount?”

She sits in front of my desk, gaze full of motherly concern. “Why didn't you tell them who you were? Their office manager, Tina, referred to you as that delivery driver until I let her know who you are.”

I place my coffee back after my lukewarm sip. “Were they suitably impressed?”

“She was in awe when I finished,” a self-satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “I apologized again for your behavior. I think it's all patched up. Apparently, you caused quite a commotion. I'd stay away from that restaurant, at least for the short term. We don’t want to risk another incident with that client.”

I'm staring out the window at nothing, barely giving our client a thought. “Not to worry. That chef clearly hates me. I’ll not aggravate her any further. I've asked Connell to call them and do a follow-up appointment to help them with pairings for their fall menu.”

Layla tilts her head, trying to gain my attention. “You haven't been yourself lately. Are you missing your cousin?”

I appreciate her concern, but this question about Lochlan is not what I need right now.

“The truth is,” she sighs, trying to commiserate with me, “I miss Lochlan's grumpy disposition too,”.

I was raised with Lochlan and his brother, Harris, by our Granda after our parents were killed. It was an all-male household growing up. Since Layla has come on board at MacTavish Cellars, she's been trying to fill that female parent role for Lochlan and me.

“I miss him,” I grudgingly admit. “We've been together for as long as I can remember, and it feels as though a part of me has left.”

She sighs, gripping the armrest to help her stand, then pulls the halves of her sweater together, about to give advice. “You're a good man, Geordie. I have no doubt you'll find the right woman just like Lochlan found his Kenzie.” She winks.

I smile, not really believing it. The romance gods have given me enough fine company, but no one to build a life with. “Layla,” I give her the devil’s grin, easing back into my chair, “I think you're the woman I've been looking for. Why don't you give me a try? I bet we could turn a few heads and make everyone jealous.”

She shakes her head as if the proposal is absurd, but there's a gleam of delight in her eyes at the notion that I'd even ask. “You are a very bad boy for tempting me. Let me know if you need anything.”

I push the coffee away to renew my vigilance of the vines. What I need is a day off and a distraction. Something that will get me out of this mood. I grab my phone and scroll a bit until I find the number. The call is picked up almost immediately.

“Hey, Geordie, it's been a long time. You’re missing some awesome rides, man.”

“It's been a while, I admit.” I’m grinning at William's laid-back attitude, he never seems concerned about life. He’s just the friend I need to get back on track. “I've been busy with the winery. Is your club still riding on Thursdays?”

“There are always more members riding on the weekends, but yeah, there's four of us going out on San Benito trail at ten. Are you in?”

The time on my phone blazes 8:45. I have enough time to change, grab my bike, and drive out there. “I'll meet you in the parking lot.”

The lower end of the San Benito trail is at the south end of the Santa Cruz Mountains. It's a private park run by a corporation and designed only for off-road motorcycle trail riding. There's a portion of the facility with race tracks on the opposite side of the park. Many of the local racers train there to get ready for competitions.

I started riding a few years ago, shortly after meeting William at a party, that my girlfriend, at the time, dragged me to. His enthusiasm about the sport made me curious, so I met him for a ride. I was hooked on the adrenaline rush and decided that day to become a serious rider. I got all the gear; helmet, boots clothes, but most bikes are not designed for a bigger frame like mine, so I had a custom bike built. We’d dirt bike a few times a month meeting at various parks in northern California. I always look forward to our rides, but it’s been less often since I became the manager of MacTavish Cellars.

Riding the San Benito will help me forget for a few hours and I’ll be dead tired when evening comes to care about anything.

William is checking over his bike when I pull into the parking lot. He strides over to my truck, greeting me with an open hand to shake once I climb out of my vehicle.

“Glad you could make it.” Giving me a wide grin, as he follows me around to the rear of my truck.

I slide the track down and lift the bike, feeling the weight of the steel in my hands as I ease it down the narrow metal strip. “I've been wanting to ride for weeks, just haven't had time. Who's riding with us today?”

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