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“You don’t like to ask for help,” I observe.
His laugh comes out like a bark, but his eyes soften, telling me I’m right. “What makes you say that?”
Shrugging, I walk toward the front door of the farmhouse. He has no choice but to follow me if he wants to hear my response.
“Maybe I recognize a fellow sufferer.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts, a signal to myself to stuff any additional details away. He waits for me to elaborate, but after a moment, he understands I don’t plan on saying more.
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I’m not letting just anyone take care of my daughter.”
“Of course not. I’ll supply background checks. I know CPR and first aid, and I’ve been fingerprinted and cleared by the California Justice Department. Had to do all that to take care of my sister.” His eyebrows pop up as I recite my qualifications.
“You want to be my nanny,” he says, trying the concept on and wriggling as though it’s an itchy coat.
“No. I want to be a sommelier. And I want to work here. So I’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish that, even working in the tasting room. Even working as your nanny. Besides, I like your daughter.” I don’t mean for the last part to come out sounding as though I don’t likehim, but from the way Jackson frowns, I can tell it does.
He comes a few steps closer just as the breeze kicks up, hitting me with a light scent of citrus and pine that isn’t coming from the oak trees. When Jackson crosses his arms, shoving a fist behind one round, hard bicep, I try not to notice, but not noticing Jackson Corbett’s body is like standing in a thunderstorm and trying not to get wet.
“Look, I’ll come back for the interview with your brother later. If he hires me, that’ll get me closer to a sommelier gig. If you hire me too, that will actually cover my rent for the apartment I want. Two jobs without a commute between them. Win, win.”
Only not. Because driving an hour each way to get here and working two jobs will likely lead to my early demise. But, I’ll cross that bridge…
“This makes no sense, Ruby.”
“I know.” I wish I could present a logical argument, but I’m going on instinct here, and something tells me this man needs help more than he’s willing to admit. And my own set of demons makes it impossible to keep from wanting to be that person. It will be my downfall one day, but not today.
“How would that even work?” It’s the crack in his steely armor that I need. Not that I have any idea how to answer his question, but his slight thaw gives me a moment to spitball.
“I guess I’d have two jobs. If your brother agrees to hire me, that is. I’d work in the tasting room in the morning while Fiona’s at school and pick her up in the afternoons and entertain her until you’re done with work. Cook dinner…I make a mean caprese sandwich. Presumably, you’ll finish up earlier if you’re not running around to afterschool activities with Fiona and trying to do your job.”
“Caprese?”
“Tomatoes and mozzarella. My favorite.” He’s squinting at me like I’ve lost my mind, but it makes sense to me.
Jackson shakes his head. “You’ll be exhausted. Fiona is exhausting.”
“She’s seven. That’s her job, to work your very last nerve and look adorable doing it.”
Shaking his head, he exhales a laugh that seems to be all the air he has left. The man is cooked, and it’s barely eight in the morning. I feel bad for him, even if he’s not the best people person in the world. Given what he has resting on his shoulders, it’s no wonder.
“You seem like you know a lot about it.” Jackson rubs the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping a light sheen of sweat that can only be brought on by a kid trying to be mischievous.
“I chased after my younger sister when I was in high school and she was about that age. It’s been a few years, but this isn’t new to me.”
Jackson looks in the direction where Fiona disappeared as though he can see her. And because he knows her better than I do, he can. She creeps from behind one of the potted olive trees that flank the porch and stands to her full height, which barely exceeds the top of the pot.
I chastise myself for not realizing she didn’t go inside after she was told to do so. My little sister wouldn’t have done it either. Maybe I’m a little rusty at this kid business. Not that I’d dare reveal it to Jackson now that he seems to be considering hiring me.
Oh, but he isn’t considering it. Not when he’s shaking his head and biting down on his lower lip so hard I fear it might bleed. “Okay,” he says with a pained look that says he’s between a rock and a hard place. And for the life of me, I can’t understand why I’m dying to be there with him.
Except that I do. I already like Fiona, I need the money, and I want to be involved in the winery. I have career goals and pride.
But I don’t have time to tell Jackson that because he’s already walking back toward the house, calling after him, “If you get the job this afternoon, come see me, and we’ll discuss an arrangement.”
And then I’m standing alone in front of Buttercup Hill Vineyards, wondering what the heck I’ve done.
ChapterSix
Jax
